#mythvoiced

[wellfell]

i'm kinda emotional because in this reply i'm writing akina is reminded of the tigers in her mansion when she thinks about eren's glares and .. this is so iconic tbh . the same tigers that tried to eat her when she was nine . hehe .

[clemencetaught]

I wasn't sure if y'wanted them sent in today or tomorrow, BUT TO NOT MESS UP-- (you mentioned answering ic in the tags so yeeting these directly at Patrick >:3 sorry if they're too many omg)

Patrick (any verse)

What does it feel like when others depend on you, in one way or another?

Are you more prone to assuming someone needs you (in a service kind of way, for aid, for support-) or more likely to think they don't?

If psychics were 120% reliable and you could connect to those long gone… would you?

In which contexts are you more 'do as I say not as I do' and in which will you listen to your own advice?

Do you ever catch yourself growing… a little bitter, maybe, at people describing their comparatively 'mundane' problems? Is it envy?

Do you believe children should be shaped for the likeliest future or the future should be shaped for the children to come?

When is self-sacrifice acceptable?

When is hurting those you love acceptable?

in which the 54th victor of the hunger games gives an impromptu interview ( nosy questions for the birthday enby w/ @mythvoiced )

The tea cup is set on the saucer. Discreetly, Patrick slides his other hand into his pocket, where the synthetic patch on his palm wraps around his pocket knife– a habit of sorts, since he won his games. His pocket watch sits on the table, next to the saucier and on his lap, Sun has wrapped herself into a ball, her paws disappearing into the mass of orange fur. On the balcony outside his apartment in the Capitol, this is the only place Patrick knows he will be granted a modicum of privacy in the viper’s nest. 

The shadow of the balcony covers the upper half of his body. Sun keeps dozing on his lap, in the sun. 

Most times, when the questions are directed at him, they’re expecting an affirmative. Doesn’t matter if it’s coming from a District person or a Capitolite– they go to him for answers, first and foremost. And in the case of the latter, these questions are not questions so much as veiled demands. 

Ones that he must always accommodate, regardless of the nature of the demand. 

But these questions, this voice, is…well they seem genuinely curious. And the questions they’ve lobbed his way, they don’t seem to be expecting one correct answer.

Sun shifts on his lap. His leg vibrates from her purring. Patrick sighs, leaning back on his chair. “That…quite a lot of thoughts you have going on there, hm?” The knife stays in his pocket as he gently scratches the top of Sun’s head. “I’ll answer your second question first: people will always look out for themselves first. If they don’t think you’re useful, that you can contribute something good to their lives, then you’re dead to them, if they don’t kill you first. Make yourself indispensable to them and they won’t hurt you.” At least that’s what he tells himself– it’s easier to simply assume anyone who approaches him that they want something he can give them. “The younger victors will need someone to guide them anyway.” 

And even the ones who vehemently deny needing someone, anyone. Patience is always key in those instances– from Taiyang whom it took almost six years and his tribute’s sanity to finally approach Patrick to María, who still slaps away any hands offered, friend or foe. Ironically, he had to approach her first.  

“…I suppose I don’t think too much about that. If someone was asking for your help, you would be more caught up in what they’re asking, more than how you were feeling no?” A Trojan horse, he’s lobbed in their direction although he’s quick to revise: “...It scares me sometimes.” He confides, fingers pausing in their administrations on Sun’s head. Actually it scares him, a lot. “They’re…they’re relying on me to guide them to the best outcome and I want the same thing for them. I promise you, I really, truly do.” Whether it’s Hyuk, Devora, a tribute he’s been assigned to mentor, or any of the victors. And sometimes even the furball in his lap and yet– “But I…I can’t always guarantee that. But they still trust me, especially the younger ones.” The tributes from District Three– his tributes, the ones who take his hand, look up at him with wide eyes, clinging to every word, every gesture he makes as it will guarantee their survival. “Sometimes I think it would be better if they exercised more caution with me.”   

A smile, bittersweet, if not actually just bitter, graces his lips. He shakes his head though, chuckling at the next question. “...Forgive me, that’s quite a question you have there. ‘Psychics’... I don’t believe that’s information that just anyone, district or Capitol, can get ahold of–  although I have heard of some old religions still practiced in the districts so I suppose the knowledge and belief in such mediums is possible to get ahold of.” He stares down at his tea, the steam still rising. Even if it is a hypothetical question on a medium known to be more shoddy than reputable, he can’t help but pause. If they could contact those ‘long gone’; would that mean, if he asked them to, would he be able to speak to her one last time–

He shakes his head, eye catching his pocket watch, metal beaten and faded, the clock face wearing a crack down the right side. Still, it shimmers in the sunlight. “Even if I could, I…I highly doubt she would want to talk to me of all people.” If they hadn’t met, if they hadn’t fallen in love, she probably would still be alive. Tellessa’s family too. 

After all, he was the first person outside of Tellessa who knew about her forbidden books. “Wherever they are, it’s probably better than here.” Or at least he hopes it is for her. A place where life doesn’t have to be perfect, but it is…easier. A place for souls to rest at long last. If such a place even exists in the first place. He picks up his saucer once more, still careful not to jostle Sun on his legs. She’s taken to loafing now– he knows her eyes are closed even if her head dips every few seconds. But make no mistake, that does not mean she is unaware. Trusting of the one asking the questions. If it was just him, she would be stretched out, a white underbelly waiting for his hand to scratch kindly at the ceiling.

Perhaps the saying is true after all: like owner, like pet. Although Patrick would argue she’s more like Hyuk if anything.

“It depends on the circumstances,” he says as neutrally as possible. A vague answer for a hypothetical question, because that is truly it. “I suppose if one’s life was on the line, it would be better if they followed my lead, no?” 

Not that that’s stopped, those with rebellious tendencies from committing treason anyways. ( And unfortunately, he can name more than one. ) It is ironic in that manner– for someone who knows the system, knows how to work within the rules all, has spent years perfecting his craft in survival arts, it would make more sense to invest on those with similar goals. And yet here he is, worrying about the ones who are decided not interested in survival and therefore would spurn his advice at any given moments. “Not that…that following my advice has ever helped them make it through.” 

(His tributes. All thirty nine of them. No two games are ever the same, the gamemakers would never allow that. If the circus known as the Hungers Games must be reborn over and over again if it wishes to continue.)

He takes a sip of his tea, washing down the momentary displeasure. Or at least he thinks it will be only a moment long. “I suppose what a Capitol citizen would consider a ‘mundane issue’, as you put it, would differ from those of someone from the districts. The former does seem more inclined towards complaining if only to build comradery amongst one another. I’m just glad that they have such means to…channel their frustrations.” 

( It’s in times like those, where he wishes his temper could curdle, the way Devora’s does in the face of the Capitol Elite. How he wishes he could simply let her use the knife to silence those idle complaints. )

Patrick takes another sip of his tea. It burns in his throat. It’s bitter too– he must have let the leaves seep for too long. But the asperity doesn’t just settle on his tongue. “Are we talking about an ideal world or the one we live in now? Depending on who you ask this question to, you’re guaranteed to get quite…different answers.” A smile, as frigid as the shaved ice the Capitol serves as a delicacy during the games, crosses his lips. “Our great nation was built to provide safety and prosperity for the children. To serve them. Although whether the truth is actually the other way around will again, depend on who you ask. As a mentor to my tributes, I suppose…we can’t deny the reality in front of us, no?”

Sun yawns. He puts his tea down and idly, he scratches the underside of her chin and he feels her purring against his finger. “Are you sure you should be asking me that question? I would think there are more…suitable candidates for this question.” People like Hyuk, he means. People like María– the kinds who would gladly make sacrifices, give pieces of themselves for a cause. “Self-sacrifice won’t get you where you need to be– there’s a reason martyrs are only known after their death– they’re even given a chance to be known. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool. They’re only deluding themselves into believing they can make everything better. A…colleague of mine said it best: ‘a martyr works, a survivor works better’. If you want to truly help the ones around you, self-sacrifice will only get you so far.”

Or so Patrick claims. He can hear it though– the sound of Hyuk shouting at him to stop lying. The truth is, self-sacrifice, if it is for a tangible reason, is…well maybe it is not worthwhile, but it can be certainly respected, especially if this tangible reason is a human life. The Capitol will always wonder what spurred Patrick to hold his district partner’s hand even if it burned a hole through his skin, will always wonder why Taiyang insisted on protecting Link in the arena, will always wonder why, why, why would Devora so willingly serve as President Snow’s puppet even if it further severs her ties to the districts despite everything the games took from her.

They would never understand compassion in a dog-eat-dog world– self sacrifice.

“...However, I suppose, if there was truly a good reason to do so…well, I have yet to see it.”

( Like the promise of a better world. If there is even one that exists. )

His hand stops. Sun turns her head towards him, copper eyes watching him. “When do we not hurt the ones we love?” Perhaps the better question for him is: when is he not hurting the ones he loves? He saw it in her eyes and Hyuk’s too. And yet they forgave him, somehow, every time. If not for that, well…would there even be a reason to keep going? “That’s part of caring for someone, no? You are preparing for them to hurt you without retaliation.” He shakes his head, snorting. “I think the answer should be obvious, if it guarantees their well-being in the long run, I think that is a gamble to be considered. That being said–” 

Sun jumps off his lap and stretches, paws facing this curious passerby. Patrick crosses his legs, hands resting on his lap. A veneer, similar to the one he dons in the Capitol flashes through, even if he is not currently in his usual suit. “You wouldn’t want to be close with someone like me. I’ve been known to have…a reputation of sorts. One of burning and you could…no, you would most definitely get hurt, one way or another and we wouldn’t want that happening, no? Just a thought for you to consider.”

He watches Sun make her way to the sliding glass door in the shade. Her tails whips side to side as she looks up at the handle. Then she looks at him and meows. 

Patrick glances at his pocket watch. “It’s feeding time for Sun.” Well, sort of– it’s more like it’s half an hour before her feeding time, but he knows gets antsy the closer meal time gets around. But this person doesn’t have to know that. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking care of business now. If you need anything more, you know where to find me.”

Or better yet, he’ll know where to find them.

[stillresolved]

It's symbolic, whenever he and Ballister narrowly meet each other from these two different fronts they've taken on in a battle he'd never dreamed of seeing, not even in his worst nightmares, to be anything but at eye-level.

Ambrosius stares up at a shape he hates to call villainous, the menacing silhouette, the distance Ambrosius is himself participant in creating, and feels the squeeze of it in his chest.

"Bal!" he shouts, because as much as Bal doesn't seem able to stop whatever crazy crusade he's set himself on, Ambrosius can't let him go on it.

"Can't we talk? Can't we try to talk? Just once?" a pause, a harsh breath under widened, pleading eyes, shortness he can't justify, because he doesn't feel physically exerted... as much as he feels always on that precipice his heart is hanging from.

"Here," he throws his sword to the ground, symbolic and idiotic, and a reminder of what he did with it. He grimaces. "Let's talk."

((ONE FOR THE KNIGHT EXES!!!!!!!!! for some bizarre reason I feel like I've written something similar already SO FORGIB ME IF IT'S REPETITIVE OF SOMETHING OF THE PAST 🥺 also hope it makes sense, wasn't so sure about the writing here, MWAH ♥ ALSO HOPE IT'S NOT GOD-MODDY? to yknow idk i had this visual of Ballister 'having the high ground' Obi-wan style so hope it's okay~?))

@mythvoiced / so he picked violence today....

Oh Ambrosius. 

Bright-eyed, righteous, level-headed Ambrosius. Sweet, loving, hopeful Ambrosius.

That’s why Ballister was drawn to him, all those years ago, wasn’t it? Because Ambrosius, heir to the heroine herself, beloved child of the Kingdom, always saw the best in people and Ballister only knew the worst of people. Lived as if he only expected the worst of people.

Loving Ambrosius was an exercise in faith. Faith that against all odds, things would turn out okay. Even if the nay-sayers said Ballister would one day end up in the very prison cells they used to lock away the criminals threatening the good of the kingdom. Even if the nay-sayers said Ballister was only using Ambrosius for extra points with the queen. Ambrosius always told him to ignore those voices. Words said out of love, out of encouragement, Ballister knows, but how could he say such callous words when Ambrosius has always lived his life, knowing who he is, knowing what his destiny would always be?

( And to some degree, Ballister will only admit when he is alone, it came true. The faith that Ambrosius believed so fervently in did bare fruit. Or at least, it should've, if not for– )  

How? Ballister has always wanted to ask him- how did it feel to step forward in life, always knowing the summit would be the inevitable destination? What was it like, knowing that even if he did stray from the path a little, his destiny would still be there waiting for him, like an armor waiting for its knight to slip into the shell?

The ground shakes beneath them. Ballister keeps his feet planted on the ground as part the wall begins to crumble. Lower, at its foundation, a pink dragon metaphorizes itself into a rhinoceros. A speedier steed as the knights of the kingdom charge at her. Nimona will be able handle them by herself for the time being, but soon, Ballister will join her. The mastermind, hand in hand with the heart of the crusade. 

For now, there is another matter, one in the shape of his beloved a hero of the realm to contend with. A knight, it seems, who foolishly approaches Ballister, not as an enemy, but as a lover. Ballister tries not to let it show: the way his fingers twitch around his sword. When was the last time someone had called him Bal?

It doesn’t help that Ambrosius is looking upon him, pleadingly, like he knows, believes that Ballister will be a better man. Ambrosius, the hero of the realm, the champion of justice, light, and most of all peace. Ambrosius, who looks at Ballister like he is still that man from three years ago, a man who is better than the crude means of plundering and vandalism and violence he has sunken to.

Ambrosius is a man who sees the best in people. Sees and believes in the best of everyone. That is why he is considered the HOPE of the Kingdom, one who speaks and believes in the potential for peace and serenity in the realm for both humans and monsters alike. 

Ballister watches Ambrosius throw his sword to the side. Gloreth’s blade clangs against the ground– what scandal, what blasphemy, how far will the golden child fall now– the metal echoing against the cobblestones. Ballister keeps his grip steady around his sword with no intention of mirroring his love. Nor of sheathing said blade either.

However.

However much of a hero Ambrosius may be, he is still but one person in a system of thousands. And a system that keeps the walls of the Kingdom up, a system that declares monsters savages to be destroyed, a system that casts outliers like Ballister as no better than monsters themselves, is a system, which keeps the Kingdom at the top, that is inherently violent. 

“Talking won’t change anything. The Kingdom will never change unless something is done. You know that as well as I do– try speaking to the Director about the monsters as anything but vermin. She’s already closed her ears to any alternatives.”

Ambrosius can speak of peace and compromise all he wants, but the only thing that such a system will respond to, the only action that will bring about change is violence itself. 

Ballister points his blade at him, the man he once loved. “You’ve chosen your grave where you stand now, Goldenloin. Prepare yourself.”

[kamipyre]

and one thing for a certain model.... || closed starter for @mythvoiced ♡

“I wanted to be an actor when I was younger.” Before her parents died to be exact, but realistically, even without the burn scars, Suki knows she wouldn’t have made a very good one. The fox in her hands continues to build itself. “Aren’t there lots of actors who start their careers late anyways?”

[hymnoire]

The palms of her hands down the desk, her eyes are resting on every single piece of evidence gathered : photos of the women both Doe ( @mythvoiced ) and Mara have managed to identify as trafficked in the network of sex workers she has been tracking for weeks now. If Mara could gather the profiles of half of them, the other half came from Doe and his own investigations : as a way for him to prove how serious he is on his offer, he wants to help.

"Impressive." The word is meant. "I know you got this whole anarchism, fuck the system, death to the monarch vibes going on for you but : you would make a good inspector. You did a good job." It always is a dangerous line for her to walk : Detective Lim Maritza works alone and insists on working alone. Trust, she refuses to give to the first man in a suit pretending to seek Justice and fight for a brighter world. Yet after weeks of back and forth between Doe and her, she must admit, he's an asset. "You're serious about helping these women, aren't you?"

[r4bidog]

there's more to the story, isn't there? - from Jihwa, MWAH MWAH MWAH ♥ love seeing him back, love the new url, my favourite doggy~

 restless , barely stopping the bouncing of his leg for one minute when one of the guards hisses at him to stop it . he stares at the woman with a smile that suggests nothing but violence ; how could it not ? when he was covered in bruises , when his lip was split and his finger broken . still throbbing in pain , adding to his discomfort . the story of the murders that happened around manyang wasn't even on the list of the things he had to worry about , nor the girl that died which he lied about being friends with . what was her name again ? was she a highschooler ? she opens the pink file , reads about his past experiences with crime . it must be some dusty records that choi mujin had forgotten to destroy when he recruited him . when he gathered a boy from the streets because he wasn't about to go back home even if mujin told him no .

 dongcheon wasn't too much , but the streets were . . . it was too hard . so he had to stay exactly where he was and not let a tiny town bring him down from his throne of gold . a tiny town and its tiny police toys . he shifts in his seat and closes his eyes , his leg still bouncing and she reads through his file ; neck arching , facing the ceiling with closed eyes . when her voice reaches his ears he doesn't sit straighter but his mouth tugs in a bigger grin . ❛ i don't think that pretty head of yours is ready to listen to the real story . ❜  getting inside dongcheon was just the start of his miserable life , and before that , he wasn't a living thing . just a punching bag — but dongcheon made him into a stray with mind , with bare teeth , with a loud voice . eventually , sitting better , staring at her with the same smile as he lets his hands rest on his lap . ❛ listen , jagiya , you get back to your own little murder story and leave my big city crimes alone . how much do you want , to let go of me ? ❜  the cops he bought with money might as well become the permanent guests of his table . if he himself was present in it anyway . ❛ a beach house in jeju ? a penthouse in seoul ? cars ? ❜

[guqinstrings]

-ˋˏ🌥 ┈┈ @mythvoiced Jiang Wanyin ; ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ

   IT WOULD SEEM THAT despite all attempts, he can’t entirely avoid Jiang Wanyin even if he wants to. How very odd, when they were teenagers he barely ever saw him, but when he actively attempts to stay away from Yunmeng, he still runs into him. Technically, Yiling is close to Yunmeng, so it does seem reasonable that Jiang Wanyin would be here. However, considering the fact that this was where Wei Wuxian spent his last final year, where he died, he thought Jiang Wanyin would avoid it. Or maybe, that was why he wasn’t. 

   Maybe he was here for the same reason Lan Wangji was. Chasing ghosts. 

   Inquiry, when he has played it here, it hasn’t called his soul. Still, he always comes back to try because this was where he died. The places of death tend to be the easiest ones to summon a specific soul. They tend to linger where they died, after all. He blinks at the purple clad cultivator across from him, a steady breath pulled into his lungs and then Lan Wangji goes to step around him. 

[ofgentleresolve]

ferre makes aesthetics ( 2 / ??? ) : sarang

"she did not need love, the way she needed hatred to survive succeed."

( photos do not belong to me and sarang belongs the wonderful @mythvoiced ! )

[misassumed]

@mythvoiced sent in: " all of my wildest dreams, they just end up with you and me " - from Ambrosius >:3 (aLSO YOUR URL how!!!!! YOU'RE!!! SO GOOD AT URLS--!!!!!!!!!!!!) || lyric starters meme

Hasn’t that always been the case?

Ballister is no stranger to living life on the edge. Even before their death, all it took was one accident, one mistake to tank the savings his parents spent months building up. Their community was not much better either. Funds saved up to improve infrastructure, the community center, the mosque could disappear without any warning. 

And then one accident, one accident was all it took to take his parents and then his home.

And still, he dreamed, dreamed of standing at the side of the Kingdom as a hero of the realm.

Even when the queen inducted him as a squire, he could never find better footing. He knew; one mistake, that’s all he needed if he wanted to be put back in the streets. And yet that dream, his dream never strayed far. Stayed so close to him every time he reached for it, he could feel it, like silk, between his fingers before it to slipped away.

He thought being with Ambrosius would have been like that too. At first, it was a pipe dream- being friends with the descendent of Gloreth, herself? Impossible. Ambrosius falling in love with him? Gloreth’s descendent wouldn't do that. Dating and building a life with Ambrosius? A life that both Ambrosius and the Kingdom would approve of?

Only a fool would dream to do so.

And yet.

And yet, it had all been in Ballister’s hand, once upon a time. So close, sometimes Ballister’s phantom arm twitches at the thought of it. Silk, golden white like Ambrosius’ hair resting between his fingers. Sometimes Ballister doesn’t dare to move his arm in those moments because what if it still was all possible? Maybe if he’s careful enough, this time, it won’t slip away-

He’s only deluding himself. The world isn’t meant to be draped in sheets of white silk and Ballister doesn’t believe it’s all gray or varying shades of black either. It doesn’t have to be- Nimona taught him that- that splash of PINK on an otherwise pristine canvas.

Why should he have to keep chasing a future, a dream that keeps running away when he catches up?

He won’t do it anymore. He can’t, even if it’s Ambrosius who beckons him to come back. He won't trade a clad of black armor sprinkled with specks of pink for the pristine white and gold banner one he longed to wave once upon a time.

The day Ballister left the Kingdom, three years ago, he set aside that dream. Broke it in two alongside the life he once shared with Ambrosius. No more. No more.

( Even if he cried, staring at the remains of them. What they were. What they would have been. )

Now there’s only them, surrounded by the ruckus. And Nimona, in the back, picking off Ambrosius’ backup with generous strokes of her claws.

“Don’t say that, Ambrosius. You- you of all people don’t get to say that to me,” Ballister says, finally. The sword held by his mechanical arm feels heavy as he points it at his beloved enemy. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

[ofpsyche]

"Oh, give me a break," there's something about the way his face morphs from growing annoyance back to a smile that stinks an awful lot like derision. The lifted eyebrow, the slight lean-in of his upper body as though pushing closer will allow him to see for sure whether Subin is fucking with him or not, it all paints Rang as someone moments from laughing about every corner making up Subin's existence. "You're a military boy? Seriously? You buy into that crap? Die for your country and all that? Did your parents drop you on your head as a kid?" @mythvoiced

subin blinked. literally the only thing he did. was he suppossed to react differently? a hand found it's way onto the older guys shoulder to push him back into his place. the now grim reaper was still pretty relaxed as he countered. "bit rich coming from you, isn't it?" yet subin grinned. " it was to infiltrate the japanese military back then before we more or less were found out and got executed. " he shrugged. he would consider joining again if he was human. reincarnated. " there wasn't much of a choice i had back then. i was of age and it was mandatory. i did my best and could leave without regret, otherwise nobody here would be able to handle you properly now. "

" now, unless you plan on kissing me, sit back and be a good fox." pushing him back into his own seat subin too leaned back, legs crossed as he thought back to the time japan invaded korea. it wasn't pretty but it was when he was born, grew up and fought for his home. was he patriotic? yes. probably. but now, eighty years later that was different. it wasn't that patriotic anymore was it, unless you were american. either way, alive or grim reaper. he adored the country he was born into.

subin never really changed either. he had always been respectful, helpful and strategic but calm and level headed in any situation. that is probably why he became the mission's leader back then. shortly before that he had found out his sister had passed away.

" just to annoy you more I'll let you know my little sister followed and changed sides with me because she was worried. to this day i don't know how she found out.." it was a well kept secret and yet sujin managed to find out. and now both were grim reapers. " silly girl got shot just a couple of days before we were found out because of a feud between korean rebels and japanese officers." a sigh. this would be such a great story for his grandchildren if he had not died and would have a family of his own.

[wellfell]

 whenever karube daikichi gets drunk , akina thinks she should simply stop drinking for the night . not because he makes a fine example of how badly drunk people make decisions and start fights out of nowhere , but because they both remember what happened the last time they both drank a few too many shots of tequila . police sirens and a dark room in an outlaw friend's house — messy clothes on the floor , an empty bed in the morning . akina thinks karube often does her a favor when he leaves so early in the morning when they've made it clear that emi wasn't wrong in her accusations .

 & they're not back there , are they ? and what they drink isn't expired because shota told them . kuina was the one who drank alongside the chronic drunks , karube and akina , as if to accompany them .

 but they've disappeared into the mall again . ghost stores that sell nothing useful anymore , with no one to tell them not to step on the grass . the grass that's grown in the heart of the mall they were hiding from the king of spades . and while she giggles at his determination , while her eyelids fall upon feeling his warm breath on her black locks , akina thinks they'd be the funniest couple the spades king has killed if he was to find them . her smaller hands grip onto his shirt , keep him close while they sway to the rhythm of a song that doesn't exist . there were some pigeons that flapped their wings from time to time , and sometimes she could hear a crow scream outside as the sun set . arisu told them they could spend the night here , kuina went to look at the car gallery with tata and akina made bets with arisu that she could definitely find some alcohol in this place . [ @mythvoiced ]

 nature invaded the modern world , it's almost poetic . she lets her pale arms snake around his thin neck , as she gazes up at him with a tilted head . any woman who's with a younger man had probably done it by accident , they don't usually go out seeking ones like karube if they're her age . five / four years is a lot — but karube has some kind of tragic maturity to his boyish confusion . had seen the disgusting side of the world at such a tender age , and nothing could surprise him anymore . that has drawn akina in , she keeps telling herself he makes up for his young age by being mature but she also knows he has every right to act his age when he refuses to . ❛ hmm . . . mmm no . what if he walks in on us ? the spades guy . i wonder if he ever had a girlfriend . ❜  a foolish thought to wander about , she lets her mouth tug in a crooked grin as she lets her upper half fall forward toward him . almost hanging from around his neck , even if the action makes the wound on her arm throb in warning . ❛ daikichiii . . . carry me back to arisu and usagi . i don't want to walk . ❜

  📝   ─  *

[clemencetaught]

"Thank you so much for introducing me into your busy schedule," Hermes says and he's oh so very polite, epitome of status and class, of the Capitol, complete with something less polite glistening in his eyes, making his stare resemble the kind worn by someone curiously waiting to see whether the distracted mouse will see the lurking cat in time. He comes up around Patrick, offering his hands. "Let me take your coat, hm? Care for a drink?" ((btw if Patrick is more of a jacket kinda peep here pretend it says jacket >:3333333)) || a year late but here we are ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

One would think at his age, the stream of clients on his end would be slowing down by now. The copious amounts of surgeries and skin care routines Capitolites undergo would indict so– he’s already past his prime and with the pool of victors always growing larger and larger each year, he would assume the Capitol’s attention on him would fade. The Capitolites are like crows in that respect, eyes drawn to what is shiny and what is new, their attention spans that of goldfishes.

One would think then, that he’d be discarded by now, being OLD now and therefore in the Capitol’s eyes, as good as dead.

“But of course,” Patrick says astutely, flinching when he realizes the client has managed to sneak behind him. Well that’s new– most clients wait for him in their bedrooms. Most clients would have their avoxes let him in, the task of welcoming a guest apparently too arduous for those of their class. And most clients wouldn’t offer to take coats either. Perhaps this one was raised with a military background of sorts.  “Your father has a great deal of connections to the games and President Snow certainly didn’t want to disappoint his son. You know our president holds the games to the highest esteem.”

The coat stays on for a moment longer. He tries to savor it, his armor, as he looks around the foyer. It’s ornate, just like all the ones that came before. And all the ones that will come afterwards– at some point when you’ve seen one interior of a mansion, you’ve seen it all. The heirs of the elite aren’t much better and with the way his newest client looks at him, like he’s supposed to provide some sort of entertainment at the moment, Patrick can only bite back a sigh. Only three hours, Patrick tells himself. Slowly, he forces a smile. Three hours and then he can get on a train and go back home. Back to Sun. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Patrick says, finally offering Mister Hermes his coat. His stomach turns. “I suppose we all need a drink before the main event, hm? And a chance for me to get to know you, my dear.”

[stillresolved]

💕!!??! almost missed this 🥺 mx ferre, what if we... put (more of) our goons in (more) situations 🥺

@mythvoiced / send 💕 and I will tell you some muses…

ahhhh lenlen, the other person on here who enables me with 283948230 plots and dynamics...time for us to add like 8293048293 more 💕💕💕

okay so this was at the top of my list since you said?? That you were planning on bringing EUNJAE into our wonderful thg verse 🥺🥺🥺…and so the first person I actually though of throwing at them was ANNIE….I dunno?? I guess I just have a feeling that Annie would like eunjae for their personality- like they’re rough in mannerisms and a tad messy, both of which Annie doesn’t mind bc she’s used to being around ppl like that ( ie. Ga-ram & ara ) and also…I think she actually prefers…I think being treated completely like a piece of glass will begin to drive her up the wall :’D also my interpretation of annie is suspicious of most men/male-aligning individuals….so eunjae already checks all her boxes there <3

another dynamic I had been thinking about when you changed their fc :’D granted I’m not too sure how well these two would work out since SABRIEL isn’t the best at reading between the lines and ANNIE often operates in shades of grey but it would!! Be fun to see how they interact with one another especially at least for me throwing Annie at someone who is peppy and yet still for most part?? has good intentions?? even if sabriel can’t completely empathize with what Annie is going thru, I do think Annie would appreciate their good intentions at the very least :’D

DOE is a revolutionist (and a hacker, I could have sworn I read that somewhere but if not ignore me jfksljfsl :’D) and so is NELL, do I need to say anything more? granted they are on the same side when it comes to #revolution…but that doesn’t mean they agree to the degree which they should go for it. Doe is all for changing the system, where as team checkmate is more focused on….taking out one and only one enemy and looking out for their community. Perhaps interacting with someone like doe could radicalize her? also if doe is a hacker, nell can always have…a rival :)

okay HEAR ME OUT, I know that we do have EUNJAE and Patrick in verse one but WHAT ABOUT?? Eunjae and MYUNGDAE in verse two bc if Patrick is the competent if not a tad distant parent ( aka he had to adjust to fatherhood ngl ), then myungdae is…well think of say, jeo*ng jin*man from a shop of ki*llers, :’D aka parent that’s there, he just looks ( okay always looks ) a tad exhausted?? Out of it even? But he’s doing his best for four year old Yuri (Elise) even if he doesn’t quite feel his emotions fjskldfjs this is all to say since I’m seeing that lynnie is throwing Dante at them we might as well…bring the rest of the crime world to eunjae’s doorstep JFKLSDJFLD <3

If AERI knows of hyun, then she’s also gotta know…hyun’s sister, MIYOUNG 🤩🤩🤩 granted, Aeri might be a tad testy with miyoung since well, it’s not like miyoung could exactly be there for hyun when they were younger and is that really any different from the way bel and sera treated Aeri as condescendingly inferior :’DD ….but I also do like the idea of LGBTQ+ icons being friends with one another / media pals with one another….that and if hyun is hanging out with bel behind Aeri’s back, Aeri might as well…do the same 😂😂😂

you know who MARÍA reminds me of? Yeah that’s right, our favorite pink hair menace Nimona 🤩🤩🤩 they’re both little gremlins ( but very lovable) who wanna start shit. The revolutionary kind of shit…so this being said….WHAT IF?? Instead of Nimona being the cause of BALLISTER’S shift in mind, it could be maría instead?? We could even do it in their modern verse since I believe María does have one and is a werewolf there 🤔🤔🤔

so I know we already have a lot for them, PATRICK and MARÍA and I am a sucker for hurt/comfort with these two, but perhaps?? Later when the revolution is in full swing and should hyuk be kidnapped by the Capitol, a thread there? Aka Patrick cycles between being 💯 focused on the revolution efforts and being two steps away from a mental breakdown bc literally hyuk is his rock and his peace so take away that and uh….not good things happen. This is all to say, it could be interesting to see a scenario where perhaps maría for once is the stabler one ( however much Patrick will try to still be a pillar of stability for her tho 🥲 )

[kamipyre]

The newspaper is pleasant in Patrick's hands: always a fan of analog over digital - but never in a way that would paint him as anything but a relaxed nostalgic, as opposed to a fanatic. No, he just likes to feel things.

He flicks at the corners, scans the front and barely frowns at all the lovely murder news that make out most of what people speak of today. Bare bones interest fades into curiosity and when Patrick hands the newspaper back to the forensic scientist, he accompanies it with the question: "True crime. Yes or no?"

And an attentive gaze.

"What do you think of it?"

((i wanted to send Patrick in bc i needed EVERY excuse to throw more at Suki but why is he so LOW ENERGY ALWAYS, have an interesting conversation topic i would have otherwise asked as hc question for Suki at one point HEHEHE~))

that doesn't sound like a boston accent... ( ft. unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

IT’S THAT PERSON AGAIN. The one that dropped by the precinct on a whim. She almost doesn’t recognize him from the previous time even if he is once more in a suit…he can’t be from around here; most people in LA don’t bother dressing up. Or if they do, it’s never just a plain old suit­– Suki would know; Los Angeles is supposed to be the city of celebrities and influencers. How the New Yorkers at Wall Street do it, even in the summer, is beyond her.

Anyways. This guy must be from the Northeast, Boston, maybe. It would explain the clipped tone. And the self-assurance, too, as if he’s asking a very serious question…and she ought to know about it too.

( She doesn’t, by the way. She doesn’t even know his name…so far she’s been calling him the ‘Wolf Suit Man’, not to be mixed up with Detective Lang. )

But she takes the newspaper­– the LAPD gets them for free anyways– back and deciding he’s a much more interesting subject than headlines for today, tilts her head. Odd question to ask someone in law enforcement.  And then she shrugs. “I’ve never tried it– I already see it in my job every day. Why would I want to bring it home?” She looks him in the eye– icy blue, as if they are from the glaciers of the Ice Age itself– “If it’s a matter of learning self-defense, I already have people I can ask. Why? Do you like true crime? I thought you weren't a fan of crime or of law enforcement!”

[wellfell]

@mythvoiced .

nessa barrett x american jesus

[battleguqin]

mythvoiced asked:

"you might wish you're going to die. you might wish you're going to die, but you're not going to." - HI THERE ♥ this is from jiang cheng >:3

He rarely got sick and more so he rarely got sick far from Cloud Recesses. Lan Sizhui was often a traveler between the Sects for his Sect Leader or Grand Uncle when something needed to be delivered it was often a double edged sword being the most responsible.

He knew Lotus Pier as Jin Ling had dragged him there to visit. Though he always suspected he was a buffer between Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng. Today though he had just been dropping off an invitation for A-Ling who was stuck doing Sect Work.

He never imagined he'd be allergic to something as silly as a fish bite. He was dabbing his eyes with the wet towel and the water some of the ladies of the Sect had brought him. "I know, it is often painless when you are actually dying." he croaked out and dabbed his neck and face with the cool fabric. As a doctor he knew it would fade. "I never imagined one could be allergic to a fish bite." he said looking up blurry at Sect Leader Jiang.

Moving to try to bow to the man only upset his already ill body more and he looked sheepish. Blurry Violet eyes were cast down. "Apologies Sect Leader Jiang I can not properly bow to you." he sounded truly miserable.

"What sort of fish was that ?" he asked weakly.

@mythvoiced