#like I have so much to say. maybe I should just vent at them about how Christianity left me broken and hopeless and [redacting details]. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caramel-ribbons · 11 months

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I just watched Avatar for the first time all the way through, and yeah, it’s great, but the one thing that surprised me was how different Katara was compared to the fandom interpretation I’d seen and internalized before watching.

Like, before you watch Avatar, you’ve seen all these memes about Katara and her mom, and based on those memes, you assume it’s one of those lines you have to get used to hearing at least once every episode. But then you watch the show and realize that she only talks about her mom maybe five or six times per season and you also realize she only brings her up when she’s trying to comfort someone or empathize with them because that’s how she processes her grief and that’s one way she connects with people.

Or you hear the infamous line, “then you didn’t love [our mother] the way I did” and you prepare yourself for one of the worst character assassinations ever only to see the scene after nearly three seasons worth of context and realize she was kinda right. She’s been the mother, the nurturer, the comforter. She’s been patient, gentle, and accommodating where everyone else has gotten to be insensible and reckless and childish, and the one moment where she allows herself to feel her grief, suddenly she’s this evil bitch and not, y’know, a 14 year old girl whose been thrusted into adulthood in a way no other character has. A 14 year old girl who should be allowed immaturity and raw emotion and anger instead of the patience and grace she’s been forced to extend to every character without even the smallest amount of gratitude or even consideration in return.

Or you see all of the clips where Katara puts Aang in the “friendzone” and you expect to have this wishy washy back and forth where Aang is putting his feelings out there only to have Katara neither commit nor express any clear reciprocation or rejection. Then you watch and realize that, as cute as the ship is initially, that there’s never a point where Aang returns any comfort or grace to Katara despite her always doing this for him to the point of coddling. That for as much as Aang says he loves her, he never seems to outgrow his perception of her so he can recognize her as someone who feels grief, anger, and pain as much as she expresses love, kindness, and maturity. And instead of having moments where he learns to see her beyond her strength or compassion, you’re instead given moments where Aang forces his feelings onto her, both romantic and non-romantic, and Katara is expected to just…shoulder those feelings the way she shoulders everyone else’s.

Katara is the most misunderstood character in the show. As much as people recognize the complexities of Zuko, Sokka, and Azula, they struggle to do the same for Katara because they see her struggles as somehow lesser, and therefore, less deserving of sympathy. They can handle her so long as she’s being endlessly patient and loving and kind, but the moment her endless love, patience, and kindness runs out, she’s suddenly this annoying bitch who can’t shut up about her mother or reciprocate Aang’s feelings. But Katara’s trauma does matter as much as anyone else’s. No, she wasn’t banished from her kingdom. No, she didn’t lose her entire community, and no, she isn’t the only one who lost her mother. But the difference between her and everyone else whose experienced loss because of the Fire Nation is that she’s never given time to process her trauma. Aang gets to lean on Katara constantly. Toph gets to express her feelings to Katara, and yeah, Sokka also lost their mother, but unlike Katara, he isn’t put in the position of being a substitute for everyone’s parent. He even admits that he sees his sister as a mother. The only characters who ever comfort Katara or allow her to vent is Zuko and her father and that’s, like, three scenes in a show where the other characters are consistently given opportunities to seek out Katara for unconditional support.

The fandom interpretation of Katara has been so bastardized that even those who haven’t watched the show know her for this fanon version and not for who she is. She’s such an interesting character beyond her fandom limitations, though. She’s brave, hot-headed, and hopeful as well as gentle and caring. She wishes to learn waterbending, not only because she wants to fight in the war, but because she wants to continue her culture’s practices because, and people often forget this, she also lost an entire subculture within her already fractured tribe. And she wants to defeat the Fire Nation both because of her deep love and empathy for other people, but also because she wants to avenge her mother. But because some of the fans have reduced Katara to a bitch who constantly whines about her mother and friendzones Aang, you wouldn’t know any of this, and it sucks because she’s the only character whose been dumbed down to such an extent.

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #katara #you can tell she’s my favorite character #female character #zutara #I’m not anti or pro either #just something I noticed #I’m not against Aang either #just this writing

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fereldenshero · 1 year

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got in another STUPID FIGHT with my mom again this morning and now im gonna have to get home on my own AGAINNNNNN

#this time it was about me asking if the plane had wifi bc i wanted to talk to my friends on the 5 hr flight #and then she started lecturing me abt how im codependent and should be able to go longer than a day without talking to them #like maybe i talk to my friends so much bc they actually respect me. lol #AND THEN SHE JUST TEXTED ME TO SAY SHES NOT GIVING ME ANYMORE RIDES LOL #like did u expect me to be so happy and pleasant abt u getting mad at me for talking to my friends?#like ofc im gonna have a fucking attitude abt getting lectured over smth that DOESNT MATTER #whatever. fuck. i have to go to work #lovely.txt #vent

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

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Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭

Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid

Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺

First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.

Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend) [it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]

The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.

You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.

To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.

"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"

Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.

The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.

Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.

"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.

So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.

"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"

Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.

"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.

The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.

Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.

It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.

So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.

Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.

The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.

Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.

The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.

"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."

"I don't care about money."

Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?

"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.

"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.

But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.

Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.

"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."

The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.

You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.

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priniya · 8 months

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🔮 OPPOSITES ATTRACT

synopsis. a quiet slytherin and a loud gryffindor find themselves on a chilly evening, which results in something unexpected — at least for people around them. the oldest weasley’s daughter finds herself infatuated with nott’s only child and vice versa, even if their worlds seem so different, being apart just doesn’t feel right.

notes. theodore nott x weasley!reader. slightly sunshine x grumpy (pretend you’re a ginger if ur not). part 2 containing the date, thoughts?

theodore nott never thought he would be given a chance to love and be loved, upon all the terrible mistakes he has made. and maybe it seemed silly for a sixteen years old to say, but with an upcoming war, he wasn’t so sure if he could live through it.

theodore nott never thought he would have someone to call his own, someone to help him, when times get tough or someone who would understand him wordlessly. to be fair, theodore nott never thought he deserved anything like that, so the surprise on his face, when he found someone who was involuntarily willing to be his person was enormous.

he was walking around the crowded streets of the city, the dim lighting allowing him to see muggles running around with different expression on every other face he has passed — some of them were happy, cheering the slowly creeping holiday on them, some of them were exhausted and/or angry, probably from trying to find a perfect gift for someone and failing. just watching them gave him some sort of comfort, he had never had to look for gifts too much, his father wasn’t keen on being all festive and christmas was just any other day. the exception itself was looking for presents for his friends, which never had troubled him so much he looked exhausted.

he was in his thoughts, when he felt like he collided with someone. his eyebrows were squinted as he looked down on the red-haired girl, whose face was all red, either from cold or embarrassment. though, there was something so familiar about the girl that made him study her face for a brief second, the tea stain on his unzipped jacket didn’t seem to bother him at all, not as much as the familiarity of the girl.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, sir.” she let out ashamed that she didn’t look where she was going and that she probably ruined someone’s evening with her no sugar, lemon tea. it was then, when the familiar girl finally gave up and looked at the person she rudely bumped into.

“nott?” her words weren’t coated with layers of disgust and regret that out of all the people in london that night, she bumped into theodore nott. her words had surprised and confused undertones, almost as if she didn’t mind seeing him there. now, he obviously recognized his attacker — y/n weasley, a girl he sits behind in history of magic, a twin sister of potter’s best friend, someone who should hate him with burning passion.

“are you alright?” redhead’s question took him off guard.

theo was expecting something else, like a mockery of the fact that he was walking amongst muggles without hexing them all. though to be honest, theodore never hated muggles, well, yeah, he said some stupid shit, when he was younger and he was far from proud, but it was the need to appease his father. he definitely didn’t expect to see the worried manner in her, her brows scrunched as she tried to read his emotions, while standing in front of him in silence.

“theo…?” repeated y/n. he wasn’t alright and he didn’t know if he should show it. for merlin’s sake, he really wanted to get so much things out of his system, but venting to a weasley? he knew better than that — she would probably go around, and spread out the word about everything she heard from him.

nott was about to mumble something in response, when her eyes flickered with concern, demolishing all his justification why shouldn’t he talk to her for longer than needed. she was genuine, not caring that ron and harry weren’t on a good terms with him, she wanted to know, and help if possible.

so, theo simply gave up the act. “uh, no. not really.” he confessed, confirming all the suspicions she got to gather from observing him for a few minutes, when he thought of an answer. her expression changed from concerned to slightly sad, even.

before the boy could realize, he was sat in one of the small coffee shops beside her, a half empty, steamy cup of hot chocolate in his hands as they talked. something was so incredibly off about the way they conversed, first time in a while, he never wanted to conversation to end, just like when he was talking to his friends. his body itched at the thought that soon both of them would have to come to their respective houses and the talk would be just a memory that never happened again.

he had to admit that y/n’s presence was soothing. it was like the smell of a freshly printed new book, a cigarette on a foggy morning, a sensation of someone’s nails gently scratching the inside of his palm. the last one was a habit his mom developed to calm him down before she died, leaving him with an aching need for someone to find out about his perk and do it when he needs.

her muffled laughter filled his ears as he watched the girl cover her lips with a palm, he couldn’t help but smile. the gloomy atmosphere that he brought with his tiny vent was long gone, since she declared it her mission to make him feel better. so, since he wasn’t a big talker himself, she let him listen to all the stories from when she was growing up. even though he never experienced a family like hers, a family that cared for each other, it was comforting.

his eyes darted to the clock hung up on a wall, followed by hers and a long sigh that left his lips. his fingers ran through his curls as he parted his lips to bid goodbyes, though y/n was faster. “we could meet up here some other time, if you want.” she gave him a shy smile, the one he never thought he would see on her face.

y/n weasley wasn’t the shy type of girl, she was a big talker, a smart-ass with witty comebacks and a obnoxiously loud aura coating her small frame, though right now, upon his gaze that wandered around her face for quite some time now, she grew shyer.

“uh.” stuttered theo. “yeah, i guess it’s a good idea.” his reply made her smile go bigger, and in the back of his head, it felt like a reward for the decision he just made, some kind of reassurance that he did something good.

“perfect.” she grinned, taking the two of their cups and taking them to the shop’s kitchen, revealing that either she works there, or she’s just insanely crazy for barging into someone’s workplace as an unwanted stranger. “there’s a fireplace in the back.” weasley added, taking his hand in hers before he could even refuse (he wouldn’t though).

the tips of her long nails gently grazed his palm, when she led him the back, greeting a few of her coworkers. her touch on his skin ached, almost burnt, although if that’s what the insides of a normal, fireplace without floo powder felt like, he could grow to like it, only if a part of her body was pressed against his. few minutes later theo’s hand felt empty as he watched her disappear in green flames, having bid their goodbyes.

***

theo hated that feeling. this warm, strange feeling that coated his heart whenever he thought about the obnoxious gryffindor, who he met at those muggle streets. nevertheless, he found himself unable to think about someone else. he was replying to a letter pansy has sent him, and the only thing he had on his mind was y/n, he wondered if ginny told her about her little getaways with theo’s best friend, if all her brothers got back to their house, and — if she thought about him.

his hands throbbed. his fingers wrapped tightly around the quill, before putting it down on his deck. why on earth would he text her? it was one accidental meeting at some crowded street, one conversation that shouldn’t mean anything to them.

nott squeezed his eyes, the muscles on his face tensed as he focused on the paper in front of him, scribbling down a few words in his neat handwriting. a long sigh has left his lips, his eyes tracing the sentence he wrote for her. shit, why would he even do that? if any of his friends knew, he’d have been doomed — one weasley hanging around their friend group was enough, but he didn’t want to push draco nor blaise’s limits.

on a christmas’ eve, he went out for another walk, slightly hoping in the back of his mind that he’d accidentally bump into her again. this time, theodore would make sure to hear her laugh more often, to see her teeth, when she smiles or to watch as she gets shyer upon his gaze on her face.

his feet got him into a familiar looking café, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion — he couldn’t pinpoint from where he knew the place — and looked around. then, he heard it.

“theo!” a female voice rang in his ears. the boy turned his face, a smile slipping onto his lips as he realized where he was. the god damned café y/n was working at. “what can i get you?” a grin spread across her face, visibly delighted to see him there, almost as if she hoped for it.

her forearms laid on the counter as her body leaned a little closer, her hair pinned up in a ponytail that probably got ruined during her shift from running around the place, having a chat with each customer every now and then, a pinkish tint on her cheeks, maybe from the heat in the back or maybe, because he was there.

it took him a second to realize that he was staring with his mouth slightly parted. “uh—” he stuttered, getting a small, barely audiable giggle in response. “i just came to see you.” he blurted out. thank god his ears were covered by the beanie, because just by saying those six words got him all flustered.

“theo.” his name sounded so well coming from her. theodore wanted to hear it again, again, and again. it was melodic, like most beautiful song he’s ever heared. how could he get so whipped after one hangout?

“i hoped you’d come by.” she confessed shyly. “i have something for you in the back, could you give me five minutes? i gotta tell the manager i’m taking a break.” she beamed at him sweetly, rushing off to the back, taking off the green apron that hung on her waist in the meantime.

when she came back, she was still wearing the café’s shirt with a small, green logo, black jeans, and was carefully walking towards his table with a neatly wrapped package and on a top of that a plate with a big piece of some sort of chocolate cake, two drinks (the same as last time), and a cookie. her hair wasn’t in a ponytail anymore, ginger strands falling into her shoulders as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

“you– you got me something?” a question left theo’s mouth, leaving him all surprised — the strange feeling warming him up from the inside. he took a big sip of the hot chocolate in front of him, hardly minding that he burnt his tongue, he didn’t want to say anything stupid. “y/n, we talked once and you… got me something?” he asked once again, not believing his own eyes.

the girl just smiled wider, passing the box towards him. “uh. yeah.” she answered, shrugging. “last time, you said that you never really celebrated christmas the right way, so… please open it.” she tried explaing herself, but gave up at the end, pushing the box further with her fingertips. “please?”

shit.

if she didn’t ask, if she didn’t give him those eyes and that smile. maybe he would be able to refuse, think of some lame excuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings and give her the box back. but y/n was so sweet, and thought of him hard enough to prepare him a gift.

for half a second, theodore could see something flicker in her eyes, when his lean fingers gently pulled the green ribbon, ripping the gift paper afterwards. the gift turned out to be a sweater, a hand-made one that made the feeling come back to him.

the sweater was dark green, in the similar shade of his tie or the snake symbol on his robes, it had a large, dark blue letter T with a silver outline. his eyes scanned the piece of clothing, the corner of his lips going slightly upwards. “you got me your mom’s iconic sweater?” asked theo.

his mind was filled with different thoughts and emotions right now. he could never call y/n weasley a sweet girl, not because it wasn’t true, but because it would be an understatement — she was the sweetest, or at least somewhere in that range. his cheeks almost hurt from smiling at her, and never in his life nott had felt it.

“actually…” her cheeks started getting a little more pinkish than usual. “it’s based on my mom’s sweaters, i did it on my own. it might not be perfect—" y/n started rambling in nervousness, afraid that the boy won’t be happy about getting a meaningless piece of fabric from her.

“y/n, i love it.” theodore’s words were like honey to y/n’s ears, she gave him a small smile, not really expecting him to gently grab her hand out of sudden. the reason behind it? even theo didn’t know (probably to ease her nerves).

when he realized what he did, he wanted to take his hand back and mutter a quiet apology, the crime scene awkward as much as only possible. although, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the pink on her face intensified, few more minutes of skin-to-skin contact, and she would turn into a tomato, so his hand stayed on hers, taking the chance and intertwining their fingers together.

“would you– uh,” the redhead started, stumbling over her own words, easily losing focus, each time his thumb stroked her hand, a tiny smirk hovering over his lips. “like to, uh, come here once in a while, you know… until the break’s over? keep me company, maybe?”

and he did. how couldn’t he? this girl was constantly on his mind ever since she bumped into him on the streets and spent literal hours at the café.

although, beside just keeping her company during the winter break — but also at school. he grew so fond of her (and believe me, it worked both ways) that cutting their fresh friendship short was something he couldn’t let happen. so… even though her younger sister was already swaying her way into theodore’s friend group, y/n seemed like a different topic.

theodore nott liked sharing. as unbelievable as it sounds, he really did. whenever he had something he enjoyed, he was willing to share, he was the type of person to give away his last cigarette to one of his friends, but the thought of sharing y/n weasley never crossed his mind. he wanted her all to himself, so… their hangouts always contained just the two of them.

small study dates in the library, late night walks around the courtyard, meet-ups in the room of requirement, picnics in the astronomy tower, while smoking some pot and cigarettes together.

back then, it felt strictly platonic. even if they called it their little dates, nott had a feeling they weren’t moving past the friendship line, while his emotions towards the girl were getting more and more serious. nevertheless, theodore was confident, but not confident enough to ask her out — to confess his silly crush without the fear creeping up on him that y/n would reject him and turn his dreams into nightmares.

***

the weather outside was getting better with each day until spending time inside the castle was unbearable. it was around the time, theo decided to finally push his luck and ask the girl of his dream out. ever since he woke up, he was nervously fidgeting with everything that got to his hands and when then classes were to start, it only got worse.

“you alright, theo?” a whisper left y/n’s mouth as she stood next to him in potions, her elbow nudging him lightly, trying to catch his attention.

merlin. the way his name sounded so wonderful on her tongue. if it wasn’t for the small attention-grabber, he would definitely accidentally ignore the question to daydream about how sweetly her voice is.

“no, i mean– yes, yes i am.” he stuttered. “i just– can i ask you a question?” she nodded, making his stomach turn around. “would you, uh– like to go out to hogsmeade with me? like on a date?” the question left his lips.

his throat went dry as he waited years for an answer (which was actually just about two seconds, theo’s brain just got really dramatic from stress), legs giving up, so he had to lean his palms on the table.

“f’course.” weasley grinned, not minding the blush that spread all over her face, just from the ask. “i thought you’d never ask, really.” she giggled, turning her eyes away for a second, before flashing him another beam of hers.

nott’s face was now bright pink. “i– what?” he was struggling to form a logical sentence. “you wanted me to–?” the boy was supposed to finish his thought, though it didn’t really sit well with snape who interrupted their little talk, postponing it until the evening.

the two of them were walking somewhere outside, laughing about something so insignificant, when the situation from classes popped into his mind. “so… about that date. you really want to?” asked nott.

he expected any kind of answer — yes, no, maybe, you should guess, nah — whatever was only possible. however, the feeling of her lips on his wouldn’t cross his mind. she kissed him. y/n has kissed him, leaving him breathless, when she pulled away.

“does that answer your question?” redhead chuckled, her fingers still curled up against the collar of his white shirt. he shook his head, still mind-blown. “yes, theodore faustus nott, i was dying to hear you ask me out on a date. whatever we have between us, i wanted it to move forward and go on a date with you.”

she laughed. “you really think i’d spend hours crotcheting a sweater for a guy i met few days earlier if i didn’t feel something? theo, i almost passed out when you touched my hand months ago.” another laugh left her lips that were now so close to his, clouding his mind with one certain thing.

upon hearing all those words, the boy couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pressed his mouth against hers, savouring the moment. cherishing the fact that she wanted him like he wanted her.

“the date is still a thing, yeah?” y/n smiled as her nose brushed his.

“you’re gonna love it.” he answered, grinning.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #pansy parkinson x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #theodore nott fic #theo nott x you #theo nott fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys fic #theo nott rec

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myangelscrimson · 2 years

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I'm realizing how much I hide things just to make other people feel better or safer around me

#chloe shush #I talked to one of my friends because they keep posting...#yandere...? vent...? seeming things in their story #so I decided to ask if something was wrong just in case #and they said they just had a crush on someone but that it wasn't anything obsessive #but that they technically can't have this person because they're toxic #and I told them that if they ever DO need to vent to me about something like that it's fine #and it is #AND THEY DID MENTION HOW SOMETIMES YANDERE STUFF CAN BE TRIGGERING...#and I can't say that it IS triggering to me ...#like #very much so it drives me absolutely insane #it wouldn't if they didn't KEEP reposting it or like...they maybe liked yanderes? it'd almost be better if they explained they just liked #the yandere aesthetic?#I think I need to stop pretending things don't bother me when they do #I absolutely still adore this friend it's mainly just a personal problem #and I think they should be able to post whatever they want #a simple solution would be to just stop watching their story maybe? BUT THEN I GET SAD DOING THAT

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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Can I request Spencer x anxious, overthinker reader ? Maybe, overwhelmed or stressed, like almost burnout, but not quite. Because this semester at uni had just been way too much in every way. Thank you 💕 🌸

Thanks for requeting love, hope you're able to get a break soon!

cw: academic stress, reader has symptoms of anxiety

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

When Spencer gets home in the middle of the night, you don’t hear him over the sound of sizzling and your own racing thoughts.

“Hi,” he announces himself as he comes in, meeting your little jolt with a bemused look. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“Hey, how was your flight?” You whirl from the stove for the half a second it takes to brush a kiss against his cheek before turning back to keep pushing things around the pan. The momentary distraction is worth it for the emergence of Spencer’s smile, soft and fatigued. “Sorry, I was hoping to have this done before you got home.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says automatically. “The flight was good. I’m happy to be back.” He sets his bag down and rounds the kitchen island to lean against the counter beside the stove, peering at your face. “I hope you’re not making dinner just for me.”

“I’m going to have some too,” you reassure him. “I’m starving.”

Spencer’s expression shifts. You get the sense you’ve confirmed something for him. “It’s pretty late. Why haven’t you eaten yet?”

You wish you could say that you’d wanted to wait and eat with your boyfriend, but there’s never any point in lying to Spencer.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it until now,” you say. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I know,” he replies. You know he does. You’d started venting about your workload before he left for the case, and he’d been kind about letting you continue to do so during your nightly calls when he was away. “Still, it’s a lot to be up until…” He glances at the microwave clock, unsure of what time it actually is. You can’t say you know, either. “Nearly three-thirty. How long have you been working for?”

You push the vegetables around in the pan, olive oil spitting and burning the skin of your hand. You feel Spencer’s stare narrow on you. “Since I got home, so seven-ish.”

He frowns. “You’re not feeling tired, are you?”

You’re not, though you don’t ask how he can tell. You look tired, you know. Every time you look in the mirror lately, you think of the word unkempt. Messy hair, dull skin, purplish crescent moons stamped under both eyes. But you don’t feel like you could sleep if you tried. There’s an urgency in your blood that gets you up early every morning and propels you to work through the day, like there’s an engine inside of you that’s decided it doesn’t need gas to run. You’re always moving, humming, thinking, certain without reason that if you stop it’ll all fall apart.

You shake your head, and Spencer frowns towards the pan. “What do you have left to do with this?”

You’re surprised to find, upon looking down, that the vegetables look ready. “Um,” you switch the heat off, “I’m just waiting for the timer to finish on the pasta, and then I’m going to mix them together. It shouldn’t be long.”

“Okay.” He takes the spoon from you, moving you out of the way with a careful hand on your shoulder. “I can handle that. You should go sit down.”

“Spence,” you laugh, “I can do it.”

He doesn’t argue with you, necessarily, just utters a quiet, “It’s okay,” and nudges you in the direction of the couch.

You don’t have it in you to protest much, not when he’s just gotten home, so you do, curling up with your feet underneath you and pulling a blanket from over the side of the armrest. You think Spencer is going to want to talk, but he doesn’t, just stirring the pasta and pulling dishes out of the cabinet. Maybe he’s exhausted, too. It is late, and he’s been working on his case the same way you’ve been chipping away at your schoolwork, for days and days with little reprieve.

You thank him when he passes you a bowl, slurping up the noodles the way your mom would chide you if she were here for and comforted by the fact that Spencer’s doing the same. You’re convinced the pasta somehow tastes better than if you’d finished it yourself, your boyfriend’s poor culinary skills supplemented by the love he puts into taking care of you.

“You know,” he says after a minute, “there’s evidence to suggest that consistent sleep loss can lead to loss of brain cells.”

You suck a noodle into your mouth. “I sleep,” you tell him. “I’m just having a late night.”

Spencer gives you a sorry sort of smile. Like he almost wants to apologize for how smart he is, how it keeps you from getting away with anything. “I’ve only been gone for four days,” he says, “but you were texting me after I went to sleep and before I got up every morning.”

“Only psychopaths look at timestamps,” you joke, looking down into your pasta bowl.

He shrugs, quiet.

“What else can I do?” you ask, and you really are asking. “I have deadlines, Spence. Due dates. I can’t just say fuck it and go to sleep at nine every night like I don’t still have work left to do.”

“Which part is overwhelming you?” he asks curiously.

You huff. Not at him. “All of it? It’s like every one of my professors thinks they’re my only class. There’s a bunch of essays and projects all due this week, and no break from the regular stuff to give me time to get it done.” You blink into your pasta bowl, ashamed at the emotion bullying its way into your voice. Blame it on fatigue, you guess. “Every day when I get home from class, I have this impossible list of things to do, and it’s like, if I don’t finish, what’s going to happen? My grades will tank, and I won’t be able to get any of the good internships, and then I won’t get a job, and—”

“It’s okay.” Spencer’s voice is quiet, and you might keep going if not for the hand he sets on your wrist. His thumb strokes once over the delicate skin just below your palm. “It’s okay, just try to breathe for a second. Calm down.”

You do, only because it’s him. When other people tell you to calm down, it’s a demand, a criticism of your display of feeling. When Spencer does it, it's an assurance. That you can relax, because he’s going to make it all right.

“I failed three classes when I was in college,” he tells you.

You imagine your eyes bulging all the way out of your head on cartoon springs, lolling towards the ground. “What?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I didn’t like them. I never showed up to class, and eventually I just failed. I didn’t really care.” His mouth slants sheepishly. “I probably should have, but I still don’t, actually. You can get a job either way.”

Your laugh is dry. “Spence, I think it’s a little different for genius prodigies.”

“Not really,” he says, thumb still pressing into your wrist, and you finally realize he’s been taking your pulse. It’s strangely touching, the way he cares for you so quietly. “Even if you did fail these classes because of the assignments this week, the odds are actually pretty good that you could get a job. And you won’t fail, because you’ll still finish and the work will be great. I know you.” His long fingers stretch up your forearm, a caress. “I know you get really nervous about these things, but you’ll do better work if you sleep more. You’ll be more efficient.”

“I can’t,” you admit quietly.

A tiny, sympathetic crease appears between Spencer’s brows. “You can,” he promises. “I’ll make you some nighttime tea and we’ll make sure all the curtains are closed. We should turn off your alarms, too.”

You bite your lip. “I have class in the morning.”

“You can miss one. You have to miss a lot for it to really affect your grade, trust me.” He gives the base of your hand a little squeeze. “I’d know.”

Your laugh is half breath, but Spencer smiles anyway. “Okay.” You’re giving in way too easily, but a morning spent in bed with your boyfriend sounds heavenly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says sincerely, releasing your hand to pick up his fork. “We’ll go to bed once we finish this, okay? And I’ll pick up breakfast tacos for breakfast tomorrow. Protein is good for brain function.”

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

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leveling the playing field VIII

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: omg so this is the final part of the first like, section of this story! i probably should have not called them parts bc idk what to do for the second like.. bit. season? maybe?) yeah sure, season two coming soon!! lol

thank you guys so much for being here and reading this and enjoying it as much as i have enjoyed writing it! it truly means so much to me :)

next part

You hear footsteps and turn around in the seat, hoping desperately that it's Coryo, and you are relieved to see that it finally is. He had been gone for close to an hour. You stand quickly, going to meet him halfway, what you had to tell him couldn't wait. "Coryo," You say quickly, before launching into the full story. "Lucy Gray came back, the others were chasing her and she hid in that vent and she's still in there, they're trying to figure out how to get in. She's stuck."

You follow him back to the desk, his eyes wide now too. "That's good... I think that's good." He's scanning the arena again, as if there's any inch of it he hasn't committed to memory, trying to see if there was any way Dr. Gaul's snakes could reach her in the vent you pointed to.

"No, no it's not good because I don't think there's another way out of that one except the way she came in." You dig into your bag as it hangs at his side, pulling out the notebook that you drew the map in. "Yeah, look- it's pinched off about thirty feet in." You point to the page, holding it out for him to see.

"She just has to wait them out." He insists, pushing your hand down. "Put that away- you shouldn't have that."

Why is he so calm about this? Lucy Gray was trapped, and this time there was nothing either of you could do to help her. "Yeah, but that's not going to work for much longer." You say, watching as the three make a plan to push her farther into the vent and try and get her out from the bottom.

Hurriedly, you close your notebook and put it away so you don't have to look away for long.

"Just a little longer, Lucy Gray..." Coryo mutters to himself and grips onto your hand at his side. At this, you reach across your body and rub his arm with your free hand. His whole future could collapse in a matter of moments if Lucy Gray doesn't survive. Yours could too. But as you watch Coral thrust her weapon up into the pipes that you know Lucy Gray is inside, you flinch, not knowing how much longer Lucy Gray can hold out.

You can't even process what is happening to Treech and the outcries of his mentor and people in the theatre, wondering what happened to him as he collapses with a bloody nose. You knew, so you avoided even looking in their direction as Lucy Gray tumbled from the now shredded vent, landing directly on top of Coral before making a run for it. You're sure Coriolanus isn't even breathing.

You aren't either when every one of the tributes freezing and the wind starts whipping Lucy Gray's hair around her face and her dress around her sides. Everyone watches as a large tank is lowered into the arena and dropped delicately on top of the pile of debris in the center.

"What is that?" You wonder out loud, and Coryo just shakes his head as you look up at him.

"C'mon Lucy Gray, get out of there..."

"Wouldn't it be funny if it was candy?" Lucky jokes and you stifle a laugh.

At this moment, the young girl from District Eight wanders out into the clearing, pale and skinny. "Is it over?" She asks no one in particular, making your smile fade.

"Wovey..." Reaper warns her from where he's kneeling next to the bodies he had covered with the flag.

"Can we go home now?" You clutch your hand back to your chest as she walks toward the tank- you don't know what was in the tank, but you know it wouldn't be good.

"Wovey." He warns again, more stern this time with a slight shake of his head.

The tank starts to splinter, cracking steadily along all sides until it bursts open. You gasp at the amount of snakes that come out. A wave of moving, rainbow destruction crashes over the floor and completely engulfs the little girl in a fraction of a second, as everyone else starts to run.

As Lucy Gray and Coral make a break for the walls, trying to get up to the stands, Reaper seems to just accept his fate. You feel... bad. He could have taken your offer made days before, he could be winning right now. At least he and Wovey didn't suffer.

As Lucy Gray pushes herself backward up the pile of rubble away from the fast moving snakes, Coral starts speaking to her. You can't hear what she's saying, but you can see she's crying- maybe pleading for Lucy Gray's help, maybe just saying her goodbyes to this world. It didn't matter, Lucy Gray was the last one alive as Coral's body got surrounded by the snakes.

Please work. Coriolanus begs the universe, hoping that the cloth he had used to wipe her tears and the one she used to wipe away the dirt from her skin before the interview, which he took from your bag and shoved into slots in the tank would be enough to save her.

"She won!" You grin, shaking Coryo's shoulder as he stands beside you, eyes still locked on Lucy Gray.

That's when she starts to sing, just as the snakes catch up to her. Why aren't they letting her out? It was over.

"Why aren't they getting her out?" You ask him, confused as everyone watches intensely, entranced by her voice.

"I'll be along, when I've finished my song..."

Coryo and you both turn, facing the audience now and all eyes immediately lock on Dr. Gaul. "Dr. Gaul, she won." He says, as if somehow she's missed it- surely she had. Surely she's not watching the same thing you are.

"When I've shut down the band, played out my hand..."

"It's over, let her out!" You shout, attempting to draw her attention.

"Paid all my debts..."

"Why aren't they attacking her?" You hear someone ask, noticing the snakes are almost entirely covering Lucy Gray's shirt now.

"Have no regrets, right here..."

"It must be the singing," Coryo replies, and you look up at him. You don't know that that's true, but you won't ask. "It's calming them."

"In the old therebefore..."

"She can't sing forever."

"Then let her out!" You yell, looking pleadingly up at Dr. Gaul in the stands. "Dr. Gaul!" You demand her attention now, stomping your foot down.

Your blood is boiling when she still won't look at you and the sound of Lucy Gray's voice fills the theatre. "Look at me!" You scream, and clearly, people are getting annoyed at you for interrupting Lucy Gray's song. "Look at me now or let her out!"

She does neither, not until Lucy Gray's song moves everyone else to match your cries for her to be released. Only then does Dr. Gaul look at the two of you, and you drop Coryo's hand.

The doctor sighs, leaning over to her assistant. "Get her out. Now." She says, and cheers erupt in the room previously filled with emotional tears.

"I did it." Coryo says, and you have to lean close to hear it over everyone's delight.

"You did it!" You laugh, throwing your arms over his shoulders. You scream in excitement as he hugs you back, lifting you up and spinning you around as people crowd the two of you. You don't think you've ever been happier.

As he lets you down gently, grabbing your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your forehead, you wonder if your parents are watching. You can't wait to get home, to see your family and let them sing your praises for Coriolanus's success in the games. Well, Lucy Gray's success that the two of you get to reap the rewards of.

Then, he's gone, leaving you to gather your things while he goes to see Tigris. You smile, sighing to yourself as you watch. It's likely your father has already sent the car to collect you, so you should probably get going. You're in dire need of a celebratory bath, anyway.

Last night, you had the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. A full eight hours- a privilege you didn't know you missed so bad. Even when you had to get up for school around six, you felt so well rested you knew you could take on the world.

That was until you walked downstairs for breakfast. "Good morning." You grin, skipping down the last couple of steps only to be met with your father hanging up the phone, storming over to you, and shoving you back onto the staircase.

"Sit down. Listen to me." He spits as you groan, holding your head from where it hit the railing and adjusting yourself so you are sitting properly on the stairs.

"Ow... What did I do?"

"You know what you did, Y/N." He hisses, pacing in front of you. "Un-fucking-believable! They went out on a limb for you, and this is how you repay them? Do you even realize what you have done? To me? To this family?"

The poison.

"Dad, I didn't do anything! I had no say in it! Coryo gave her the compact empty- it wasn't our business what she did with it!" You argue, standing up only to earn yourself a slap across the face.

"You were to give her nothing. You knew that." You hold your cheek while he lectures you, and you just nod.

"Yes, sir." You sniff, rubbing your jaw to soothe the sting of your already burning skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me- you will apologize to Dean Highbottom first thing this morning and hope he's smart enough to forgive you. Now, go."

You pull your bag back over your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with your little brother and your mother sat at the table as you walked out the door. It looks like you're walking today.

You make it to your first class, obviously not feeling too excited about the concept of speaking with the Dean. Coryo walks in just a few moments after you, stealing the seat at your side. You can't even look at him.

"Good morning." He whispers, pulling his textbook out of his bag. He's in good spirits it seems, but you know that won't last long. "You left in a hurry after the games yesterday, I was hoping we would celebrate together."

When you don't respond, he furrows his brow. Were you mad at him? Had he done something? "Wow, you're a ray of sunshine this morning, aren't you?" He asks, disguising his hurt as a joke. His intention was to come back to you after speaking with Tigris, he wanted to see if you would like to go for a walk or something and discuss everything. He didn't really have a plan, but he didn't want you to leave his side, not yet. The games had ended all too quickly, and you had yet to even discuss what had happened with the kiss you shared. He couldn't let you slip back into a routine of only seeing each other in class and during breaks, he couldn't bear the mere idea of it.

You slam your pen down on the desk, turning to look at him now. "We are in such deep, deep shit, Coriolanus." You hiss, taking notice of everyone looking at you so you quiet down.

"Your... your cheek." He just mutters, leaning in to look closely at the other side of your face and the maroon bruise that now adorned it. Even under your makeup he could see it. "What happened?" He reaches out to gently brush his hand over your jaw and you flinch away quickly.

You sigh, looking around quickly before leaning in closer to whisper to him. "They know, about the poison. We're done for, enjoy your final moments of freedom." You move away quickly as your professor starts speaking and the world begins to crash down around your best friend.

He sits back, face pale as his stomach turns. How could they know? They must have found the compact on Lucy Gray- it must not have been empty. Or was it the cloths in the tank? Those would be easier to find, probably, but how could they be traced back to you?

"We need to borrow Miss Y/L/N and Mister Snow, please." A peacekeeper says as he knocks on the open door frame, eyes quickly finding the two of you.

"It was nice knowing you." You sigh, quickly gathering your things and making your way down to the door.

He follows quickly behind, and for once, your classmates are silent.

A group of three peacekeepers lead you down a quiet hallway of the school, and stop at an open door gesturing for the two of you to enter.

"Ladies first," Coriolanus says softly, stepping aside for you to enter.

"Oh, so now I'm a lady." You scoff quietly, walking into the large open room, the high biology room, with nothing but a table in the center. The table is adorned only with the compact he had given to Lucy Gray, and two handkerchiefs. One of his, and one of yours. How did they get that?

"Kids." Dean Highbottom greets the two of you as the door slams shut behind you.

You open your mouth to speak, taking a breath and he stops you before you get the chance. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Y/N, but I don't want to hear it."

"No, I think you do." You protest, "Because my-"

"Your father?" He cuts you off. "What about him? Because I just got off the phone with him this morning, and judging by the state of your face, I would argue that I am in agreement with him."

You swallow, fighting the urge to look down and avoid his gaze. If you had any chance of walking out of here without being in too much trouble, you had to prove that you were not afraid.

"Don't you think that she's been punished enough?" Coryo argues, looking between the two of you.

"Coriolanus." He ignores his plea, tapping the table next to the compact. "How many times did I see your mother pull this from her handbag to check her face? Your pretty, vapid mother, who'd somehow convinced himself that your father would give her freedom and love. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say."

"She wasn't." Coryo protests, referring to the Dean's insinuations about his mother. You look at him, but he won't meet your gaze.

"Only her youth excused her, and, really, she seemed fated to be a child forever. Just like the opposite of your girl, here." He gestures to you. "Eighteen going on thirty-five, and a hard thirty-five, at that. Your songbird, too."

"She gave you the compact?" Coriolanus asks, the sadness of betrayal evident on his features at the idea of Lucy Gray handing it over.

"Oh, don't blame her. The peacekeepers had to wrestle her to get the thing. Naturally, we do a thorough search of the victors when they leave the arena." Dean Highbottom explains, tilting his head as he looks between the two of you. "So smart of her, to poison the water Dill drank and dust it over Treech the way she did. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was watching you, Miss Y/L/N."

You take a sharp breath, making an effort to straighten your posture.

"She claimed that the poison was her idea, that the compact was nothing but a token." He adds.

"It was." You state, though he is likely speaking to Coriolanus.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you got your story straight." Highbottom nods at you, voice dripping in sarcasm. "But I don't believe you. Even if I did, what am I to make of these?" He taps next to the handkerchiefs now next to it. "One of the lab assistants found these in the snake tank last night. Everyone was baffled at first, checking to see if it was one of their own that they had dropped. Until we noticed the initials. Not yours. Your father's. So delicately stitched into the corner..."

You look at Coryo, who is fighting to keep a straight face through his urge to vomit. "Why haven't you made this public?" He asks.

"I know why." You say, crossing your arms and looking the Dean up and down, who just rolls his eyes.

"I was tempted," He ignores you. "Believe me, I was. But the academy, when expelling students, has a tradition of offering them a lifeline. As an alternative to public disgrace, Coriolanus, you may join the peacekeepers by the end of the day."

Coryo's heart drops, as does yours. "The other one, it's hers." He points suddenly to the other cloth, next to his father's. Your jaw drops. How dare he throw you under the bus like that?

"I was getting to that." The Dean sighs as you shoot glares into the side of Coriolanus's head.

"I didn't do that! He took my bag, he took it and put it in the tank- I didn't know anything!" You argue, and he once again raises a hand at you to shut you up.

"Coriolanus, you better hurry. The office closes in twenty minutes, if you run you can make it in time." Highbottom says to your classmate, who just nods and turns for the door. "Oh, and what's that?" He asks, looking up at the skylight. "It's the sound of Snow, falling."

Coriolanus glares at him, pacing quickly out of the door and slamming it behind himself.

You're in shock still over why he would do that to you, but you don't have the time to process it before the Dean is scolding you. "Now, what will happen to you, huh?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. "Be honest, did you know?"

"No, sir." You reply, giving a firm shake of your head.

"That's a shame. He really threw you under, huh?" He laughs, mocking you. "After what I saw the other day, I was expecting he would defend you tooth and nail... but no. I mean, he is a Snow, after all."

You don't say a word, just glaring at the man in front of you and waiting for him to tell you your fate.

"Anyway, if it was up to me, you would already be undergoing the necessary procedures to become an Avox. Oh, how I would love to see you without a tongue." He muses, sighing in disappointment. "But I know your father would be embarrassed so I think it best to leave your punishment in his hands, would you agree? Outside, of course, your expulsion."

"You can't expel me!" You shout, fists clenched around the sleeves of your coat.

"Enough of your tantrums, Y/N. You're too old for this. But, alas, you're right. I'm obligated to extend you the olive branch too." He concedes. "You are allowed to graduate under the condition that you work in service for the next ten years. Although keep in mind, your father won't like that."

"Fuck your olive branch! How dare you threaten me like this! I did nothing wrong, we won!" You fire off, practically twitching with anger at this point. "If you won't go public with it, I will! I've got nothing to lose now, the whole country will know what you and my dad are doing! What you're selling! I'll tell everyone! You'll be executed for treason!" You didn't even notice when you started grabbing anything you could reach and launching it in his direction until the peacekeepers were grabbing the back of your arms and dragging you away kicking and screaming. "You'll hang for this!"

You hardly make it to the door before you feel a stab in your neck, and the world fades to black around you.

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