Ppl Rlly Be Complaining About The Decision To Cast Tom Blyth As Coriolanus Snow, Saying That He's "too

once the quell starts, every kiss between katniss and peeta is so soft and natural. a light kiss before parting for the quell (cf, 75). another one as a greeting in the arena (cf, 77).

and, like almost everything katniss and peeta do in the quell arena, it is reminiscent of a married couple. two people who know each other so intimately and deeply that kisses and affection become a part of their routine.

and after the intensity of the beach scene, their relationship takes on a new softness, returning to that married-stage with a new reverence.

and so when katniss takes peeta's face in her hands and kisses him before they split up at the end of the quell, it parallels the kisses that peeta gave to her before the quell began (cf, 105). the ones that acted as a reassurance that they would see each other soon. the ones that promised reunion.

but, of course, the rebellion had other plans. and katniss and peeta never did get a reunion kiss. 

and so, at the beginning of mockingjay, katniss is left sitting on her bed. rocking her body as she rolls the pearl between her lips. still waiting for her reunion kiss. weeks later. trying to sooth herself with the memory of peeta (mj, 32).

and that is what makes it even more tragic when katniss runs to kiss peeta after his arrival in district thirteen. because it seems like she will finally get the reunion that she has been waiting for. the one started with the kiss under the lightning tree that begged to be resolved (mj, 152).

but it didn't resolve. because her peeta doesn't show up. and instead of a soft kiss, she get bruises.

so, she is still left holding onto the pearl, trying to remember the boy with the bread (mj, 168). the one that she feels is so far away from her. the one still in snow's grasp.

and katniss gives up. she wants nothing to do with the stranger that bares her beloved's face. 

but when it truly seems like she might lose her precious boy with the bread forever in the winding capitol tunnels, she leans down and kisses him fully (mj, 267). 

and this kiss is not like everlark's soft, routine kisses. or their empassioned kisses like the beach scene.

instead, the kiss hidden deep in the capitol tunnels is one that solidifies the two lovers together. one that is begging him to stay with her. one that is pleading for him to not let snow take him away for good.

it is a kiss meant to remind peeta of who he is. and who katniss is. and who they are. a kiss that is meant to say everything that they don't have time for. 

a kiss that signals an ultimate, long-awaited reunion.

Darker times will come and go

Times you need to see her smile

And mothers' hearts are warm and mild

I would rather feel this world through the skin of a child

—AURORA; Through the Eyes of a Child

[ Mockingjay, ch. 25, pg. 351 ]

"Peeta's still in the burn unit. He made it to the City Circle after all."

ONE line. This one line has me clawing at the walls because Peeta managed to follow her all the way. He was with her the whole time, to the point that he was just as injured in the bombs' blast as she was.

I know Katniss is an unreliable narrator BUT I NEED a little more appreciation for our love-drunk-even-when-hijacked idiot Mellark.

It's the smallest thing maybe but it's funny to me Sunrise on the Reaping has given me another reason to dislike Gale.

Thinking of Madge on reaping day, wearing her nice dress and Gale giving her shit for it. Like she has a choice. Like she has say. Like it's her fault who she was born to. It's such an interesting example of class vs culture wars. This idea that the people up the road who have a nice house are the enemy and not the faceless people thousands of miles away who profit on their poverty.

Thinking of Maysilee who was very conscious of the way she dressed. Who liked looking nice and dressing up. Who is Madge's aunt that she never met. Who Madge heard stories of growing up about her moms twin sister who always loved fashion and knew the importance of masking and the power of how you present to people. Don't let them treat us like animals.

And when Madge lifts her head and says "I want to look my best if I go to the Capitol" and Gale has the audacity to scoff at her.

It also speaks to how quickly history is lost. He probably doesn't even know her aunt died in the games. Doesn't care. You never ever ever know what hurt people are carrying. What their history is. What their familial struggle has been. Don't punch down. Don't punch sideways. Don't even punch up. Break the chain and destroy the person holding the reins.

it's so heartwarming to read fics where Ekko is all patient, level-headed, and painfully tender with Jinx.

makes me question whether I have finally turned cold, pessimistic, and heartless when I smile reading them, smile through the tears and think of how much work it would take for them both to allow themselves being soft again.

Jinx, who believes that she is a bad omen, killing and bringing misfortune to everyone she cares about and who cared about her.

and Ekko, the leader, the inspiration, the boy who became a savior before he became himself - always managing, strategizing, settling conflicts, always putting others first... because what good could ever come his way, he is a lost cause, he is damaged, he lost everyone and all that he's good for is to build and care for others so that they would never experience this - or, at least, experience it later.

for him, the world, Zaun, his people might have a chance, but Ekko... he turned himself into a tool and almost lost hope for his life, for dreaming, feeling, being soft, reckless how a teenager and a young adult are, and not as a rebel leader who sticks his hand into every trap for it not to harm his people.

how cautious it must have made him.

friendly and social, and ever cocky and confident on the outside, but closed off on the inside.

how much effort it must have taken him to really coexist with Jinx in the same space, caring for her - and for himself for the first time in years.

trying to believe and accept that this time she'd stay, that they can have good things together...

for all of that to blow up in his face.

all.

over.

again.

can we talk about peeta - the one that fandom & probably most other characters within the universe itself misguidedly believe is weaker than katniss and a pacifist that refuses to kill - murdered brutus, the largest and most athletic/muscular tribute in the arena, a man both three times peeta's size and twice his age, with probably decades of physical training and bloodlust under his belt... and he did it because the love of his life was in danger??

TV!Panjava: Friends to Lovers. Pure af.

Book!Panjava: Girl falls first, Boy falls Harder. Surprisingly electric to the point many readers came out claiming they had sex so much that Philip Pullman had to explicitly write in tbod2 that they hadn't.

The Good Place Appreciation Week Day 6: Favorite Lesson/s

Some time after

She remembered that excruciating feeling, that devastating day in the mulefa world when Xaphania told them about their fate.

It felt as if the universe collapsed around and into her, merciless and suffocating.

They were to live their whole lives without each other, long and supposed-to-be-meaningful lives without the only person in the universe who could understand them fully.

It felt like being gutted.

Lyra smiled distractedly, caressing the old bench she lounged on.

When she was fourteen, she didn't understand that the universe had robbed Will and her of much more than loving each other openly, or kisses, or romance.

She didn't know then that loving an idea of a person was quite easy.

She couldn't imagine that she would mourn extremely mundane things.

Something everyone else got to experience every day with their loved ones.

Lyra longed to know if Will snored. Or, if he did, whether she would complain about it to him every morning. She wanted to burn his coffee at least once, to do renovations and bicker about wallpaper colours. She wanted to buy things together, read together, steal food from his plate and sip from his cup. To fight about... about something, anything, and then make up, and kiss his brow. To not be forced to replay his every touch from memory, because there wouldn't be need for that. Lyra wanted to whisper Will's name to wake him up, to warm up her feet against his scorching skin. To never let him work, to parade him around and sneak away to dark hallways to kiss, giggling.

She longed to have a life with him. Just this domestic life, so sweet your teeth start rotting at a mere thought of it.

But no, of course not.

They would never have that with each other. The fate made sure of that.

Lyra gripped the edge of the bench tighter and felt, with a grim satisfaction, a splinter lodging itself deep in her palm.

Her eyes burned. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, and exhaled shakily.

Envy, anger and pain were swirling in her chest like poisoned water.

Why her? Why Will?

They gave everything, why did they have to give up each other?

That Midsummer Day the loss of him hurt different.

Perhaps, the deepest.

Because she didn't lose his love. Lyra knew she couldn't possibly lose it.

She lost all the ordinary days she could have spent by his side.

Somehow it was even worse.

“Being cheerful starts now, Will thought as hard as he could, but it was like trying to hold a fighting wolf still in his arms when it wanted to claw at his face and tear out his throat; nevertheless, he did it, and he thought no one could see the effort it cost him.”