#( thread: clio )

[blumhouses]

"She has her reasons, something happened to her so she's very um, vocal about getting marked," Clio said, but leaving it at that. Her mom never liked talking bout the permanent mark she had on her because of someone and she wasn't even sure how to explain it to Shawn if they asked in the first place. "Yup, I'm ready. If I like it, I might get another one from you, or leave a really nice tip."

Shawn nodded their head a little bit. "That makes sense. Some parents can be like that." Their parents weren't exactly happy about their tattoos or the fact that they owned a tattoo shop. "Okay, that is good to know. It was just an offer. If you are ready to get started so am I."

[ryuzakemo128]

When In Rome

Pairing: General Marcus Acasius x Albino! Female Reader

Content Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Female reader is albino with crimson red eyes, Mild Violence, Some Language, might be somewhat historically inaccurate. Reader has a fear of change.

Word Count: 1653

Summary: Then. Then you got a letter from the man himself. Things weren’t nearly as easily denied or forgotten anymore.

At first you were certain your parents were joking or at least trying to. You didn’t think they were remotely serious about this kind of thing. You were sure you would live in the countryside for the rest of your life. You weren’t scared of dying out there and it was comforting to know that you died somewhere you preferred to be.

Then. Then you got a letter from the man himself. Things weren’t nearly as easily denied or forgotten anymore. He was certainly straightforward in his self-introduction. But you are sure most men in this day and age are somewhat self-assured.

It felt foreign to feel this afraid. This kind of fear. You felt rather small hunted by wolves from all angles of your life. You were certain of things before. Now? Not so much.

You wrote him a letter to dissuade him from the temptation of perusing the arranged marriage between you both. Determined to keep your life as solitary as you possibly could. You had your loom, your three felines, your fruit trees, and your flower garden. Content with the simplicity of the countryside and the long quiet.

You didn’t understand how people could be so confused as to why you chose the countryside, far away from the large cities of the Roman Empire. The only time you ever went into the larger cities is to get things like more thread for your loom, perhaps a new pot or two, and supplies for your garden. The quietness of the countryside is your sanctum, a place where you can truly think and live. The only sounds that break the silence are the chirping of the birds, the rustling of the leaves, and the occasional meow from your three cats.

You’ve named them after the Muses from Roman mythology—Calliope, Clio, and Euterpe. They are your companions in solitude, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

You were attending a ‘feast’ or something rather important with your parents. Who decided years ago that living in the city was far more beneficial for them. You weren’t ever keen on that particular decision of theirs. But you never commented on it, either. Lest you hear insistent nagging on how they viewed the countryside as some kind of sign of stagnation.

As you were bathing, you wondered if it would be enough to wear something to make sure you remained inside the depths of the shadows. You weren’t sure how your mother might see that, either. As you were too tired to deal with her complaints about how you loved to dress. You still don’t see her love for the colour of Emerald green. No matter how many times she tells you.

“It’ll grow on you, I’m sure of it.” She would tell you, and all you would give her in response is a look of ‘I don’t think we like the same things, mother’.

“Are you sure I can’t just wear blue like I normally would?” you asked, inquiring as to why she had chosen green when it never seemed to suit you. At least, you never thought it did. “I’m sure Midnight blue would better? I wouldn’t know.”

You didn’t discuss it further and scurried off to continue her bathing alone. You didn't read into the meanings of colour, and you didn't think much of it either. Likewise, you had an approach, 'live and let live'. If you died tomorrow, you would die tomorrow. This mindset often clashed with your mother's.

As you were in your bedchambers, brushing your hair with a simplistic ivory and bone comb. It was enough to keep your hair neat, tidy and only somewhat presentable. As you placed the white power on your skin to even out your complexion using the white chalk and rice you crushed days ago. As you were putting kohl eyeliner around your eyes along her lash line. The dark pigment made her crimson coloured stand out further.

Your mother walked into your chambers as you were wondering what else to put onto your face. Your tortoise shell feline relaxing on your bed. The Deep blue linen stola you have chosen to wear, made from the woollen linen fabric you have personally woven with your loom in the countryside.

You were still uncertain if you needed to take your crimson red hood to block out the sunlight. Though, you hope you would not be in direct sunlight. You didn’t hear your mother walk in while you were also thinking about how to do your hair too.

Your other two cats were North African Wildcats brought into your home. You didn’t mind the fact they followed you, and the fact your mother didn’t know what to make of them, which still continues to amuse you.

You were braiding your using leather cord to then adorn with delicate sapphires at the base of the braid. The crimson earrings you have selected to wear dangling slightly as you worked. You were about to leave when your mother spoke up, her voice echoing off the marble walls of the chamber.

You smelt her floral perfume long before you heard her voice, overpowering your subtle lavender and lilies.

“You do know that he's a general, don't you?” Your mother's voice was a gentle scold, but you knew she was just as nervous as you. “The least you could do is put some effort into your appearance.”

You pointed to the sapphires you were adding to your braid. “I haven't added colour to the cheeks yet.” you remarked, looking up at her.

Your mother saw you have chosen for a soft tone of pink to give life to your cheeks. But you were stumped on what to put on your lips. You have already added crimson Scarlett to your eyelids.

Your mother looked at the pink you have picked for your cheeks. “Does it clash as much I think it does?” you asked. “I already placed red on the eyelids and the lips.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she took a step closer to inspect your handiwork. After a moment of scrutinising, she nodded. “No, it does not. But perhaps, a touch of coral on the lips might do?” she suggested.

You added touches of coral to your lips. The mix of red and coral made a combination of a sunset kissed by a rose. You weren’t sure if it was suitable for the occasion, but it felt natural to you. The reflection in the mirror showed a stark contrast between your stark white skin, crimson eyes, and the soft pink and coral accents.

When the feast began in full swing, you were more or less concentrated on eating things you normally didn’t have in the countryside. The aromas of roasting meats and spiced wines wafted through the grand hall, a stark contrast to the smell of freshly turned earth and blooming flowers you were accustomed to. You were eating when he found you, for the most part you were going towards roasted meats you don't have too often like pheasant, boar, and venison.

You were deeply engrossed in the roasted meat, much to his amusement. His deep, authoritative voice was the first indication that he had arrived. “Your appetite does you credit, my lady,” he said, his words dripping with a hint of humour that made you feel at ease.

“I am drawn to food more than the people. Especially cheese.” you stated honestly. “As for the engagement if there is one, that letter is a simple message of clarity of my intent. I do not wish to insult you or your character. But I do wish to implore you to think about whether you think it is a viable route to pursue.”

General Marcus Acasius leaned against the marble column, his muscular arms folded across his broad chest, the fabric of his red paludamentum—his military cloak—rustling softly with his movement. His piercing blue eyes studied you, and for a moment, you felt like a doe caught in the gaze of a cunning wolf.

“Your honesty is refreshing,” he replied, his voice filled with an unexpected warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. “But it does not change the fact that the Emperor himself has arranged this union. It is not merely a matter of our own desires.”

You paused your eating, frowning deeply, your mother nor your father hadn't told you this part, “Odd, my parents did not.... include that part.” you remarked. “I am afraid you have captured my curiosity. I do wonder what he hopes to gain from it. The countryside isn't exactly lively with activity.”

The general's gaze softened a bit, his lips curling upwards into a slight smirk. “I suspect the emperor sees potential in an alliance with your family, and perhaps, in the quiet strength that you possess.” He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “But that is not for us to question, is it?”

“Not in polite company, as my mother would love to put it.” you remarked. “Though she will take the apples I send her.”

You still don’t know what to make of this General by the end of the feast. Even as he spoke to your father towards the end. You were cleaning off the makeup and changing into something far more comfortable for bed. You would be scouring the marketplace for more woollen thread to weave on your loom, baskets for your fruits and vegetables, and perhaps a few more seeds for your garden.

As you fell asleep surrounded by your three felines. You were certain whatever came next would shake the foundation of understanding you hope to cling onto. But somehow, you don’t feel nearly as frightened of change as you used to be. As if your mindset prepared you for this all along.

At first you were certain your parents were joking or at least trying to.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics + @cafekitsune

Masterlist

[gingermintpepper]

Day 1: Apollo

Interpretation notes and trivia under the cut!

His interpretation for my work is based very much around the concept of his manifestation as the Radiant God of the String. Because of this, quite like Hecate, he’s triple-fold and occupies three major spaces; the string of Fate and therefore prophecy, the bowstring and therefore distance and destruction and the lyrestring and therefore music and order. He’s a somewhat melancholy figure all things considered - Fate and following Fate’s tennants is something that he struggled a lot with as a child and even now as a more mature deity, the only solution he’s truly found is to take things one day at a time. Very diligent and fastidious, he’s a hard worker and tends to put his everything into completing any task set before him which also tends to work to his disadvantage since he’s prone to becoming tunnel-visioned until he’s finished what he said he would finish. His family orchestrated his winter breaks because he had the nasty habit of working himself sick when he was still very young.

Apollo is generally represented by circles in my work - priests of Apollo will be marked with at least three circles on their face and usually wear triangular jewellry (typically earrings or necklace charms) to reflect the triple-nature of their god. His favoured colour is a rich, deep blue and while he typically wears elaborate eye paint, he rarely uses face powders. Wears gem-toned blues for his lips unless in mourning where he will leave himself unadorned and unpainted out of respect.

Some quick trivia: 

Was born identical to Artemis even though they were born (years) apart. Had brown hair, wolf’s ears and fangs and horns when he was a child but never manifested those features again after his penance for slaying Python. If he’s very stressed or angry, sometimes his fangs will show. The brown of his hair grew out to blond naturally as he developed and matured as a god.

Proficient in all instruments but has always especially preferred stringed instruments. Truly unmatched with a kithara but only uses it for special occasions and official meetings. Generally prefers his lyre for every day usage

Really good at sewing and braiding strings together due to the exercises he had to do while under the tutelage of the Moirai sisters. Can’t weave since Athena banned him from touching a loom but he does like watching her spin. The one time she caught him trying to replicate her patterns with a needle and thread, she complained to Zeus that he had broken his oath. He teases her about that even now.

Was the last of the Twelve to learn how to read and write because he hates letter systems and finds it too arbitrary. Prior to the collaboration that resulted in written letter systems, everyone was perfectly fine with remembering the important stuff and encoding the rest in artistic format such as tapestries, pottery, furniture and jewellry. Apollo himself has a truly formidable memory since he’s been composing and immortalising the events and histories of the world in song since he was very young. He finds written books very dull but Clio’s very insistent about written histories being important and convenient so reluctantly, he’s given permission for his songs and poems to be -gags- transcribed and written down.

Is only called Apollo by his parents, Artemis and Dionysus. Hermes rarely calls him by name in general and the others, including other siblings like Ares and Athena, have always called him Phoebus. Interestingly, Zeus usually calls him Phoebus but will call him Apollo when they are alone or when he’s being especially serious. Apollo is completely comfortable with either name but he does see Phoebus as a bit more formal than Apollo. (Despite his best efforts, both Calliope and Clio also still stubbornly call him Phoebus though he’s fairly sure it’s mostly because they know it bothers him.)

[tookishcombeferre]

So, I know I made a really long and super rambly post about the episode the "Sorcerer's Secret." But, I am not done because I want to bring together the threads of a few posts I've made before.

One of the things, I find, as someone steeped in the show almost daily with my kid like a really, really strong tea, is that the characters in the show are very human. Despite living in a high fantasy setting, the emotions they have are very real.

This is true of like ... ALL the characters. They're all incredibly real people. And, I LOVE THAT! It's so lovely. It feels super old school 90s cartoon-like because of that. There really aren't any totally flat major characters. Which, is something I only ever really see in Bluey and Sesame Street as far as more "modern" programming goes. (And, let's face it, Sesame Street is just a super old school thing that has kept running into the modern era.)

That out of the way, I think it's super important to recognize a few things.

Human brains are not meant to operate in isolation. And, specifically, what I love about Season 2 is *a lot* of characters who were previously isolated coming out of isolation to find acceptance and start to trust more deeply. We see this in Vivian in the "Sorcerer's Secret" episode as she learns to trust her ability. We see Cedric actually *enjoying* things - genuinely - for once! We see Baileywick opening up about things that are personal to him beyond just his work. Trust is being built between Sofia and her friends/ mentors, and she's the bridge between them and he friends.

However, one of the things I really like, specifically with Cedric's arc, is that it ebbs and flows. He is, at times, self-interested. But, over time, as trust is built, that starts to dissipate more and more. He becomes more genuine. He's freer with his emotions going into Season 3. He's a little less uptight. He's a little less self-centered. He's a little more loving.

I can imagine, based on Cedric's experiences, that trusting anyone would be difficult. It's much easier to create distance when hurt has been felt for a long time. And, yet, time and time again we see him breaking down the barriers of his heart to let people in.

I love "Sidekick Clio" as well. It's a great episode. It sends me into peels of laughter every time I watch it. But, I also think is shows just how much Cedric wants to *be wanted.* And, for a while, the games, the pranks, the joys of creating the effects for the play provide him that. Yet, you can see James light up in that episode as well. There's a connection there. Something is being built there. The walls are slowly coming down.

And, yes, Cedric still struggles with wanting to take over the Kingdom. He does put active roadblocks in the way of the characters in certain episodes as the antagonist right up until his redemption. But, it leads to a really beautiful moment of writing and dilemma. It leads to an important discussion of "Am I good? Am I crazy? Am I bad? Or has life left me some kind of mix of all three that I must sort through, understand, and then decide how to act on?"

Cedric has been led to this juncture by the love he has for his apprentice and this amazing person who has shown him nothing but kindness EVEN when he has been lousy. But, at the end of the day, the question he's faced with is "Am. I. Evil?"

And, the answer is no.

But, in order to get to that oh so satisfying conclusion, we have to build into it. We have to see the trust develop. We have to see the walls of the tower come down brick by brick. And, sometimes that's messy, BUT it doesn't make the things he taught Sofia any less real, or the love he has for her any less valid when he shows it.

It just makes Cedric messy. It shows that trust is a process. It shows that human relationships are complicated. But, the love we feel as people who are healing and learning to build trust is very real. The apologies we make when we're on the other side of our hurt count. And, we can all find paths to forgiveness and atonement through communication and service. (The Valjean metaphor lives on.)

My final thought I want to wrap up with is this.

In putting all the lifting of this relationship on Sofia, we run into three problems.

The first is losing her as child. Part of what helps Cedric is just that Sofia exists. He gets to watch her succeed, have hope, and be a kid. He gets to see her have some of what he, likely, wishes he had but, due to the Incident, didn't get to have.

How much more willing would Cedric be to protect her childhood because he didn't get one? How insensced would he be/ is he over how Sofia has been treated by the Protectors because of this?

(Cedric has absolutely told off the Amulet. 1,000/10 he has yelled at it for making her do too much.)

Cedric understands Sofia. He knows what she could lose, and has lost, because he lost it. I think that's a profound part of his dilemma between his goodness and his villainy.

The second thing is focusing solely on how "Sofia fixes" or "heals" Cedric is that it detracts from the other meaningful moments on Cedric's journey. You mean to tell me that seeing Vivian succeed at disappearing bubbles or helping Clio literally fly weren't also meaningful to him? Or, that his growing relationship with James wouldn't have also reminded him of himself? Or, the depth of a relationship he seems to have with Calista, and that that love wasn't also important to his transformation? Or, even as Cedric himself seems to imply in his speech on DotS, that his desire to HAVE a relationship with his sister and Roland again that doesn't involve being nitpicked wasn't fundamental to his redemption arc?

If Cedric lets evil win? He doesn't have hope of reconnection with the people he wants most to rekindle relationships with or to continue to be in the lives of those he cares about most. He can't be the world's best uncle from exile.

The final thing is that, as I mentioned in a past post, it really detracts from Cedric as accepting the love he is given and working to trust. I think, without recognizing the difficulty of that, we lose a fundamental part of his character and why he's so compelling. He's experienced a lot of hurt and a lot of isolation, and that takes TIME to heal from. Somehow, despite this, he finds good in things and tries to grow it. And, we see that occur more and more instead of less and less as the seasons go on. This culminates beautifully into DotS and "In Cedric We Trust."

Cedric has let himself return to who he was before he was hurt. Because, there is no way the kid who just wanted to calm his sister down and make her look cool was evil in his heart of hearts. So, instead, Cedric has learned to see himself for who he is ... as good. To use a quote that, at least one other person will probably get a little chuckle from, "the evil has been defeated" and, even when it seemed all hope was gone, hope and goodness found a way in anyway.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. If any of this sounds incoherent, I have some kind of mystery virus and am not feeling all that well. So, pardon my crazed ramblings.

[nylaspeaks]

Clio

Clio, keeper of echoes,

Clio, archivist of ache and triumph,

Clio, unearth the truth beneath the dust,

Clio, thread the years into a necklace of knowing,

Clio, let no story rot in silence,

Clio, remember me.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxvi // Suggestions

It's a bit of a grey area, and no harm is intended, but I'm gonna give this chapter a warning for dubious consent. Stay safe lads. Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

It’s never that simple. Renee should’ve known better.

He smokes, he washes down a couple pills, he takes a shower. He tries to sleep, but can’t keep his body still enough. One impulse to the next. He locks the door to his room and jerks off, and it feels decent for a while, but he never manages to finish. That itchiness in his chest, the looming threat of going insane, it’s still there. A dark divide. He feels like shit.

u free Sure. Where do you want to meet? usual 👍10 min

It takes some time for Renee to react to that last message. He just sits there in his desk chair, watching the screen in his hand dim before it eventually turns off. Breathing even, controlled. He can’t tell if his thoughts are racing, or if they’re absent altogether.

He swallows.

He gets up, grabs his rucksack. Wallet, keys, charger. Swings it over his shoulder, unlocks the door. A cold front hits him in the hallway.

Davin has already screwed a plywood panel over the broken window, he’s halfway through stapling a plastic sheet to the frame. He looks up. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Renee bites out, not slowing down.

When Davin calls something after him again, he blocks it out. He doesn’t bother tying his shoes in the entryway, just tucks the laces in with his feet. Halfway out the door, he shrugs on his jacket, hand quick to fish for the carton of cigarettes in his pocket. He lights one on his way to the car. It’s a clear day, but cold enough to bite.

Ignition, music, handbrake. Renee drives the way he usually does when he’s angry, although he’s not entirely sure that’s what he is. Every gear shift is done only when the old motor is incapable of raising the RPM further, when it roars loud enough to sound wrong. He doesn’t bother paying attention to road signs. A couple aggressive overhauls earn him honks from fellow drivers. They, too, get ignored.

He arrives in the lot early. Parks in the booth farthest from the entrance, yanks the handbrake up. He lights another smoke, knowing it won’t make much of a difference so soon after another, but it’s like he’s clawing for release. Nothing works, but he can’t stop clawing.

For two minutes, he stands leaning against the back door of the Clio, heel tapping a rhythm in the ground, eyes scanning the road beyond the hedges. Then his gaze begins to flicker in that aimless way, searching for nothing, finding nothing. On minute three, he slides down to sit on the asphalt, leaning his back against the wheel, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed.

He wonders what the rich nobles in France must’ve felt in those moments when their neck was secured in the wooden stock of the guillotine. To hear the anticipant buzz of the crowd, as always, hungry for blood; to smell the sick stench left behind by whoever came before them. Did they understand all the whys? Did they see the executioner’s hand reach for the lever? Did they hear the blade drop?

Did they tense up like this?

When the other car enters the lot, parking a few booths away from him, and the driver exits, Renee purposefully doesn’t look up. Instead he takes another drag of his cigarette, rubs his buzzed head in some vain attempt to compose himself a little. He can feel the plastic threads on his scalp, interwoven with the healing scabs of a wound he received what feels like forever ago. The bruises on his face are still sore to the touch. The stubble on his chin is long enough to pinch between two fingers.

Lazarus never leaves his appearance up to chance, and that contrast sparks an inevitable sense of shame in Renee. He only looks at the man’s shoes, at first. The stark white, the way they look brand new, even though Renee can swear he’s seen them before.

“Why am I never surprised to see you like this?”

Renee lets out a breath, baring his teeth in something that’s closer to a wince than a grin. He looks away when Lazarus crouches down in front of him, feels a hand gently taking his own and turning it over. Feels the feather-light touch of a thumb running over the bruises on his knuckles.

“This isn’t about dope, is it?”

Renee shakes his head. He flicks the butt of the cigarette with his thumb, watching as the ash drifts to the asphalt. Feels the heat of the ember on his fingers, but it’s good for another few drags. “I know, you told me,” he says hoarsely, “I should’ve given you more of a heads up. I just didn’t really…” He trails off.

Lazarus is still holding his hand. “You want to go somewhere?”

Renee takes a deep breath, lets out a “Yeah” on the exhale. He catches Lazarus’ smirk in his periphery, and finally braves a direct glance.

There’s a calm earnestness in the man’s expression, but it doesn’t entirely mask the crease between his brows. “You have somewhere in mind?”

Renee shrugs a shoulder. “I can pay for a hotel or something. I don’t really care.”

Lazarus nods. Squeezing Renee’s palm, he resolutely gets to his feet, offering his other hand to help drag him up. “C’mon then, big guy.” And he smiles in that warm way he always does, that gracious, slightly mischievous way.

Renee feels nauseous.

He manages to keep his face neutral as Lazarus gently guides him to his car, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the ground before he quietly gets into the passenger seat. His leg begins to bounce before Lazarus has even turned the ignition.

The first few minutes of driving are spent in silence. Renee leans his forehead against the window and follows the line of yellow road marker with his eyes, the illusion of it vibrating in place. He doesn’t know what time it is. Occasionally, as the gear shifts, Lazarus’ knee bumps into his keys, and they jingle slightly. It occurs to Renee, a wholly apathetic realization, that he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. Maybe it’s not so surprising. You don’t feel hunger on cocaine. It just doesn’t cross your mind.

“You know I won’t pry where I shouldn’t,” Lazarus says eventually. “But if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

For once, no answer really comes to mind. Just resignation, and a sense of reluctance.

“Did you relapse, hm? You back on Valium?”

Renee lets out a bitter chuckle, looking down at his hands without moving his head. “I fucking should be, honestly.”

In his periphery, Lazarus winces.

Outside, the landscape slides by, brown on brown. Grain silos, all the pipes and funnels connected to them. The occasional water tower marking a cluster of houses, or a homestead. The only green comes from the odd collection of pines, although Renee knows, they, too, are dying for the season.

“Why do you keep putting up with me?”

Lazarus casts him a quick glance before his attention returns to driving. “Because I like you,” he says.

Renee swallows. “Why?”

He almost thinks Lazarus didn’t hear him over the sound of the engine, the tires on the road, it takes so long for him to answer. But he does, eventually. “You’re simple,” he says.

Renee snorts, which prompts Lazarus to laugh as well.

“Ah, fuck off, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean you’re straightforward. You don’t play games, you speak straight from the liver. It’s refreshing.”

It feels lighter. At least until Lazarus continues.

“You’re resilient as hell,” he says quietly. “You fall, you bounce back up, every time. Every time.”

The small sense of ease dissipates, an almost unnoticeable turn. Renee can feel the crooked smile on his face ebb away.

“I think you get stuck in your own head sometimes, you start acting insane. But you’re a good person, buried under all those defenses. I’ve seen it so many times. You try.”

And there it is. The compartmentalizing. The loops everyone jump through, without ever realizing what they’re doing. People always seem to see what they want to see in him, good or bad.

There’s an unequivocable wrongness in this scenario, isn’t there? Liquid seeping deep into the floorboards, expanding the grain, bending the fibers. Light brown, yellow, red, red, red, purple and white. A pulsing. A noise you can’t ignore, like the roar of strong winds, or the steady rhythm of a drum. How come Lazarus doesn’t hear it? How come he’s so blind? The underside of Renee’s fingernails still have a tint to them. His gaze is slack, meaningless. He doesn’t say anything.

Isn’t it obvious?

I tortured someone. It felt good.

Isn’t it abundantly clear? The gun is still smoking in your hand, the corpse is still warm. He’s still screaming, you can still hear the visceral fear in his voice. You hear him beg for his life, and you still choose to participate. You still choose to hate him. You still bare your teeth at his agony, because it feels so damn good to be in control of something for once in your miserable life.

Deep down, you know exactly how this ends. You’ve known since the beginning.

People like me should not exist.

Renee doesn’t realize the car has stopped until Lazarus pops open his door. Disoriented, his eyes trail over the parking lot, the well-lit concrete walkways, the sad attempts at potted greenery framing each door. The exterior is painted teal blue, but the paint is flaking. Nothing is ever beautiful without a clause. There’s an awkwardness to the way Lazarus coaxes him out of the car, a glitch in an otherwise smooth transition.

He asks for a double bed. That really is the gist of it. The woman at the front desk probably thinks one of them is a prostitute, underneath the silent professional façade, the blind eye she decides to turn. She’s not far off, Renee thinks, but he can’t tell exactly which one of them is selling himself.

Room number 134.

The door closes, and Lazarus throws his backpack on the bed, turns around. Runs his fingers along the side of Renee’s head, just above his ear, where his hair used to be. Trails around. Palm flat against the nape of his neck, the slightest amount of pressure, beckoning him to lean down. Eyes drift closed. It starts out light, the kiss, and then slowly deepens. Walks that fine line between restraint and a lack of it. Renee’s tongue meets another, his hand feels for the gap between Lazarus’ shirt and the beltline of his jeans. It’s instinctual in some ways, vacant in others. You’re just floating through it; you long to see him naked.

“You ever fucked on oxy?” Whispered as a breath against his mouth, sending a shiver down his spine.

Renee feels disconnected from the poignant hunger in his chest, somehow withdrawn from the situation. He lets out a chuckle, and it sounds easy enough. “I have not,” he says.

Lazarus withdraws an inch, just enough to get a proper look at him. He runs a finger slowly down the side of his face, brown eyes trailing the movement before they eventually meet Renee’s. Sincere, intent. “You should,” he says low. “It’s kind of ethereal. Different.”

Renee nods.

Just stands there in front of the door, as Lazarus returns to his backpack, pulling the drawstrings open, burying a hand inside. There’s no tension in his shoulders, no wary glances over his shoulder, no sign of discomfort.

Isn’t it obvious?

“Have you…”

Renee stops himself. Grits his teeth. Shakes his head. Skims through the thin white curtains, out the window. That’s where he directs the question, too. Out into thin air.

“Have you heard of Conrad DeWitt?”

Lazarus just shrugs a shoulder. “All over the news, isn’t it?” he mutters. “Poor fucking guy.” He pulls out a small granite mortar and pestle, as well as couple zip lock bags, filtering through them, then discarding all but one. “He’s from Cleveland, did you know that? It’s like five hours away, I know, but still… shit like that happening in your neighborhood…” A grimace. He drops four pills from the plastic bag into the mortar, sits down on the edge of the bed, and starts carefully hacking away with the pestle. “It’s like that girl they found by route fifty a few years back, do you remember that? Haunted me for a while, too. I drive there all the time.”

Renee can’t take his eyes off of Lazarus’ hands. The shift from crushing to grinding, the even circular movement of the pestle. The sound of stone against stone. “You ever watched a stream?”

Lazarus glances up at him briefly, brow raised. “What, the torture stuff?”

Renee manages to nod.

Lazarus’ chuckle doesn’t entirely mask his discomfort at the thought. “God, no,” he says, focus drifting back to grinding up the pills.

Renee can’t feel anything. Not just emotionally; he can’t feel his body anymore. Can’t feel the temperature of the room, or the weight of his limbs, or his own shallow breaths. He’s faintly aware that he’s swaying.

He perceives, as a separate being. The bowed head, the hair that obscures his eyes from this angle. The way the muscles of his shoulders and arms move. How effortlessly beautiful Lazarus is. The nonchalance with which he holds himself.

“Maybe you should.”

The grinding stops.

Renee isn’t breathing.

His eyes drift up to meet the other’s. Parted lips, furrowed brow. The longer they stare at each other, the deeper the crease in his forehead, and his expression shifts. Confusion, alarm, realization, Renee can’t even tell; his vision is starting to fray at the edges.

“Are you alright? Hey…?”

The moment he finally sucks in a breath, it’s like a cord snaps inside him. There’s a jolt. The air gets caught in his throat. A tightness in his chest, like a bundle of rope wrapped tightly around his ribcage. A piercing sensation, right where his heart is. By some instinct, he clutches his hand under his armpit, thumb digging into the muscle connecting his pecs to his shoulder. Staggers backwards until his back hits the door.

“What’s going on?” Lazarus is quick to get up, to rush over to him. “Hey, easy—”

Another wave of pain, worse than before, shooting out from the center of his chest, up his neck, down his left arm, down his back. He lets out a hoarse sound, his knees give out. Lazarus haphazardly manages to halt his fall by grabbing hold of his jacket. The sensation of being physically crushed in the hand of a giant. “Something’s wrong,” he hisses through gritted teeth. His muscles seize, he hunches forward, gasping for air.

A hand firmly grasping his shoulder. “Talk to me, Renee, what’s happening? Did you take something?”

Lazarus’ touch feels oppressive somehow, it feels horrible. It’s suddenly all Renee can think about. Getting away. He pushes himself off the floor, shrugging off the hand, but he only manages two shaky steps before another wave hits him, and he drops to his knees by the foot of the bed. Grunting, he clutches his chest, folding over until his forehead presses into the dirty carpet. Straightens back up in an attempt to get a deep breath, but it only makes the pain worse, as if there’s a sharp object lodged inside him, piercing through his flesh with the movement. Can it happen this out of the blue? His hands are already starting to tingle. “I think I’m having a heart attack,” he bites out.

“What? What do you mean?” Lazarus is back by his side, but doesn’t try to touch him again. There’s clear worry in his voice. “Are you sure it’s not a panic attack? You’re stressed out—”

“It’s not,” Renee groans. “I can feel it, I can feel—”

He doubles over again, throat closing before he can let out a cry of pain. Too lightheaded to see clearly, he blindly reaches out and manages to catch Lazarus’ sleeve, grasping the fabric tight before Lazarus steadily adjusts his grip, taking his hand in his own. It’s only then that Renee realizes how much he’s shaking.

“Deep breath, okay? Take a deep breath for me.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Look at me. Renee, look at me.”

Renee lets out another involuntary grunt. Looking sideways makes the whole room spin. Lazarus’ form is blurry, washed out.

“Deep breath, all the way down to your stomach.”

“I can’t,” Renee spits out. “I’m not - making this up!”

“I didn’t say you were. Just try. Deep breath.”

Renee winces. Touches his chin to his chest, as he sharply inhales through his nose, quick breaths of preparation. Gritting his teeth, he raises his head and breathes in. Doesn’t get far before that sting returns – a stabbing pain that makes the air hitch in his throat. He shuts his eyes and keeps inhaling, incrementally, through that pain, through how wrong it feels. The moment his lungs are full, he hisses the breath out through his teeth again.

Lazarus gives his hand a squeeze. “That’s it. One more, alright?”

Rubbing the heel of a shaky hard against his sternum, Renee grimaces. “Hurts.”

“I know it does, but you have to breathe through it.”

Renee shakes his head, rocking back and forth slightly. Presses his hand flat against his thigh and tries to lean his weight on it, in an attempt to alleviate the tension in his chest. He’s worked up a sweat, feels the cool wetness at his temple, on his upper lip, under his arms. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright. C’mon, one more.”

He has to force it. Has to grit his teeth and try to manually override the urge to keep gasping, to ignore the feeling that his ribcage is full of broken glass shards.  

“Deep breath,” Lazarus keeps saying, “in and out,” as if Renee’s whole body isn’t trembling with the effort. He lets go of the man’s hand so he can wrap both arms around himself. It keeps him from shaking so damn much, gives him a better feeling of the size of the breaths he’s taking. God, it makes him feel childish, though. He keeps his eyes shut.

“… in and out...”

It takes him a while to realize that the pain in his heart is starting to subside. Slowly, little by little, as the minutes tick on, breathing deeply doesn’t hurt as much. He starts to become aware of other sensations, like the ache in his knees from kneeling for so long, or the heat of still wearing a jacket.

At some point, Lazarus shifts closer to his side. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

Renee opens his eyes, but keeps his gaze fixed on the floor. He’s still breathing too rapidly, more from being winded than anything else. Swallows. Eventually, he nods stiffly.

And Lazarus starts rubbing his back. Up and down over his spine, a steady rhythm, even pressure. Something Renee can now tie his attention to, as the last waves wash over him. Up and down, in and out. He tries to breathe away the tension in his body, focuses on relaxing whenever his muscles start to seize up again. Clenching and unclenching his fists under his arms.

“I didn’t know it felt like this,” he says hoarsely, unevenly. “Like - painful.”

Lazarus lets out a breath through his nose. “You’d be surprised how many people enter the doctor with a heart concern and leave with a stress diagnosis.” He sighs a little, hand drifting to a stop over Renee’s lower back, although his thumb keeps rubbing in circles. “Do you know what triggered it?”

Renee lets out a bitter laugh. Can’t keep his hands from shaking as he uncurls himself to rub his face. Bites out another curse, ducking his head down, running his fingers over his scalp. The steady touch on his back is soothing, in a way that makes him feel more than a little pathetic. “I’m going fucking crazy,” he whispers.

 “You’re just in a rough patch, that’s all.”

Renee shakes his head. This isn’t something you get back from, and he knows it. Things have changed too much, it’s gone too deep. He can’t turn around anymore. Lazarus wouldn’t – shouldn’t – understand that.

The hand on his back goes from rubbing to lightly scratching, from one shoulder blade to the other, over the small bumps of his spine. “Maybe it’s time you ease back on the uppers, hm? Take things slow for a while.”

Renee makes a grimace. “Yeah…” He takes a deep breath, casting a glance at Lazarus. There should be judgement in the man’s expression, but Renee finds none – only openness, patience. A willingness of some kind. He swallows, looks back at his hands. If words even exist that can express how he feels in this moment, he can’t find them. “Sorry for freaking out,” is all he says.

 “Don’t worry about it,” Lazarus says easily. “We all have our moments.”

Nodding a little, Renee breathes deep, letting the air out of his nose. He feels a little unsteady, but other than that, almost completely back to normal, at least physically. What is he even supposed to make of the scene he just caused? It already feels so childish, stupid. Another fuck-up to add to the list, as if he somehow willed the feeling of dying into existence, only to will it right back out again. What was the point?

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each processing his own. It’s filled with a certain remaining tenseness, but also with a calm that wasn’t there before. Renee’s thoughts don’t race as much now, his focus isn’t constantly shifting. His hands stop shaking, eventually.

He's the one who finally clears his throat. “Hey,” he murmurs, tapping the Lazarus’ arm, and looks deep into his eyes with the most sincere expression he can muster. “I have to know… am I still fuckable?”

There’s the slightest flicker of a smile before Lazarus returns his gaze, brows furrowed, mirroring his solemnity. “I’d say you did a pretty good job setting the mood, yeah.”

They just look at each other.

Renee is the first one to crack. He bursts out laughing, Lazarus immediately following, and for a moment, even the heaviness disappears.

It’s just the two of them, in this shitty small town hotel room, somewhere east of Cincinnati, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

That’s all it takes for Renee to let go.

He can close the remaining distance between them, one palm flat against the coarse carpet, the other grazing Lazarus’ cheek. He can feel the sweet wanting in his gut, letting his eyes drift over the delicate features, the lingering half of a smile, the warmth brown of the eyes. He can lean in, open up to the responsiveness of the mouth against his own, and revel in the air their bodies have to share. He can let his hand drift over Lazarus’ chest, his abdomen; he can feel how the man’s breathing picks up in union with his own.

Renee’s tentative restraint is quick to slip into something more ardent, and it feels right, it feels deserved – right until Lazarus puts a hand in the center of his chest, pushing him away.

“You’re fucking rapid firing, Renee,” Lazarus breathes.

“What?”

Lazarus gives him an exasperated look. “Five minutes ago, you were hyperventilating.”

Renee snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m over it. It’s fine.”

That doesn’t seem to reassure him.

“Please,” Renee adds.

Lazarus runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. Lets his arm dump back down as he levels a stern look at Renee, who in turn attempts to look as sane as he possibly can. Eventually, Lazarus lets out another sigh, shaking his head. “One condition,” he says, holding up a finger. “We take it slow.”

Renee nods without further hesitation. “I can do that.”

Lazarus lets out a low chuckle. “We both know you can’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Renee shrugs out of his jacket, grimacing slightly as he frees his bad arm from the sleeve. Tossing it across the room, he lets out a sigh. Pauses. “What about the pills?”

Lazarus looks perplexed for a moment, before his eyes flicker toward the bed. “Ah, yeah…” He gives a half shrug, hooks a finger in the collar of Renee’s t-shirt. “How about we save those for round two, hm?”

Renee grins. “Right-o.” And he lets Lazarus pull him in.

He tries to reel back his enthusiasm, he really does. Tries to go with the mutual swaying. Tries to ease into the depth of their kiss, instead of diving in.

Lazarus’ heat against his own. The soft hands cupping his face, trailing over the back of his neck, clutching a fist in the front of his t-shirt, running over his shoulder, down his arm. Renee, likewise, is exploring.

Lazarus puts his palm flat against the side of Renee’s chest, thumb feeling across the fabric there, until it reaches the slight bump of his nipple piercing.

Renee lets out a small sound against Lazarus’ mouth. He shifts closer. One hand clutching at the back of the man’s neck, he undoes the button of his own jeans with the other.

There’s a sudden shift. He barely has time to recognize what Lazarus is doing before he’s been flipped around, back hitting the floor with a low thud, and Lazarus throws a leg over him to straddle his stomach, prying both of his hands up above his head with a firm grasp that pushes each wrist into the carpet. Renee gasps a little.

A crooked grin. “Yeah, you don’t set the pace, big guy,” Lazarus hums. He cocks his head to the side, leaning down to kiss Renee on the side of his neck, trailing up – and his hips move ever so slightly, crotch warm against Renee’s abdomen, even through layers of clothing. “Relax,” he says in his ear. “You know I’ll make you feel good. Just relax.”

Renee lets out a sigh, flexing his hands as his eyes drift over the ceiling. He’s starting to feel the flush in his cheeks. It’s all he can do not to buck his hips; Lazarus always moves so infuriatingly slowly in the beginning, Renee sometimes has to wonder if he secretly likes seeing him desperate.

His arms are crossed over his head so Lazarus can pin both with his left hand, freeing his right to pull Renee’s t-shirt up, exposing his chest to the cool air. Lazarus pauses then; runs his fingers over the healing bruises on Renee’s side. Always has to see these things through touch, it seems. His expression is hard to read when he meets Renee’s curious gaze. “Easy on the bar fights, too,” he mutters.

Renee chuckles. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

Lazarus presses his finger hard into a bruise. It comes so unexpectedly, Renee yelps, jerking against the unbudging hand on his wrists. Lazarus raises a brow.

Renee winces. “Point taken.”

Their lips meet again. A hand slides up, finds the pierced nipple. At first, it’s a hair fine brush of a finger, circling around the sensitive skin, occasionally colliding with the barbell. Then it’s a soft pinch, two fingers rolling around it, a slight tugging.

Renee feels his body melt into the feeling, and he can’t help but twist his arms slightly under the hand pressing them down. He wants to return the touch, to have some sort of role in this, instead of just lying there, burning over with desire.  

Lazarus breaks off the kiss, resting his forehead against Renee’s. “Relax,” he murmurs.

Lips on his cheek, the stubble on the side of his chin, the soft spot under the hinge of his jaw, where his pulse is fluttering away. The heat and wetness of a tongue on his neck, then on the small part of his clavicle that sticks out under the collar of his shirt. Lazarus shifts down, until he’s sitting atop Renee’s thighs, legs framing his hips. The fingers on Renee’s nipple are replaced with a mouth. The precise movements of a tongue. A careful teasing of teeth.

Renee lets out a moan. The air tickles his skin as Lazarus laughs softly in response. His hand is free to roam down the side of Renee’s body now, and it settles over the side of his pelvis, thumb brushing against the thin flesh over bone.

Just slightly down and to the right…

Lazarus eventually continues steadily moving down, as if to taste every inch of Renee’s skin. The wet trail he leaves feels cold upon its contact with air.

Renee lifts his head to see the man’s progress, the way his dark hair falls over closed eyes, tickling against his abdomen. The way he seems to move with the rise and fall, as if he anticipates the rhythm of Renee’s breathing. His lips and his tongue, working in a manner that’s somehow both perfectly controlled, and hungry in its own right.

Renee licks his lips. “Laz,” he says.

Lazarus looks at him. Something must show in his expression, because he pauses what he’s doing completely, straightens back up. His hand is flat against Renee’s side, thumb tracing small movements across his skin.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Renee whispers.

The calm, sophisticated demeanor doesn’t change, but the corner of his mouth crooks up slightly. “I know,” Lazarus says.

And then, without breaking the eye contact, he lets his nails trace fine lines from Renee’s navel, over the tattoo on his hip, to the hem of his briefs, continuing, pulling the fabric down. Fingers curl around him, the warmth of a palm contrasting the cold rush of air. Calculated pressure; slow, even movement.

Renee shivers, closes his eyes, leans his head back, and breathes.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[monstersmutpeddler]

Books That I Couldn’t Finish 2023

Here are all of the books I tried to read but couldn’t finish in 2023. Some of these books do seem like a lot of fun, I just wasn’t as invested or in the mood for them, so I may revisit them in the future. 

You may enjoy a book I don’t like, so I recommend trying these out if they spark your interest. For example: I’ve read a bunch of Sci-Fi Alien Romance books, so it takes a lot for a new one to catch my attention because so many follow similar plot points. 

More information is available below!

Her Orc King: A Monster Fantasy Romance (Black Bear Clan Book 1)

By: Zoe Ashwood

It seemed like a good time; I just wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll come back to try again?

Headless: An Erotic Short Story

By: Aveda Vice

Could not tell you what the plot was or what happened in this. 

Chamber of Monsters

By: Amber Foy

Got confused/bored. 

Her Soul to Take (Souls Trilogy)

By: Harley Laroux

Not my thing.

Hunted by the Alien Warlord: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance

By: Kyra Snow

Not interested. 

A Monster's Treasure: A Sci Fi Alien Romance (Kadrixan Mates Book 1)

At first, it sounded interesting, but then it kept repeating the same pages over and over again. Then I got bored. 

Blood Moon: A Rivals to Lovers Vampire and Witch Romance By: Jillian Graves

Not interested, but I think others will like it. Especially if you are familiar with the overarching series. 

His Darkest Desire (The Cursed Ones Book 2)

By: Tiffany Roberts

I wanted to like this book, and I did at first, but when our male lead is about to take advantage of the female lead? I couldn’t continue. First book was fun though!

Bonded by Thorns (Beasts of the Briar Book 1)

By: Elizabeth Helen

I keep trying to read books, and I need to sit back and realize it’s really not my thing. Nothing wrong the book, I’m just not into fae stuff. 

Heart of the Fae: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling (The Otherworld Book 1)

By: Emma Hamm

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future?

Cosmic Kiss: An Alien Burlesque Romance (Galactic Gems Series Book 1)

By: Clio Evans

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future? 

Snowed Inn (With a Demon) (Trapped with a Monster)

By: L.E. Eldridge

Nice winter romp, just wasn’t really interested. 

Scheme: An On The Shelf Omegaverse Romance

By: Colette Rhodes

If you like Omegaverse maybe this’ll be fun? I couldn’t get into it. 

The Dalwick Demon

By: Ashley Bennett

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future?

Falling for Mr. Hyde: A Paranormal Academy Headmaster Romance (Finger Licking Monsters)

By: Layla Fae

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future?

Hollow: A Trick And A Treat For All Hallow's Eve Sleepy Hollow Duology

By: C.M. Nascosta

Not as interested. 

Across the Stars: An Alien Dragonrider Romance Trilogy (Cosmic Threads of Fate Book 1)

By: Jade Waltz

Not as interested. 

Bound by the Vori: The Mate Index: Vora

By: S.J. Sanders

Not as interested. 

Soul Eater: M/M Fantasy Romance (Monstrous Book 1)

By: Lily Mayne

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future?

Surrendering to Scylla: A Greek Mythology Monster Romance (Monstrous Waters Book 1)

By: Wren K Morris

Not as interested. 

Watch Your Orbit: An Intersolar Alien Romance (Over the Moon Book 1)

By: Etta Pierce

I really wanted to like this book, but I couldn’t get invested. ;_;

Alien Prince's Mate: A Scifi Alien Romance (Fated Mates of the Seed Book 1)

By: Tammy Walsh

Not interested. 

Phantom: A Dark Retelling (Tattered Curtain Series)

By: Greer Rivers

Sounds like a lot of fun, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. Maybe I’ll check it out in the future?

Within Obsession and Lies (A Court of Gilt and Shadow Book 1)

By: Stacy Jones

Just not into fae, but this series looks like it could be fun if you like dark harem fae books? 

My Jurassic Mate (Jurassic Mates Book 1)

By: Michelle Deimos

Not interested. 

Fallen (Chosen Series Book 5)

By: Stacy Jones

I wanted to like this one, but it felt off and weird. 

Royal Alien Mate (Savage Martians Book 1)

By: Sue Mercury (Author), Sue Lyndon (Author)

Not interested.

[lgcmanager]

MODELING CONTRACTS Q4 2023-Q1 2024

here is the LIST of modeling contracts. make sure to read this post for more information about modeling in general. contracts highlighted in light purple means that renewal is possible. renewals become impossible if writing requirements haven’t been met and when this happens, they are placed in the “past” column, which is highlighted in grey. the other reason for this is if the muse has completed a around a year with the brand, since it allows the muse to have a free modeling contract slot and take on different modeling gigs, if possible. if the contract is highlighted in either yellow or blue, there’s no action for you to take (example; Ivy Club contracts).

you are required to submit to the lgcmanager account the following form to renew a contract. if we don’t hear from you before DECEMBER 9 at 11:59PM EST, we’ll assume that contracts pending renewal are canceled.

SUBMIT muse name: contract(s) renewed:

FIRST RENEWAL OF CFS

once a contract has been renewed, it is so for several months. however the usual requirements must be met if you wish to receive a (better) reward and another renewal the following term. LIST

(if your muse’s name is still highlighted in purple on the modeling contracts tab, that means we’re still awaiting your renewal submission)

Holly’s Coffee: Baek Seona, Seo Minseo

OLENS: Kim Nayoung

( important note: for the ones who have renewed, they will have their contract last from now [ Q4 ] until the end of Q1. ) for the first renewal, the companies have decided to hold in-store events where people can purchase products and receive autographs from the stars. the groups will still be having their own photoshoots and cfs for the upcoming collection, which will be done sometime around DECEMBER. the promotional material will be released around JANUARY and last until the end of MARCH. you have until JANUARY 27, 2024 at 11:59 EST to complete the following requirement:

write a solo of 300+ words or a 4 post thread (8 lines minimum) involving another muse taking part in the same opportunity as yours for +5 MODELING and +11 NOTORIETY. your muse will also be paid 13 MILLION WON and be paid 6.5 MILLION WON due to contract split.

SECOND RENEWAL OF CFS once a contract has been renewed, it is so for several months. however the usual requirements must be met if you wish to receive a (better) reward and another renewal the following term. LIST

(if your muse’s name is still highlighted in purple on the modeling contracts tab, that means we’re still awaiting your renewal submission)

Clio: Baek Seona, Lee Yushin

Goodal: Gong Hyejoo, Su Parker, Watanabe Miyu

Healing Bird ( bodycare ): Choi Kai, Kim Jinyoung, Oh Eunhye

Healing Bird ( haircare ): Han Jisoo, Kwon Sena, Liu Yuxi

Peripera: Moon Hayoung, Park Jaekyung, Son Nabi, Yu Milan

for the second renewal, you will be submitting a completed netizen article to help gain some recognition with the netizens! the groups will still be having their own photoshoots and cfs for the upcoming collection, which will be done sometime around DECEMBER. the promotional material will be released around JANUARY and last until the end of MARCH. for reference, here are the dates that the brands will release their cfs:

Clio: January 16

Goodal: January 17

Healing Bird ( bodycare ): January 12

Healing Bird ( haircare ): January 9

Peripera: January 11

you have until JANUARY 27, 2024 at 11:59 EST to complete the following requirement:

submit a completed netizen article to lgcmedia where netizens talk about your muse’s work promoting the brand, for +5 SKILL POINTS IN MODELING and +13 NOTORIETY. your muse will also be paid 14 MILLION WON and be paid 7 MILLION WON due to contract split.

THIRD RENEWAL OF CFS once a contract has been renewed, it is so for several months. however the usual requirements must be met if you wish to receive a (better) reward and another renewal the following term. LIST

(if your muse’s name is still highlighted in purple on the modeling contracts tab, that means we’re still awaiting your renewal submission)

Ace Beds: Kim Jinseo, Lee Jiho

Baskin Robbins: Yang Aeri

Tonymoly: Lee Hanbyul, Lim Sanghyun, Seo Yura, Yamashita Ichika

all of the brands will be invited to a trade show event where the models of each of the brands will promote the latest products and network with other business professionals. the trade show event will be held a weekend during late JANUARY, but they will be having their photoshoot and cf for the upcoming collection sometime around DECEMBER so that it will be released in JANUARY and last until end of MARCH.

you have until JANUARY 27, 2024 at 11:59 EST to complete the following requirements:

write a solo of 300+ words or a 4 post thread (8 lines minimum) involving another muse taking part in the same opportunity as yours about anything related to the trade show event (ex. promoting the products together, networking with other attendees, etc.) for +5 MODELING and +15 NOTORIETY. your muse will also be paid 15 MILLION WON and be paid 7.5 MILLION WON due to contract split.

use the hashtag lgc:modelingcontract. make sure to submit your points before JANUARY 27, 2024 at 11:59 EST to the lgcpoints blog:

MUSE NAME · MODELING CONTRACT (Q4-Q1) - SOLO/THREAD : +5 MODELING, +7 or 11 or +13 or +15 NOTORIETY [ LINK ]

[fell-court]

(late shadowbringers spoilers ahead)

I remembered a certain detail that means that my idea for Lorenza’s (and/or L’nahri’s) ancient probably wouldn’t work the way I had been envisioning it, which has since resulted in me now feeling unbitten by the ancient bug, so to speak. Maybe my own interest will flare up again when I actually get to story quests that explore them more, but for now it’s moreso a thing I’m fine with hearing others speak about for their own situations, without having much lore for it on my own end or wanting to care as much for it on my own end.

(The fact my brain has decided to associate a certain ancient’s name with one of the things that sets me off the most also REALLY doesn’t help, but that’s my own problem, not anyone else’s.)

I do still think that my other concept of “Clio holds the Azem crystal because it’s more fitting for her to have it than Tsutsuji, but it’s Tsutsuji’s ancient who had held the seat of Azem, and not Clio’s” is fairly neat, because it works as a potential reason for why the two would actually have been interacting with each other the whole time, if nothing else. Something, something, the threads of fate and repetition got tangled for no reason and now the two keep tagging along with each other as a result, I don’t know. I still need to figure out how the two would actually interact in my version of events, but this at least could serve as some sort of underlying reveal of why? I don’t know

[clio-silks-blog]

The Legacy of Kanchipuram Silk Sarees: A Timeless Weave of Tradition and Elegance

Kanchipuram silk sarees hold a prestigious place in Indian heritage, cherished for their richness, cultural value, and artistry. Originating from the historic town of Kanchipuram in Tamil Nadu, these sarees are not just garments—they are timeless treasures passed down through generations.

History and Origins of Kanchipuram Saree Silk

The tradition of weaving Kanchipuram saree silk dates back over 400 years. Known as the Silk City of India, Kanchipuram flourished under the patronage of South Indian dynasties, particularly the Cholas. According to legends, Sage Markanda, considered the master weaver of the gods, brought the craft to this region.

The blend of mythology, devotion, and artistry makes every saree from this region a spiritual and cultural masterpiece.

What Makes Kancheepuram Silk Sarees Unique?

Every Kancheepuram silk saree stands out for its meticulous craftsmanship and distinctive features:

Pure Mulberry Silk: These sarees are woven using the finest quality silk threads known for their durability and natural sheen.

Zari Borders: The use of real gold and silver zari work lends a regal charm.

Contrasting Borders: A unique weaving method called korvai joins contrasting borders and body colors, creating striking combinations.

Traditional Motifs: Peacocks, elephants, temple structures, and floral vines are common patterns inspired by heritage and nature.

For Every Occasion – Pure Kanchipuram Silk Sarees

From grand weddings to cultural festivities, pure Kanchipuram silk sarees are known for their elegance and spiritual value. Many South Indian brides choose these timeless drapes, particularly the richly woven kanchipuram pattu sarees, to mark their special day.

These sarees aren't just fashion—they’re heirlooms passed from mother to daughter, symbolizing blessings and legacy.

Caring for Your Saree

Preserving the beauty of your silk saree requires gentle care:

Dry clean only to maintain the richness of zari and silk.

Refold regularly to avoid permanent creases.

Store in a cotton wrap to keep the fabric breathing and fresh.

Why Choose a Kanchipuram Silk Saree?

Investing in a Kanchipuram silk saree means embracing India's heritage. Each piece is crafted with precision and devotion by skilled artisans. Whether you’re seeking traditional bridal wear or a regal saree for a celebration, Kanchipuram sarees make a lasting impression.

Explore at Clio Silks

At Clio Silks, we offer a curated collection of Kancheepuram silks sarees, sourced directly from weavers. With designs rooted in culture and elevated by artistry, each saree tells a story.

[hyperion-blue-gt]

Read the description on this deviation, No Rude Comments allowed on any of my art this may result a red flag warning, as long you don't get any harmful words like being rude, insult, calling mean names and Disrespectful. Thank you for the Inconvenience and Stay Safe. Hello everyone and happy new year. I present a new art cover for Dream Art Livery Style Disventure to support Odd Nation Cartoons for their show, Disventure Camp after I spent a month for making 17 of my content videos on my YouTube Channel is now available by the latest from December 2023. As I put for a mass post for having screenshots with 17 Disventure Camp Characters in 10 images will have to wait later on when i was at discord to let them know that i leave a message while I'm still busy for doing some development changes on few of my YouTube videos requires content video updates as I run the U.D.R.S Committee for urgent maintenance. Watch the image as I'm bringing 17 Disventure Camp Characters from Season 1 will be on the way by primary.

Here are the List of Disventure Camp Characters I made by myself on Gran Turismo 7: Derek - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Derek (Lamborghini Murcielago) Trevor - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Trevor (Ferrari 458 Italia '09) Jensen - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design Jensen (Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat) Alec - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Alec (Maserati MC20 '20) Ellie - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Ellie (Toyota GR Corolla '22) Fiore - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Fiore (Alfa Romeo 4C '14) Miriam - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Miriam (BMW M3 '89) - YouTube Gabby - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Gabby (Porsche Taycan Turbo S) Jake - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Jake (Honda Civic Type R (FK8) ) Tom - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Tom (Nissan GT-R NISMO (R32) '90) Grett - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Grett (Aston Martin DB11 '16) Dan - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Dan (Mitsubishi Lancer Evo V '98) Ashley - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Ashley (Ford Mustang Boos 429) Lill - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Lill (Mercedes-Benz 190 E Evo.II) Nick - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Nick (Jaguar XJ220 '92) Drew - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp design, Drew (Renault Clio V6 24V '00) Will - Gran Turismo 7: Livery Editor - Creating a Disventure Camp deisgn, Will (Ford F-150 SVT Raptor '11)  Hope You Like it. Follow me on Other Social Media Platforms My Forum on GTPlanet: www.gtplanet.net/forum/threads… Instagram: www.instagram.com/hyperion_blu… Pateron: Hyperion-Blue-GT| Patreon Pixiv: Hyperion-Blue - pixiv Twitter: twitter.com/gt_hyperion Subscribe to my YouTube Channel: Hyperion-Blue-GT - YouTube Gabby and Tom, Disventure Camp © Odd Nation Cartoons GRAN TURISMO (Series), Gran Turismo 7 © Polyphony Digital/Sony Interactive Entertainment

[diamondangelkitten]

Looking forward to introducing my Azem, Hades, and Hyth polycule to y'all!

I will once again be doing this challenge as a writing challenge, but one day I hope to come back and pose some of these out!

Some info about my characters to know before reading:

Emmeline = Alinea's ancient and Azem

Hades = Our beloved Hades, who becomes Emet-Selch

Hyth = Our wonderful Hythlodaeus, who in my au, has the ability to detect the threads tying souls together in addition to his soul sight.

Echo = Aurora's ancient, who works as the Convocation Records Keeper

Eris = Alira's ancient, who is protege to Emmeline's Azem and her best friend

Eleanora = Annabeth's ancient and Hades' older sister

Themis = Emmeline's little sister and the one to become Elidibus

Hades’ parents = Kronos + Rhea

Emmeline’s parents = Maximilian + Clio 

Hythlodaues’ parents = Calliope + Fontus

Hello and welcome to the first run of FFXIV Polyamory Week! This event was created to celebrate all of the non-monogamous relationships in the world of FFXIV between OCs, NPCs, and any configuration of the two. While it's nice to see other ship events be polyamory inclusive, I have yet to see any events that are explicitly for polyamory, so I decided to be the change I want to see.

When: May 19th through May 25th

Prompt List:

Day 1: Sleeping Positions | First Time Sleeping Together

Day 2: Domestic Life | Mundane Tasks

Day 3: Date Night | First Dates

Day 4: Outfit Swaps | Role Changes

Day 5: Alternate Universe | In Another Life

Day 6: Celebrations | Holidays

Day 7: Vacation | Relaxation

Rules and Guidelines:

Tag all characters with their full name, as well as any relevant spoiler tags.

If it's NSFW, mark it as such.

While there can be monogamous partners in a polyamorous configuration, this event is focusing on non-monogamous relationships, so please keep depictions of monogamy to a minimum.

This blog will not promote content featuring pedophilia, sexual assault/abuse, bestiality, extreme gore, or incest.

The tags #ffxivpolyamoryweek2024 and #ffxivpolyamweek24 will be tracked starting Sunday May 19th through Tuesday May 30th, so don't worry if you wind up needing extra time to catch up. Posts will run on a queue schedule.

Please look forward to it!

[shireenlakdawalausa]

Sasha Summer Basics ’24: A Collection of Elegance and Comfort

1. Sol: The Epitome of Elegance The Sol outfit, priced at $80, is crafted from breathable cotton and adorned with delicate lace and pearl appliqués. The design ensures a flawless fit, making it an ideal choice for those who seek effortless elegance.

2. Sunny Siren: A Burst of Sunshine Priced at $85, the Sunny Siren is a jaw-dropping yellow lace dress paired with high-waisted straight pants. This ensemble is crafted from ultra-breathable fabric, ensuring stylish comfort. It comes with a matching shamiz, adding to its appeal.

3. Sia: Luxurious Comfort The Sia ensemble, available for $75, is a khaki outfit made from ultra-soft cotton. Featuring sleek black lace and intricate appliqué details, this outfit is perfect for those who demand uncompromising style and glamour.

5. Indie: Ethereal Elegance Float through summer in the Indie ensemble, priced at $85. This breezy green outfit is crafted from breathable fabric and adorned with delicate lace details, offering effortless chic and elegance.

6. Clio: Sultry Summer Reverie The Clio outfit, available for $85, features a whisper-light, ultra-breathable fabric paired with a statement printed pajama. Delicate lace, intricate appliqué, and precise pintucks make this ensemble a high-fashion symphony.

7. Remi: Divine Fashion Statement Unleash your inner fashion goddess with the Remi ensemble, priced at $85. This outfit is made from whisper-light fabric with show-stopping print, intricate lace, and meticulous thread work, setting the trend for summer fashion.

9. Cyan: Sizzling Summer Spirit The Cyan outfit, priced at $85, is a cobalt blue masterpiece crafted from lightweight, breathable fabric. Paired with high-waisted dhooti pants, this ensemble epitomizes high-octane glamour and catwalk sophistication.

10. Daze: Chic and Trendy For $75, the Daze outfit offers a super chic, stylish dress paired with matching printed cotton pants. Made from breathable fabric, this ensemble promises comfort and elegance, with lace-appliqued sleeves adorned with pearls for added sophistication.

Conclusion

The Sasha Summer Basics ’24 collection by Shireen Lakdawala is a celebration of summer fashion, offering a range of outfits that combine elegance, comfort, and style. Each piece in the collection is designed with meticulous attention to detail, ensuring you stay fashionable and comfortable all summer long. Embrace the essence of summer with these exquisite ensembles and let your style speak volumes.

[lgcpoints]

LEE YUSHIN · MODELING CONTRACT (Q2-Q3)

- PASSSION5 SOLO: +10 MODELING, +11 NOTORIETY [ LINK ] 

- CLIO THREAD : +10 MODELING, +15 NOTORIETY [ LINK ]

✔︎ ACCEPTED

[nylaspeaks]

Litany for the Nine

Calliope, come with thunder on your tongue,

voice like a river etched in stone —

teach me the epic, the endless, the ever-after.

Calliope, speak.

Clio, gather the bones of time,

dust off the silence of forgotten names —

thread memory into meaning.

Clio, remember.

Erato, press your lips to the edge of longing,

let the verses drip with honey and ache —

make lovers immortal with your sighs.

Erato, sing.

Euterpe, daughter of melody and measure,

pluck my nerves like strings,

fill my mouth with song and sorrow.

Euterpe, play.

Melpomene, weep through the mask of grace,

break open the heart with ruinous beauty —

teach me to praise the wound.

Melpomene, cry.

Polyhymnia, cloaked in silence and sacred breath,

lift the prayer from trembling lips,

turn stillness into devotion.

Polyhymnia, rise.

Terpsichore, spin me into rhythm,

let my body be the poem,

let my feet write lines across the floor.

Terpsichore, move.

Thalia, light the room with laughter,

paint the world with mischief and mirth —

let joy be its own rebellion.

Thalia, laugh.

Urania, with stardust on your fingers,

chart the soul across constellations —

let the cosmos echo my questions.

Urania, shine.

[twobraincellkentwell]

Arthropoda

[A Game Called Revenge]

Part Twenty-One

Series Masterlist Part One.

Summary: “ʏᴇꜱ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴛ.”

If you had to fuck one, marry another, and kill the last, what would you choose? That's an interesting discussion in an arena made for death.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Murder and death. Mentions of sex probably.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I want to just say my usuals, I have a favourite line so if you can find it then let me know :) reblogs, shares and comments always appreciated.

“I’m not playing this ridiculous game.”

“Oh come onnnn, Gloss.” Cashmere pokes him. “It’s tradition.”

“Is it?” Heaving a sigh as he slumps himself against the bark of the tree trunk, Gloss glances over from where his gaze had been locked on the green underside of the canopy; his eyes drifting over to his sister beside him and his allies opposite. “I recall our traditions being more gruesome than a meaningless game.”

“It’s just a bit of fun.” Cato answers briskly, expression somehow simultaneously bored and instigating. He leans back, propped up against another large tree, one arm supporting his head and the other threading his fingers through Clio’s newly re-fastened loose ponytail which rests on his lap. “We’ve all played it.”

“I doubt that fuck, marry, kill is an average arena pastime.” Gloss says slowly, and Cashmere shakes her head.

“It’s not like that it means anything Gloss,” Cashmere shrugs, pointing at the couple from Two. “It can’t if they’re playing.”

“Hey!” Clio sits bolt-upright, nearly knocking herself out against Cato’s chin on the way up.

“I didn’t mean it badly, Clio.” Cashmere says with a shrug.

She turns her attention to the male half of the pair. “Whatever. Gloss? Are you playing?” 

“I literally just answered that. No.”

“You’re playing, or else I’ll tell the world about that thing.” Cashmere taunts.

“What thing?” The three remaining careers perk up and ask in unison. 

Cashmere ignores the intrigue of her allies and smirks over at her brother. “You know- that thing that happened in the viewing room of the seventy-second.”

Realisation dawns on Gloss’ face as it pales; whilst Clio and Cato both move their eyes rapidly back and forth, trying to piece together whatever was so embarrassing that he wouldn’t let her share. “What was it?”

“That’s my year! What happened?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Gloss seethes, also ignoring the fascination of the others. Much to their disappointment. When his sister simply raises a challenging eyebrow, he relents and sighs. “Fine. I’ll play.”

“Perfect.” She grins, cheering halfheartedly.

“No hang on. What was it?” Cato pesters him.

“Nothing you need to know.”

“ Definitely not. ” Cashmere snickers, laughter increasing when her brother flips her off without hesitation. 

“Are we gonna start or what?” Clio asks.

Cashmere’s hand shoots straight up - of course, she’d volunteer herself for a game like this. “Clio.” She prompts, directing her attention to her friend. “Fuck, marry, kill: Brutus, Haymitch and Ven.”

Clio gives her a deadpan stare as Cato and Gloss cackle. “Seriously? Bringing our mentor into this. Shame on you.”

“I know,” Cashmere replies smugly. “None of the options are really inviting. Unless you like older men- isn’t that right Clio?”

“I regret ever speaking to you.” Clio mutters darkly.

Cashmere’s jaw drops open in mock offence as the two men laugh even harder. Gloss manages to splutter another question directed her way, “Older men? I can’t be the only one thinking of Finnick.”

“I thought you were over that?” Cato rolls his eyes when Clio’s cheeks flush ever so slightly at their insinuations. 

“I was eight!” Clio hisses. “Anyway, kill Haymitch because I fucking hate his tributes, scum the lot of them, I’ll have to marry Brutus because I cannot fuck him. Which leaves Ven; guess he’ll have to do for a night.”

“Gloss, your turn.” Cato decides. “Fuck, marry, kill: Katniss, Mags and Finnick.”

The man’s eyebrows raise slightly, expression lifting as he ponders his choice. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Clio mocks him. “This is too easy. Cato, give him a harder choice.”

Gloss shakes his head. “Well I’d kill Finnick considering we’ve been hunting him all day.”

“Not because he’s a man?” Cashmere laughs.

“That too.” Her brother chuckles. “And then-”

“No, hold on.” Clio interrupts him. “You’d kill him over Katniss?”

“Don’t you want that honour? Now would you just shut up and let me finish. Kill Finnick. I’d have to fuck Katniss but only because I can’t do anything to Mags, that’s just disrespectful. I’d have to marry her if only to look after her at sea.”

“She’s been a victor forever.” Cato agrees, “Just think of the inheritance money.”

“Cato!” The siblings scold him in unison as Clio simply laughs and waves off their concern.

“Alright my turn. Cashmere, fuck, marry, kill: Topaz, Eden from Ten, and Enobaria.” Clio says.

“That’s actually kinda difficult.” Cashmere says slowly. “I’m worried about offending them.”

“Why?” Gloss asks. “If I had to then so do you.”

Cashmere rolls her eyes, as if the answer to her brother's line of questioning is obvious. “Enobaria can be scary as hell, Topaz literally holds my life in her hands right now, and the woman from Ten is literally dead.”

“Shouldn’t that make it easier?” Clio asks her in a whine. “C’mon.”

Cashmere sighs a little. “Kill Eden because I refuse to fuck a corpse. Marry Topaz because then I won’t have to move, and fuck Enobaria.”

Gloss almost squawks in surprise, whilst Clio and Cato both snicker and shake their heads. “Oooh shall I set you up with Enobaria?”

“That would be great but how are you going to do that Clio?”

“Like this.” She shrugs, tilting her head up towards the sky, opening her mouth to shout the blonde woman’s affection for her mentor into the viewing room but instead her words are muffled by Cashmere jumping over and pressing her hand over her mouth. 

“Stop, it’s Cato’s turn now.”

Gloss thinks for a moment, and after a moment of consideration offers his choices. “Fuck, marry, kill: Luna, Johanna and Wiress.”

“That’s a challenge.” Cashmere nods approvingly as Cato ponders, leaning forward to prop his chin up on his closed fist.

“Don’t think about it!” Clio whispers harshly.

“This is difficult.” He responds before mumbling, “I can’t win here.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck Johanna, Marry Luna and Kill Wiress.”

Cashmere tilts her head. “You’d kill Wiress?”

“I don’t think I could put up with Nuts for more than an hour.”

“But you’d marry Luna?” Clio inquires, her nose wrinkling in contempt. And jealousy - but she won’t admit that to anyone. “You could put up with her bullshit?”

“I think me and her would get along really well.” 

“Oh, really? You do?” 

“Clio. Please.” Cato sighs, moving his hand to rub small circles on his temples. “It’s a game. I’m never actually going to marry Luna.”

“I know. It’s fine.” She lies. “You did say she was pretty though…”

“Are we all in agreement about fucking Johanna?” Gloss cuts in. All four of them mutter their agreements, even Clio.

“She hates us all.”

“Even better.” Cato laughs.

Cashmere clearly didn’t want to deal with their argument right now. “My turn.”

“Do me.” Clio pipes up, and then laughs. “I didn’t-”

“Don’t do her.” Both Cato and Gloss said in unison, causing all four of them to break out in laughter - they’re tired, slightly sleep deprived states leading them to find it funnier than usual.

The game dies down after that, with the four of them promising each other ten minutes - not that they could even tell the time in here - of uninterrupted rest; though no one was allowed to sleep. They couldn’t waste any time. Clio shuffles down to lay down on the jungle floor, and Cato lies beside her, returning his arm to around her shoulder and pulling her into him slightly. Her head rests on his shoulder, and they get merely a minute of relaxation before they are alerted by rustling, paired with a clicking sound coming from deep inside the trees. They try to ignore it, brushing it off as their overactive, paranoid imaginations but it continues to grow in volume.

Cato jerks up from the floor, ears pricked with the sudden increase in intensity. He whispers Clio’s name. “Don’t panic, but there’s something right there.”

Clio leans into him more, turning her head to whisper back. “Where?”

He takes her wrist in his hand, gently guiding it so she is pointing right at it. “Right there. I dunno what the hell that thing is but it does not look friendly.” 

The jungle holds a foreboding presence as the four careers make panicked, wide eyes at each other. Shiny, black scorpions pour out from beneath the undergrowth, skittering across the floor and crawling over each other on the leaves. As if conjured from the depths of a nightmare, a colossal and angry insect lands on Cato’s shoulder with a thud. The insect’s grotesquely enlarged exoskeleton gleams with some sort of iridescence as its oversized legs grip his shoulder with an unsettlingly forceful grip. Its eyes reflect a primal fury as it fixes upon Cato, causing a mixture of shock and alarm to spread across his features; his body tenses and breath catches in his throat. His movements become cautious and deliberate so as not to increase the palpable anger of the insect, whose jaw clicks and wings quiver. The insect’s antennae twitches and legs shift as he attempts to ease the insect from his shoulder.

“Don’t move.” Clio whispers slowly, eyes locked onto the armoured body of the insect. She draws the smallest of her knives from the holster across her body, silently tracing the smooth metal of the handle before poising it perfectly between her fingertips and extending her arm. The knife flies a short distance through the air and hits the centre of the insect’s chest. The exoskeleton thuds as it makes contact with the tree behind Cato, pinning the pest to the bark.

The whirring gets louder, and the black wave of scorpions grows closer and more giant bugs take flight around them, the clashing of their pincers ringing in their ears. The four of them jump to their feet, dodging the bugs as they start to move. “I’m beginning to think that was the wrong thing to do!”

“Run!” She screams as they crawl closer, hands hitting Cato’s shoulder and forcing him to turn around. The chittering grows closer. “Fucking run!”

The sounds of the frantic buzzing drowns out all the other sounds of the jungle and creates a sensory overload that makes it difficult for them to focus on anything else. They see each other's mouths moving but no words or screams could be heard as they sprint in the direction of the beach. The dense overgrowth is covered in insects, bugs flying at them from all directions.

She feels one drop into her hair. She screams and slaps at it. The angry hell spawn stings her chin as it falls. She screams again. Running, she feels another come to attack her, swiping her hands at it she turns over her shoulder to see one of the bug’s pincers nip at the exposed flesh at Cato’s collar. She watches him swat harshly at it, sending the bug flying as they keep sprinting. Leaves and branches slap against their skin as they push through the dense jungle, the terror of the swarm propelling them forward, fueled by adrenaline. They all watch the bugs exiting the foliage in increasing numbers and with increasingly angry noises as they realise there must be hundreds - if not thousands - of insects in this small section of the jungle. 

If they could hear each other’s shouts, they’d hear the expletives they scream and the distress in their voices as various pincers grip and pull at the fabric of the wetsuit, ripping the resistant material. They jump over the vines, not expending excess energy to slash at them with their weapons, instead letting the weapons swing as they swat. Running ahead, Clio’s eyes rest on the giant, mottled grey domed structure that hangs suspended from the tree, numerous openings punctuating the nest.

She recognises it immediately, knowing only one thing in the world. To run. As fast and as far as possible. Or they’re all fucked. She’s sure Cashmere will have recognised it too, given the fate of her tribute last year. She turns on her heel, crashing straight into Cato’s chest. Confusion spreads across his face at her sudden behaviour but she wastes no time, trying to scream at him to turn around over the chittering noise of the insects. It’s no use, he can’t hear her and so she grabs his arm and runs to the side before turning ninety degrees to run around the nest which shakes from its branch. She drags him along behind her as they don’t turn back to watch their allies struggle to avoid the nest. Luckily they don’t see the glares thrown their way either as the siblings watch them sprint away, leaving them behind to catch up. 

Surging forwards the ground underneath their feet turns from soil to sand as they sprint across the beach, launching themselves into the water. They dunk themselves underwater with the aim to drown the insects that have been chasing them, only once they resurface do they realise that the bugs have not followed them out of the trees but the loud buzzing has continued and continues to deafen them. As she shakes the fallen leaves from her hair, her eyes catch sight of the familiar wetsuits on the other side of the beach, partially hidden by the rocks. She pushes Cato underneath again, following him when she thinks she spots one of the figures looking in their direction, ignoring the bewildered look he throws when they gasp for air. She nods her head over to the beach, grabbing his arm once more and struggling to plant her feet on the floor as she swims back to shore. They meet up again with their allies, forcing them to find the invisible wall of the jungle and dismissing their complaints. They hide themselves behind some low covering trees at the forefront, sitting as close to the beach as possible, waiting until the whirring of the insect’s wings stops. 

Cato takes her face in his hand to examine the bright red welt on her chin. There was another one on her collarbone and she has a third on the back of her neck where her hairline begins. The others have fared about the same, with Gloss being forced to rip his wetsuit clean off at his waist while Cashmere resides herself to sit in silence. There is a giant welt on the back of Cato’s hand as he drops his sword and asks Clio to cut the dishevelled fabric of his wetsuit. Drawing a knife in her left hand, she drags the blade carefully across the neoprene; meticulously slicing as straight a cut as possible. He throws aside the top half of the wetsuit, accepting Clio’s knife in his hand as she instructs him where to cut hers and that if he even so much as nicked her skin she would haunt him forever from the afterlife. The four careers lay back on the soil, resting momentarily to cool down and catch their breath before Clio says, “Well, I found Finnick.”

“Where?” Gloss asks excitedly, nodding his head rapidly as Clio points over to the other side of the beach. 

“Right, here’s what we’ll do.”