#worn letters > dash commentary

[dxwnxdusk]

"That's going to be a deep clean to get rid of the smell of peaches."

[mercurial-chuckles]

Grace’s Gazette: Volume 01

Merely mentioning your work could not soothe my soul; thus, I, Grace, present to you a celebration of wonderful authors in the form of Grace’s Gazettes! It is my solemn duty not to deprive readers of the delight in savoring these splendid tales afresh, so I have kept my commentary most modest. In no particular order, I shall add approximately eight stories per gazette, following the sequence of my reading. I implore you, dearest reader, to shower these authors with boundless admiration and affection.

Grace’s Gazette: The First Collection

My Dearest Writers,

As I pen this letter to you, I am filled with delight at the diverse stories that have graced my reading nook. You, dear authors, have each woven worlds that lift us into realms of mystery, love, and longing. Today, allow me to celebrate the splendor of some of your offerings, each one a gem in the treasure chest of Weaving Wonderful Writers. Let us step into these tales. Shall we?

~

Memory Served inked by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Dearest Niamh,

Oh, what an utterly enthralling and suspenseful tale you have spun in Memory Served! From the very first page, I was swept into the delicate tension of our heroine’s plight—awakening to a world half-remembered, tethered to a stranger by only fragments of what once was. The poignancy of her trust, her quiet hope despite her uncertainty, tugged at my heart with each choice she made in earnest faith. And how masterfully you have built this gradual unfolding of hidden memories—each one slipping through her dreams like faint whispers, urging her toward a truth yet out of reach. It is both haunting and beautifully wrought, leaving one on edge, breath held, yearning for her happiness but dreading what may yet come. Your tale is as alluring as it is mysterious, dear author, a journey that shall surely linger in my thoughts long after the last word.

~

Workout Motivation inked by @sergeantbarnessdoll

Dearest Shannon,

Heavens above! My heart quite galloped through every sinful, electrifying moment of your tale. To have our dashing Sergeant Barnes, no less, swept up in such passion within the walls—oh, the scandal! The way you crafted each glance and touch was simply intoxicating, like a spark that sets the senses ablaze. I daresay, I found myself blushing, my own breath quickened, as though I were right there, lost in that most thrilling of encounters. The intensity between them was palpable, undeniable, each movement a dance that left one both utterly flustered and completely captivated. Bravo, dear author! You’ve penned a scene that shall certainly haunt my thoughts (and perhaps quicken my own pulse) long into the evening. To the author of this tale, I tip my hat—this was a delight!

~

Heart Sweater inked by @buck-star

Dearest Sydney,

What a heartwarming delight this has been! A father softened entirely by his daughter’s small but endearing gift—a sweater, lovingly chosen by the hands of innocence and worn by a figure known to all as fierce and untouchable. This tender tale of Bucky, our seemingly impenetrable mafia figure, warmed my very soul. How artfully you have revealed the softness beneath his hardened exterior, showing us a glimpse of the man who treasures his family more than the world itself. To see him so willingly and lovingly wearing the gifts, undeterred by anyone’s gaze, speaks volumes. I am utterly charmed by this tale, dear author, and I shall revisit it whenever I seek solace in the purity of familial love.

~

The Alpha to the Rescue inked by @thezombieprostitute

Dearest Author,

Oh, what a delightfully tender and stirring tale! The way our noble Alpha strides in, so keenly attuned to every flicker of distress, speaks to the profound connection woven between him and our dear Omega. Indeed, there is something so wonderfully captivating in witnessing his fierce determination to bring comfort, even within the confines of the office—a place hardly conducive to such soft-hearted displays. And yet, he cares not for the eyes of others, but only for the well-being of his beloved. To be swept away from the toils of the day and carried homeward, cherished and safe—my heart could not help but flutter! Such devotion, so purely shown, leaves one breathless with admiration. Truly, dear author, you have captured the very essence of a bond that resonates deeply within the heart. Your words carry a warmth that lingers, my dear, and I thank you for this touching depiction of love’s embrace.

~

Temptation inked by @bucksangel

Dearest Angel,

Ah, what a most chilling and evocative tale you have woven! From the very first words, I felt the shadow of apprehension clutching tightly—a remarkable rendering of that unsettling sense of being watched, whispered about but unseen by those around. Your portrayal of our dear heroine’s rising paranoia was positively masterful, leaving me glancing over my own shoulder with every line! And then…dear Bucky enters, a figure both entrancing and enigmatic, his every word and gesture crafted with an alluring, almost haunting precision. As she surrendered to his undeniable charm, I found myself as captivated as she—unable to resist this man who seemed, indeed, to tread between shadow and light. How utterly sublime, this acceptance of love tempered by such exquisite danger! A work that will linger in my thoughts like a secret whispered in the dark. Bravo, dear author, for crafting such a tale of rare and intoxicating allure.

~

Revealed Secret by @lives-in-midgard        

Dearest Sara,

This story brought forth a smile and a sigh. How wonderfully satisfying it is when hearts that secretly yearn for one another finally meet! Mantis’s unexpected reveal, spilling a secret that was never meant to escape, serves as a charming, unexpected twist. And when Bucky’s confession follows—ah, it is as if the universe finally aligns for these two. To witness their shared joy, their long-hidden affection finally brought to light, is a triumph of love over secrecy. This tale, sweet as it is stirring, left me with a warm glow that lingers even now. Thank you, dear author, for sharing this tender, joyous journey.

~

Invisible inked by @americas-ass-writing

Dearest Jaqui,  

In this story, you have captured the aching loneliness of one who feels unseen despite the grand company she keeps. The reader’s quiet struggles, her pain laid bare, made me yearn for someone to notice her worth. Enter Steve, our kindest Captain, who sees her, cares for her, and quietly reveals the depths of his admiration. How I cheered when Bucky finally revealed his affections. This story, dear writer, is a singe to a yearning heart for value and worth, and to love that endures in the face of silence and solitude.

~

How to Impress a 21st-Century Girl inked by @brunchable

Dearest Jamie,

Oh, how delightful this tale is! It offers a lighthearted yet endearing look into Bucky’s foray into modern romance. His experience is the very essence of charm and humor. Watching him navigate this new world, determined yet slightly bewildered, is as heartwarming as it is amusing. Oh, what joy! To find a connection in such an unfamiliar world and feel that spark is simply enchanting. Tis a delightful and charming story! The way you captured the initial awkwardness of their date is simply adorable—those comical moments made my heart flutter! Bucky’s intense beauty paired with his smug yet endearing personality creates such an enchanting dynamic between them. And that kiss! It was the perfect culmination of tension and sweetness, leaving me breathless. Your writing beautifully balances humor and romance, making their connection feel so real and relatable. This brought a smile to my face, and for that, I thank you, dear author.

~

To each of you, my sincerest thanks. Your stories have captivated, delighted, and moved me beyond measure.

And, until the next time.

Grace, Your Reverent Reader

****

Phew! I put all my heart into writing & crafting this, and I’m extremely happy ❤️

If you want to catch up: Here are the links to the Columns & Grace’s Gazettes

Do you wanna be featured? Or maybe you know someone that I do not already have on the LIST. Feel free to drop by Grace’s Abode! I’m happy to help or clarify any doubts you’ve got! Unfortunately, I haven’t interacted with a lot of you, so if you are simply curious or, if you wanna be a part of the Weaving Wonderful Writers Society, please send me a message and I will be happy to share the invite to the society!

Tagging (hoping they���d work) some of the potential members of the Weaving Wonderful Writers Society! :)

Apparently, I can only tag 50 per post. So, I will tag the rest in the reblog.

In no particular order:

@elixirfromthestars | @darsynia | @kellyn1604 | @littlefreya | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @imyourbratzdoll | @winterarmyy | @espinosaurusrexex | @queen-of-the-avengers | @late-to-the-party-81 | @deliciousangelfestival | @fineanddandy | @samodivaa | @krirebr | @ramp-it-up | @veltana | @chase-your-dreams-away | @buckets-and-trees | @lanabuckybarnes | @delicatebarness | @drabblesandsnippets | @ozwriterchick | @shamrockqueen | @buckysforeverprincess | @anonymityisfunwriter | @flowersforbucky | @jobean12-blog | @saiyanprincessswanie | @sosa2imagines | @stargazingfangirl18 | @eulalielatibule | @caplanbuckybarnes | @sarahowritesostucky | @shellyshellshell | @stellar-solar-flare | @targaryenvampireslayer | @musette22 | @bigtreefest | @steviebbboi | @yenzys-lucky-charm | @angrythingstarlight |

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[slashedshadow]

하나 둘 셋

Tag Dump

[problematicwelshman]

PW Replies to Anons

Wow!  So many anons!  Like yesterday’s, they’re all on a similar topic, so I’m going to put them all in one post.  See you below the cut!

Before I delve into these, I want to tell you a story about a woman whose husband was driving her mad.  She would notice things and he’d tell her she didn’t.  She would do things, or not do things, and he would tell her she didn’t, or she did. “The lights are flickering!”  “No, they’re not.”  “I saw this letter!”  “No, you didn’t.”  Little by little she was worn down, afraid to trust her own thoughts, afraid she was going insane.  All because her husband told her that something she saw wasn’t real.

This, my loves and lovelies, is the plot of the movie “Gaslight” and is where we get the term “gaslighting.“  While the story itself is fictitious, gaslighting is real, insidious, quite often the tool of a bully and at the very least is manipulative. Keep that in mind.

That said, let's get in to the anons, shall we?

Anonymous said to problematicwelshman:

Wait did i miss something ? I’ve loved Michael for a long time but am just seeing these posts - what happened?

Anonymous said to problematicwelshman:

I'm sorry, but I've just seen one of your posts on my dash and I'm not that much into "sheendom" at the moment, so could you tell me what did Michael do that everyone is grossed out by him?

These two address the most recent poor behavior by the Welsh thespian.  I believe @profileranon​ has the best analysis, so I’ll wait while you go read her post:

https://profileranon.tumblr.com/post/626191837609295872/anonymous-said-hi-pa-looks-like-michael-has

Done?  Everybody back?  Excellent. For those TL;DR among us, Michael once again had a hissy on Twitter, mobilized his “army” (their words, not mine) and very publicly blocked three accounts in a short period of time, resulting in the traditional “swarming of the stans” to those accounts.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE.

Three hours and HUNDREDS of replies later, including several calling for the Sky TV announcer’s head on a platter, and the swarming of accounts who thought he was overreacting (”Hit him with a chair” ?!  Really?), he changed his story. Again- I refer you to ProfilerAnon:

https://profileranon.tumblr.com/post/626199473433001984/right-got-this-so-3-hours-later-uhmmright

This, my loves and lovelies, is gaslighting.  He is saying that what his fans saw, his actual hurt/anger at what the Sky TV person said, and their subsequent actions, were wrong. That despite HUNDREDS of replies from people all thinking he was upset, he really wasn’t, hahaha, it’s a joke can’t you all take a joke.  Read the language.  “I hope it’s obvious…”  “It was very funny and the idea of me taking umbrage at it rather tickled me also.”  He knows it wasn’t obvious, and he knows very few people took it as such, but he is trying to manipulate the story, the fans, and their very real, very obvious reactions.  By phrasing it as he did, he makes people doubt their feelings- Was my first reaction wrong?  Was I supposed to find it funny?  It didn’t seem funny, maybe I was wrong?  Textbook gaslighter behavior.  (edited 8/14 from “textbook gaslighting”)  

------

Next we have an Anna Anon:

Anonymous said to problematicwelshman:

Sorry, what's wrong with Michael and AL? I didn't get it. I mean, I can def say what's wrong with them, but more about Anna, who was given so much credit and even an appearance on BBC One after becoming the mother of Michael Sheen's child... but I didn't really get what's wrong with Michael, except that he is a bit of an idiot? 

Oh Anon.  You really need to work on your research.  There have been tons of things written about her, and by many different sources.

Here are a few to get you started:

https://problematicwelshman.tumblr.com/post/626080164174069761/more-witty-commentary-from-anna-in-which-she

https://problematicwelshman.tumblr.com/post/625900659914473472/i-used-to-be-a-quiet-ms-stan-and-i-followed-all

https://profileranon.tumblr.com/post/625911322397261824/from-that-last-anon-it-got-me-curious-when-did

------

And then we’re back to the sob stories.

Anonymous said to problematicwelshman:

What do you mean by "doesn't give a shit about you unless you have a sob story"? I mean... he doesn't have time for everyone, that's for sure, but why are you so harash about it? I'm sorry, since I'm not following him 24/7 atm, so I may not know something he's done recently... And if there's something that does make him look bad, I'd be glad if you were so kind to enlighten me on it.

Anon, I totally agree.  He doesn’t have time for everyone.  We don’t expect him to have time for everyone, do we?  And therein lies a problem.  This time I’m going to direct you to this blog for the hot take, with an assist from ProfilerAnon in the 2nd:

https://problematicwelshman.tumblr.com/post/625473127491780608/not-everyones-an-angel

https://problematicwelshman.tumblr.com/post/625475876031758336/hello-pa-im-an-ms-fan-in-twitter-just-wanted-to

Pay attention to this part: “A response or a like from Michael Sheen has become currency, with people doing all sorts of underhanded things to gather it.  What the hell is wrong with people who are so desperate for attention that they’d fake a sob story and tag a celebrity?  I’ve seen non-Sheendom Sheen fans joke that the only thing they need to get his attention is a heart in their Twitter name and a sad tale.  People are noticing.”

------

And one final anon, by a different person than the other 4 in this thread (I see you, anonymous person):

Anonymous said to problematicwelshman:

Hope one day everyone in 'sheendom' will understand that he uses his fans for his own purposes and how manipulative he is. And yeah I hope one day they all will cancel him. He really deserves it no matter how much he has already given for charity. I don't believe that the man who 'loves humanity' could bully someone wherever.

From your keyboard to stans’ brains, Anon. I’m pretty sure they know but aren’t acknowledging it.  He’s shown that he’s petty and retaliatory to those who cross him on the bird app, and they don’t want to be next on the chopping block.  

So there you have it, folks. PW responds to anons.

[ellanainthetardis]

Caesar is thrilled to welcome you to the interviews ;)

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 24 : Beautiful Chaos

For the hundredth time that day, Haymitch wished the prep team had been fired along with Madam Felindra.

Katniss’ prep team was new too but she had declared they weren’t so bad. His? He was ready to tear the hair off his scalp.

Coralus, the one who seemed to be in charge – or who liked to act like he was, at least – didn’t seem to be able to shut up. The man kept a running commentary during the entire very long and very boring prepping session.

Haymitch had forgotten how annoying getting ready for the interviews was.

As a mentor, he had been expected to show a certain level of… prepping but nothing to that extent.

His stubble had been trimmed into something that looked natural but that was far more precise than anything he could have managed by himself. They had cut his hair just enough that it was still long but that it wouldn’t be a bother in the arena. They rubbed lotion after lotion on his face. They had pampered him with deodorant and cologne. They had filed his nails.

He was ready to scream by the time Harwyn showed up, followed by a woman in her thirties – at least Haymitch thought she was, it was always difficult to tell with Capitols – who was carrying two zipped up garment bags.

Haymitch was only wearing underwear – new ones who wouldn’t show under whatever the stylist had planned for him because they were made of a new fabric and whatever, he hadn’t listened to the entire speech Coralus had given him – and the woman’s gaze darted down before coming back up again but she didn’t say anything. She hung one of the bags on the open door of the wardrobe.

“Thank you, Maya.” the old stylist said, a little impatiently. He was leaning hard on the walking stick that, Haymitch noticed, was sporting a golden gemstone on top today. He briefly wondered if he had identical sticks with different gemstones or if it was removable – the things one wondered about after hours of being prepped… “Give Effie her dress and return to the girl, will you?”

He hadn’t been aware Effie was getting a dress too.

Harwyn shot the prep team a hard look and they immediately made themselves scarce, all the while watching him with big incredulous eyes, as if they couldn’t believe the old man was really there. As soon as the three annoying Capitols had left, Haymitch breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I trust you can get dressed without their help?” the stylist mocked without heat. “A few models cannot manage, mind you, but you seem to have a brain in that head of yours.”

“I think I can deal.” he snorted. “How’s Katniss doing? Thought you’d be her main stylist.”

He had fully expected to deal with the assistant Harwyn had mentioned.

“I thought she would be more comfortable with Maya.” the Capitol offered, carefully unzipping the garment bag. “Young women who are not used to it are often sheepish that way. Despite the fact that I always enjoyed this sort of view better.”

He hesitated a little but decided that it was a mostly innocent gibe and, so, he let it drop.

The walking stick, it quickly turned out, wasn’t as decorative as Haymitch had first believed. The man rested his weight on it as he struggled to brush the bag off the suit but when Haymitch offered to help, he was treated to a glare. He was reminded of Mags, who always hated it when anyone tried to do something for her, so he stepped back with both hands lifted in an apologizing gesture.

The suit was… Well, perfect was maybe too strong a word. But compared to what he had been forced to wear over the years… It was good. Very good.

It was a three pieces suit. Classic and sober enough. The waistcoat was embroidered with discrete golden spirals that, on a closer look, were shaped like flames. It wouldn’t show on TV, he figured, but the gold would catch the light here and there. There were no buttons on the black jacket, it was probably meant to be worn open. The pants would be tight, tighter than anything he was used to, but he knew the game here. They were trying to sell him. And, right now, the Capitol was very sold on his body so…

“Katniss’ dress is red and gold.” Harwyn told him as he inspected the suit. “I tried to keep the girl on fire idea in mind without making it too similar. We do not want to bore the audience, do we?” The stylist chuckled at his own joke. “She seemed to like the dress, in any case.”

“That’s…” he hesitated. “… really better than I expected.”

“It is particularly good, isn’t it?” the Capitol hummed, brushing his hand against the jacket. “I cannot take all the credit. Effie designed most of it. I corrected a few things, added a little personal touch… But it is based on her sketches. She insisted she knew what you would like. I did not dispute that.”

There was unmistakable fondness in the man’s voice and Haymitch tried to sound casual as he pulled on the far too tight pants. He had to jump a little up and down to get them past his thighs.

“You like her.” he observed. “Effie.”

“Like her?” Harwyn frowned. “I love her. She is right, you know, she was always my favorite… Ruthless that one… But with a heart of gold. A walking paradox. And such beauty…”

He zipped the pants up and tried to catch his reflection on the full length mirror on the wardrobe door. He made a face when he realized just how tightly they hugged his skin. No wonder the prep team had been going on and on about underwear that wouldn’t show. He tried to shift everything a little but it was all squashed down there and there was nothing to do about that.

The shirt and the waistcoat were more comfortable, more like the kind of stuff he favored when he was in the city – Effie’s doing, he was sure.

“She’s gonna need a friend.” he said flatly, buttoning the waistcoat up and not meeting the old man’s eyes. “After.”

In the letter he had passed to her, he had asked Alina to keep an eye on the kids.

He had nobody to leave Effie to.

Harwyn brushed imaginary lint off his shoulders. An answer to his not quite question might have come if the bedroom’s door hadn’t opened right then.

Effie looked…

He had seen her in a lot of outfits along the years but that one… His jaw might have dropped a little.

It looked like she was wearing liquid gold. The dress was see-through in places but not indecent at all, it shimmered under the lights, rippled almost… It was long, the neckline was plunging, kept in place at the waist by a belt of pure solid gold. All the light fragile looking fabric gathered around her shoulders to fall behind her in a translucent golden train. It pooled around her feet…

She was blinding.

Radiant.

A small sun in his bedroom.

The only contrast with the gold on her dress and her wig were the pure diamonds she was wearing around her neck and wrists and on her ears. The iris was almost hidden by a particularly huge ring and he wondered if it was on purpose.

Her make-up was hard. Her eyes were particularly dark, heavy looking butterflies with small gemstones for wings fleeing from her fake eyelashes every time she batted her eyelids. The eyeshadow was black as coal. Whatever she had done to her face, her features were sharp. The lipstick a crimson red so deep it almost looked black.

He had always thought fashion was her own personal brand of battle armor but right then… Right then she looked ready to slay.

She looked like a pissed off goddess.

He hastily turned his gaze away because the pants were tight and the sight was turning him on.

“Mr Harwyn, you really should not have!” she exclaimed with a bright smile, her eyes twinkling in obvious pleasure. Her tone was in total contrast with her wrathful looks.

“Nonsense.” the stylist dismissed, abandoning Haymitch to fuss over her outfit. He righted the sleeve, adjusted the diamond necklace around her neck, not so gently nudged her chin higher… “You look as stunning as ever, child. Do you like it?”

“Do I…” she scoffed, twirling once like a little girl. “Sir, it is a masterpiece! And I saw Katniss’ dress… I cannot thank you enough. Truly you went beyond anything I could have hoped and…”

She hastily blinked her emotion away and leaned in to press a kiss on the old man’s cheek. It seemed to take the stylist aback but he hastily patted her hand and made an escape, clearly uncomfortable with such displays.

As soon as he was gone, Effie’s attention snapped to him and she purred. “Aren’t you dashing…”

“Took you long enough to notice.” he snorted, a smirk on his lips. “No tie?”

He said it almost hopefully because he hated being constricted by ties but she always insisted on forcing one around his neck and on trapping him in it with some flourishing knots he could never undo by himself – or without a pair of scissors.

“Ties do not go hand in hand with a bad boy attitude.” she hummed, inspecting him with attention. She seemed to like what she was seeing because she flashed him a bright smile. “Perfect.”

“Hope so ‘cause I got a manicure.” he grumbled, showing his poor abused hand.

She laughed but didn’t sympathize.

Her hand rested on his chest under the feeble excuse of chasing imaginary creases away. Her fingers clenched a little on the fabric. Her nails were painted gold too, with gemstones and white spirals here and there.

Her breathing was regular but a touch too loud, as if she was making a big effort to remain collected. He wondered how much of her make-up was from the prep team she had no doubt snatched from somewhere like always on interviews day and how much was from her.

He didn’t try to kiss her. She wouldn’t welcome it. Or maybe she would and then accuse him of ruining her whole look and making them all late.

There would be time for kissing later.

He covered her hand with his but she didn’t look up to meet his eyes. It was only when she swallowed with obvious difficulties that he understood what she was doing. Feeling his heartbeat.

“In another life…” she whispered eventually. “In another life, we… We would have been happy, Haymitch. So happy everyone would have been jealous of us. I would have driven you mad and you would have made me crazy. Nobody would have understood how we could work. But we would have. We would have. It would have been a perfect mess. A beautiful chaos.”

“Beautiful chaos.” he repeated, snorting gently. “Sounds like you.”

She smiled but it was hollow. “We should go. We do not want to be late for the big, big, big event!”

“Would be a shame for you to miss the red carpet.” he teased. “You’re gonna put them all to shame.”

She perked up a little at that.

They met everyone in the hall. Clearly, the stylist had stuck to the gold team theme.

Katniss’ dress was very different from anything Cinna would have done but it suited her all the same. It wasn’t too extravagant. It was a dark red, it hugged her chest and pooled down to the floor in the same fashion Effie’s dress did. There was a large golden belt that ran around her stomach and spiraled up to hug the side of her breasts and follow the lines of her collarbone. The gold seemed solid and it made it look like an oddly shaped armor. She looked strong. Determined.

Peeta’s suit was more classic but gold embroideries on the lapels of the jacket marked him as a member of the team too.

Even the stylists were marked as such. Harwyn had the golden gemstone on his walking stick and the other woman, Maya, was wearing gold jewelry and shoes.

“Let’s do this!” Effie declared cheerfully, pushing the elevator button.

The cheerfulness was over the top and it became franticness once they had all crammed together in the elevator. She let out a flow of unnecessary advices and recommendations that made it almost a relief when he and Katniss escaped to join the other victors.

“Remember.” she begged them as Peeta unsuccessfully tried to drag her to where the escorts and mentors were supposed to play nice for the cameras. “Eyes bright. Chins up. Smiles on.”

He had heard that tune often enough over the years but he nodded all the same if only to appease her. He grabbed her arms to make her stop fussing over the girl’s dress and stared straight at her. He didn’t quite say it out loud but she got the message, nodded once and then followed Peeta.

Keep it together, he hadn’t said. Just a little bit longer, he thought. Just a little bit longer and it would all be over and she would be free to collapse.  

Tributes traditionally waited in the huge room backstage until they were called on stage but this was a Quell and the setting would be different. They would all sit in the background while Caesar conducted his interviews. It meant more than an hour offered to the audience’s eyes and Haymitch wasn’t exactly thrilled about that.

“I can’t wait for this part to be over.” Katniss sighed.

The good-natured friendship was already fading and nobody was really mixing. District partners stayed close to each other and covertly studied everyone else, looking for a weakness or… something.

It gave him a good idea of how it would be like in the arena.

“Can’t say I’m impatient for the next one to start.” he muttered.

Katniss wrinkled her nose a little but didn’t object.

For a while, it was chaos. Staff members lined them up in correct order and gave them precise instructions as to what to do and where to sit. They were reminded to smile and wave but begged not to take the wrong seat.

There were more instructions too. How to behave for the cameras, how to act… More than one victor grumbled and Haymitch himself rolled his eyes. They knew what to do on a TV set. They had been doing it for decades for some of them.

Still, the staff member in charge wouldn’t relent. He talked and talked and talked…

Haymitch was at the rear and he thought it would be a long night.

It was almost half an hour before the show started. They couldn’t really hear anything, mostly an echo of what Caesar was saying and the audience’s reaction. There were small screens everywhere backstage though and Haymitch stared at one of them, having watched enough interviews to know what was being said.

The host would greet the audience with a few jokes, warm them up… Then remind them what Games it was, as if they could forget… He would encourage sponsors to get in contact with District teams as soon as the cannon would mark the launch the next day… He would encourage everyone to bet on their favorite…

Caesar’s voice faintly reached their ears when he joyfully asked the audience to welcome their tributes but it was the staff member with a headset who started whispering a frantic “Go, go, go.”.

Cashmere strolled on stage like she owned the place under thunderous applause, followed by everyone else.

Woof took the wrong seat and it derailed everything to the staff member’s dismay and annoyance but Caesar laughed it off and actually showed the old man to his proper chair and everything went back on track.

The interviews felt endless.

Sitting there, listening to Katniss’ increasing sighs and to whatever the others were babbling about…

It was plain to see Caesar had received instructions from other District teams to orient the conversations on certain subjects that would paint the tributes in a good light. Some of them, like Cashmere and Johanna, didn’t even try to hide just how annoyed they were by the Quell but they were a minority and nobody dared openly call it into question. The great majority had understood antagonizing the Gamemakers wouldn’t be a smart plan and they were playing nice.

It was emotional though.

The audience was on the edge of their seat.

Usually, Capitols grew bored long before they reached Eight but, that year, they awaited the next tribute eagerly. They couldn’t get enough of the melodrama.

Woof was painful to watch. The man was so obviously batty, lost and distressed that murmurs rose in the audience. Caesar did his best, he truly did. He was kind and often answered the very question he had asked because the old man was in no state to do it. Victors started shuffling in their seats when Woof’s eyes started shining with panicked tears.

Haymitch’s jaw clenched.

Woof Casino was senile.

And that made him dead meat.

And it was sad.

Alegra Misc, from Nine, made an ill-thought attempt at questioning how the Capitol could send a once revered victor into an arena when he was so obviously not in possession of his mental faculties. She was young and angry and it was very noble but it would probably mean her death warrant.

Her fellow tribute was tamer. Ten’s victors were boring.

Seeder was… unhopeful.

Chaff’s funny act and his easy banter with the host would be tough to follow. Haymitch worried for a moment but he was wrong to.

When Katniss joined Caesar center stage, the clapping and cheering was so loud and lasted so long half her time was gone before she could even get a word in. She was concise but efficient. She swore she would try to win to be reunited with Peeta – and she sounded sincere for once. She looked fierce. No longer the young girl in love they had spent months carefully crafting but a woman robbed from her lover. She looked powerful. The victor this Quell deserved. Caesar commiserated on her lack of luck, she admitted she would have liked the opportunity to marry Peeta but she was thankful for the time they had shared… The audience was in tears…

Nobody really cared about what he had to say. Not after one half of the star-crossed lovers had just broken their hearts.

Still, he got a few laughs and a decent enough amount of clapping amongst the sniffing and calls for Katniss’ name.

They all stood  up when Panem’s anthem rang.

Katniss’ hand slid into his but they were the only ones holding hands.

He looked around and came to a conclusion.

The truce was over.

It was war, now.

An: in case you’re wondering here is the ref I used for Katniss dress:

And here was Effie’s

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Calorn AU Part 1 - Thieves

Note: This is a Red Queen Retelling in an AU. Things are a little more different from canon.

Part 2

Part 3

Kilorn POV

The good thing was that I would probably never have to gut a fish again.

Maybe I would even see Shade at the choke. I smiled sadly at the thought at him. Mare had read his letter to me, just hours ago and I had marvelled at his ability to make jokes even though he was drafted for this useless war. He was way to clever for that, and he would have deserved to find an apprenticeship here in the Stilts. At least Shade had managed to get a job as an aide instead of serving as a human target.

Thinking of Shade was only a distraction from the truth, that my master was dead, that I had no job while I was old enough for conscription. I had only days before the officials would notice and come to drag me away, less if master's daughter decided to report me just because she wanted me out of her father's house sooner. It had been a poor replacement of a home anyway.

Mare told me that she had a plan and that she would talk to Will Whistle, the receiver of her stolen goods. He had to know a way out of conscription, she claimed. She'd mentioned this idea before, as on option fo herself, but my current trouble had awakened her fervour. I smiled at her efforts. I doubted Mare's conviction that the choke would be her death. She was much too nimble and devious to meet a quick end. The Barrows were a family of survivors, people who stuck together. I was jealous of them. Mare said often that she felt like an outsider among them, like she wasn't good enough. As if they were bothered by her. They were family, even for me.

Mare sidled through the shadows to meet with me. Her aisle was sneaky for everyone else, but I always knew when she approached me. I still played surprised and gasped. She grinned but It was forced. She patter my shoulder and sat down next to me.

"Plan is up. I met with someone who will get us away," she said smugly.

I frowned her tone. "How?" I asked.

"Well, there is this woman - "

"Not Whistle?"

Mare shrugged. "She knew what she was talking about, and she only asked a - a recompense."

"What kind of - "

"Don't worry," Mare interrupted me. "I'll get it for us tomorrow. And then we're off to see the world, Kilorn."

I wasn't convinced by her optimism.

Mare didn't get the coins. She hadn't even told me how much it would have been, not until I saw what our plan had cost us. Mare had persuaded Gisa to bring her into Summerton, to steal from Silvers as she hadn't had the chance for such an heist before. But she didn't get it today either. Some terrorist group, the Scarlet Guard it was called, had leaked a video claiming responsibility for an assault on the capital. But whatever they'd done, the news of rebellion had let all hell break lose in Summerton.

The Stilts didn't have another topic to talk about. Though people hardly dared to speak of this Guard, the many relatives and friends working in Summerton during the turmoil were enough to worry about.

I went to the Barrows once I'd heard of the trouble, to check on them. And I was right to worry, Mare and Gisa were victims of the enraged Silvers: Gisa's sewing had been injured by a gunshot. I didn't need to ask how, I grasped it the moment I saw first Mare and then Gisa, looking up to me as her mother took care of the ruin of her hand. I noticed the shame on Mare's face, the same I had to be showing, and after a rushed apology, I dashed off and Mare followed me. Together, we ran away from our guilt. Eventually, we stopped, panting, once we'd left the Stilts behind us. The road to Summerton lay before us, stretching into the twilight. I imagined a trail of blood flowing down the path.

Mare looked ahead, to the dim lights of the Silver town. "I thought I'd get the money in an hour, even from Silvers. Especially from them," she said scowling. "But this Scarlet Guard broadcast their video just when I've arrived in town and the mayhem started. Against us, of course. There was no way to steal anything in that uproar. I found Gisa again and told her as much. But she ... " her voice faltered. "Gisa tried anyway, that stubborn girl. On the first Silver she saw, and of course she was caught."

Tears were trickling down Mare's cheeks which she didn't even notice and I put my arm over her shoulders. But was I allowed to comfort her? She – and Gisa – had done this for me. Gisa had her future destroyed for me. If only she wouldn't care so much about me, feelings I was unable to return, not like that. I should've told her, long ago. Maybe then, she would've been too angry at me to –

Mare made a sound between a sob and a laugh. "That bitch Farley – she couldn't have expected me to get that much money, certainly not 2000 crowns in two days," Mare muttered and I gasped. That much, a sum hardly imaginable for me. I grabbed her shoulder tighter and Mare leaned her head against me.

"Don't," I whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to do this for me, I'll manage," I went on.

"Kilorn ..."

I turned around. "It's okay, Mare. I'm okay." I forced a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow. But you better take care of Gisa now, don't you?" Then I ran off to Summerton, leaving Mare standing in the dusk. I didn't look back.

Despite the mayhem on this day, the Silvers remained as pretentious as ever. They paraded the streets in their fineries studded with gemstones. How I desired to rip those off them, but I knew better. The tricks of thievery Mare had shown me, the unwilling student, from time to time could only help me so much and honestly, I didn't dare. I didn't resent Mare for being a thief, but that didn't mean I could bring myself to do so myself.

But the temptation stayed. I saw some Silver sitting in cafés and inns, drinking and prattling and paying not an inkling of attention to their bags on the chairs next to them. It would be easy to pass them, grab a bag, remove something valuable and let it drop again. I shook my head. Why was I even thinking of this? How could this help me? Even if I got away with stealing from Silvers, which was unlikely, I would still be conscripted and a boy who couldn't even read had no hope of getting a position that kept him alive.

One of the Silver women I'd glared at looked up to me. She seemed less like a person and more like a predator. I moved to run, without looking around me. So I crashed into someone else who was just leaving an inn. We tumbled down.

As I sat up, I saw the man's purse lying next to my hand and I grabbed it. "Sorry," I uttered, taking in the sight of the young man.

I couldn't even tell if he was Red or Silver in the pale moonlight. His clothes were better than anything worn in the Stilts, fine fabrics embroidered with sigils or Silver house colours or something.

I let my hand with the purse fall to my side. Silver or lackey, he was certainly able to spare those coins. The Barrows would need these now, with Gisa injured and unable to work, probably never again.

I hesitated a moment too long before I turned with an "evening, sir," ready to run once I'd passed the corner. But then I heard the man bark. "Wait!"

I walked on, but he grabbed my arm - the arm that held his purse.

Idiot, Kilorn Warren. You're such an idiot.

He pulled me over to face him. We were of equal height and our eyes locked. His hand felt way too hot.

"Thief," he hissed.

"Obviously," I said, for a moment without any remorse. I let the purse drop to the ground with a clink, so that I could dash off as he bent down to retrieve it in surprise. Before I was ten feet away, he called again, even more agitated, "wait!"

For some bleeding reason, I obeyed. The man was still kneeling before me on the ground, the purse lying open in his hands. I stared at the huge sum. Dozens of tetrarchs. He fumbled for a moment and chose one coin to throw at me.

"That should be more than enough to tide you over," he said.

I spun the coin in my hand, not believing what was happening. A damn whole tetrarch. This was the third moment I should just have run away as fast as I could, but instead I looked at the man - boy - in front of me. He wasn't much older than me, with silky black hair and almost orange eyes, which I noticed as the lantern shone on his face. He was well-muscled too, even more visible in his crouched position.

"Don't you want to rise up some time?" I blurted out, then cleared my throat. I felt like I was blushing. "I mean thank you. But why?"

He shrugged, sorted the rest of his coins before he finally stood up. "You need it more than me."

I frowned. "I can't take this - no, stop it. I mean, why are you so generous? I should ..." What was I doing? This was what I wanted, some money and no trouble. But this stranger made me curious, more than that. I didn't want to, well, leave him so soon.

I cleared my throat again. "How about you spent some more this these spectacular coins to get us some drinks?" I proposed, to my own surprise, and pointed to another inn, a better one that he'd just left.

He paled, and laughed after a second and for one moment, I forgot everything what was coming for me and laughed with him.

"I'm Cal," he said and offered his hand. I took it.

"Kilorn Warren. Nice to meet you, Cal."

Commentary:

Are you satisfied @lilyharvord ?

I think this is a good ending, but I might come back to the events of the evening in the next part. I plan four parts so far. I hope you like this. Gay as fuck crackship fun.

I'd like your ideas about who to ship Mare with, and single is an option too, of course.

[dxwnxdusk]

"The way I look at Wukong?"

"Sure. How about the way I hope he chokes on all the guilt he has hiding behind that plated gold mask he likes to wear. How about he rots in that glorious mountain of his, I can't wait to see the looks on everyone when they realize who the true monster is once again. Nezha's appearance is tame compared to that nightmare."

[dxwnxdusk]

"Either get it over with or get the fuck off my lawn."

[dxwnxdusk]

Don't you dare burn the fucking mountain again. He won't stand for it.

[dxwnxdusk]

".....when the fuck did you get lipstick?"

[dxwnxdusk]

"If you two fight. I'm killing myself so in the end you have another death on your shoulders."

[dxwnxdusk]

How the fuck is he supposed to get the kid?

[dxwnxdusk]

"Buddha's tits. Either kiss. Have fun. Or fight. Quit drawing it out."

[dxwnxdusk]

It works for him if a wukong isn't paying attention. Means he doesn't have to explain...why there's a few missing people and demons.

[dxwnxdusk]

"You wish you could claim that strike did kill me."