oddair-moved-blog

[oddair-moved-blog]

HELLO, HELLO, HELLO!!  finnick odair is MOVING!  that’s right.  i’m moving finn to MY MULTI MUSE ACCOUNT where i can better look after him!  so come on over and love on us again! 

[oddair-moved-blog]

Random starters: Fainting/unconscious edition

"Wake up... please wake up..."

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit faint..."

"N-no no! Stay with me now!"

"Keep breathing, you'll be fine."

"Oh! You're awake! You've been out for so long-!"

"I found you unconscious back there. What happened?"

"Hey, are you alright over there?!"

"We found you in a horrid state.. but we patched you up as best we could!"

"Don't try to move. Just get some rest, okay?"

"Oh, I guess you weren't dead after all."

"Hey! This one finally woke up! Get me a doctor!"

"Shh... take it easy, there's no rush. You were passed out for a long time, you see."

"Ow.. my aching-"

"Ugh... where...?"

"Help me.. someone..."

"I can't hold on... fading away.."

"What happened? Where is this-!"

"Gah! S-stay away from m-me! I don't know who you are!"

"Did.. did you save me back there? Thanks.. I guess."

"I was passed out for that long?!"

"Help me up.. please help me up..."

"What happened to me anyways? I feel so lightheaded..."

"Am I in a hospital? I wasn't here before.."

"Where is everyone? How long was I gone?!"

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STEVE.

Keeping his heart out of the way of doing thing was an ability Steve had mastered through the years.  What started at first as a way to keep his mother alive, it turned into something he couldn’t exactly name.  There were too many conflicted feelings. On one hand, he felt horrible about all this. He had known Finnick since he was just a fourteen year old boy. But on the other hand, he knew he was the best man for the job. Other person wouldn’t have mercy. At least now he knew Finnick wouldn’t hold a grudge against him.

“I’ll just take what it’s mine” He responded with a playful smirk as he swooped Finnick on his shoulder.  Any other human being would find the task impossible.  It was a piece of cake for Steve because he had been always into physical labor. Contrarily to career victors, he had developed his strong psyche in the vast woods.

The senator seemed to love the show Steve was giving to him. Steve decided to take advantage of the situation to give things a different angle. He carried the guy into the ample marble bathroom. There, he moved to the shower room. The golden decoration reflected the exuberance of the capitol.  He pressed the button and turned the cold water on. Then, he placed Finnick under the stream of water to elicit a reaction from the senator.

“Is that enough for you?” He told Finnick with a triumphant smile.

          the movement and inertia of the sudden upturning of his body over steve’s shoulder winds finnick for a moment.  it certainly makes him nauseous.  steve can’t know  (unless he guesses or does it all, too)  how many substances are coursing through finnick’s veins to keep him awake and aroused and sane and happy, and he can’t know how empty finnick’s stomach is after his last purge, and he can’t know how the sudden movements make the younger victor nearly retch. 

thankfully, finnick soon finds himself doused in a heavy stream of icy water  (his stylist and prep team won’t like cleaning this up before his next date),  grounding his mind and body back to the present, unmoving floor.  “that’s cheating,” he exclaims, overemphasizing the youth of his voice because that’s obviously what the senator wants from him this evening:  a naughty, mischievous boy. 

the senator finally interjects, his voice sterner and more aroused while his eyes are still full of laughter and amusement at the scene before him:  “oh, i don’t know if it’s enough, steve.  he’s not stripped yet.  i suppose you’ll need to punish him, hmm?” 

those words, a thinly-veiled command from their buyer and evening’s master, chill finnick more than the water, but he keeps his impish smile in place as he looks up at steve from the shower floor.  “do your worst, rogers.  if you can.” 

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SUNNY. 

        ❝ so, i could be taking you somewhere to kill you and throw you in a ditch, you wouldn’t even be able to do very much about it. ❞ morbid, yes, though she’s not exactly the murdering type. so he’s got nothing to worry about there at least. ❝ sunny. ❞ the brunette’s fingers tap against the wheel as she drives, it doesn’t take long for her to pull up to her loft. she’s not obnoxious enough to have a penthouse section, even if half her men insist it’d be more impressive. she takes notice of the bare minimum he gives her, but doesn’t say anything about it, yet. sunny steps out her car, walking into the building and immediately towards the elevator as she speaks, ❝ you’re going to need to shower. you look like shit. ❞ and she means that in the nicest way possible. 

          “well, you don’t look like too much of a murderer.  so i figure i’m safe with you.”  he winks teasingly.  just keep it all light.  that’s what all the other guys and girls told him when he first started:  keep it light, keep it where it almost feels like you’re not even a hooker, unless that’s what turns ‘em on.  “sunny...  you got a nice place here,” he says.  it’s not ostentatious or anything, but it’s definitely nicer than most places finn gets taken.  for starters, people live in lofts.  he never gets to go to people’s actual homes.  “whatever you want, gorgeous.”  he tries to hide how excited he is for that shower.  “you could even hop in there with me, you know,” he continues, winking and smirking again. 

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STEVE.

Every time he had to indulge in acts of debauchery,  the fine line between right and wrong became blurry. There was a barely imperceptible fear in his partner’s body language Steve noticed.  Yet, he ignored. What they wanted or felt was irrelevant. What it matters was to keep those he loved alive. He had already lost his sister. He couldn’t lose his mother.  Steve would not survive another blow.

“Scratch my back” He whispered in his ear as he released his grip just a little bit to give the other man some room of action. Yet, that didn’t mean he went soft on him.  He could get hurt. Yet, it didn’t matter anymore. Steve knew the other man’s smile hid the fact he was dead inside.

“Strip, now!” He growled giving the man a lustful look. Then, grabbing the other man by the waist, he brought him closer to his body. He kissed his with bruising passion trying to light a spark. It would make things less excruciating than they already were.

          the direction helps.  finnick doesn’t often play the submissive with other victors  (usually he’s with the girls, and usually the ‘patrons’ like to see him ride the pretty princesses),  but it’s always awful when he does.  he’s stronger than most boys  (he’s only eighteen, after all, and he’s still growing up, no matter what the capitolites think)  his age, but nowhere near as strong as steve.  this will be like being fucked by gloss  (painful and brutal),  no matter how decent steve actually is. 

finnick obeys steve’s assistance, and he notices the small bit of room he’s been given to move.  “it’s gonna be okay,” he whispers back as he runs his hands down the elder’s back.  because steve is being as nice as he can be right now, but that’s going to have to stop.  and finnick needs him to know that’s okay, that he won’t blame him or get upset with him for just doing his job -- even though his ‘job’ is doing finnick tonight. 

after the kiss, finnick grins in that impish, mischievous way he often does.  he knows they’re playing parts, and he knows he’s supposed to be the submissive tonight.  but he’ll make it interesting  (more painful for himself)  to keep the senator happy.  “and if i don’t wanna strip for you, big guy?  what are you gonna do about it?”  he makes no move to obey steve’s ordered growl, eliciting an amused and thrilled whistle and laugh from senator kane. 

[oddair-moved-blog]

And through the darkness of his memories, through the pain, despair and terror he’d tried to forget, a name echoed in his head.

Dorian Havilliard on Manon Blackbeak, Queen of Shadows (via blackbeak-manon)

[oddair-moved-blog]

YA’LL i want legit hooker finnick things in a regular modern verse.  like gimme things where finn is this kid who gets roped into FOR REALS prostitution on the streets of some city because of parental debts or homelessness or something like, getting into cars on corners and pretending he’s older than he is.  gimme things where he works his way up as he gets older and becomes an ‘escort’ for hire because he looks like a high-class prince when he’s all cleaned-up and charmed-up, even though he’s been a hooker since sixteen and never even finished high school.  like………..GIMME 

[oddair-moved-blog]

CLIENT.

     ❝ mhm. ❞ that’s all she offers him in response to his claim. her fingers spin her eyes around a long finger before she catches them and unlocks the doors. sunny’s head tilts, eyebrows raising at his words. ❝ it’s not like you care much, right? ❞ it’s a genuine question, one said with interest as she climbs into her car before she starts the engine while pulling out her box of cigarettes. she eyes him for a moment, deciding to flick it back into it’s place in her cupholder. ❝ what’s your name? ❞ another inquiry as she starts to drive once more. 

          “nah.”  he shakes his head, still smiling  (it’s more sincere now because he’s inside the car out of the wind and snow, and it’s heavenly)  at his ‘date.’  “not in my job description, pickin’ the location.  that’s all on you, gorgeous,” he says, trying to keep it all light and easy and fast.  the cigarette looks awful tempting, and he’s half-hoping she’ll offer him one  (maybe she will after they’re all done fucking, wherever and whenever that ends up happening)  when she puts the smokes away.  “finn,” he answers simply.  no last names, no extra information.  just the ‘bare bones,’ as always.  “and whaddya want me to call you?”  most people don’t tell him their real names, just some sort of nickname or title  (those are big turn-ons for some people)  they really like. 

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CLIENT.

    ❝ i can’t imagine you get many clients looking half dead. ❞ the words are said in her usual stoic manner, but sunny isn’t heartless. at least not completely. her chin tilts upwards staring up at the male for a moment before she fishes out her keys from her pocket. ❝ let’s go. ❞ she turns sharply over her shoulder and began her path towards her car. she wasn’t sleazy or desperate enough for a prostitute to be her company for anything sexual. but the guy clearly needed to at least be out the snow for a couple of hours or he’d be another dead body to scrape off the asphalt. 

          he lets out a shaky, relieved breath, that blinding grin trying its hardest to spread across his thin, wind-chapped, dirty face.  “i promise i’m better than i l-look right now,” he says, trying to joke through the shivers, trying to keep her interested  (he can’t actually count on his looks right now, and that’s scary)  because she’s about all he’s got right now.  he doesn’t even care who she is or what she does – though it’s not like he can ever afford to be picky – so he just follows her.  “so… we headin’ to your place or a hotel or…”  he gestures with a smirking nod towards her car.

[oddair-moved-blog]

Send (ノﾟДﾟ)八(ﾟДﾟ )ノ for a starter where both of our muses are children.

[oddair-moved-blog]

Big Sur, California // Ryan Millier

[oddair-moved-blog]

          “so... blight’s dead.”  it’s the first moment finnick and johanna have had alone since their respective parties and allies collided on the beach.  “i’m sorry.”  he’s not sure if johanna and blight were friends or anything, but they’d known each other for a long time, and they’d been from the same district, and that’s something.  “you doing alright?”  he still can’t process the loss of mags -- not yet, maybe not ever -- so he’s just focusing on anything and everything else. 

@hydrophobiic  //  starter call  |  accepting 

[oddair-moved-blog]

          he hasn’t eaten  (besides that half-empty bag of chips he managed to find on the subway)  in two days, and he’s more than desperate.  “i’ll do anything for twenty bucks.”  the snow’s got him shivering and half-sick, and he knows he’s looked better  (much better)  most days of his life, but he’s got to make this work -- he’s got to. 

@shrinemade  //  starter from this meme  |  accepting 

[oddair-moved-blog]

          there’s a cup of coffee  (extra sugar, of course)  in his hand, and he’s all jitters in the victors’ lounge.  this is the first time since his sixteenth birthday that he’s had nothing to do in the capitol with every second of his time.  he wants to enjoy it, since he’s sure there’s a very strong possibility that he’s going to die  (damn the plan, forget what plutarch says about the arena being catered to ensure finnick’s survival, and therefore katniss’s)  in a few days.  but he’s just… nervous.  he feels like he’s forgetting things -- things that will get him into all sorts of trouble.  and he also can’t stop thinking about mags in the district 4 suite and annie back home.  “can’t sleep either?”  blight hasn’t been around finnick too much since his victory  (he’s not one of the whores, the only ‘friends’ besides johanna that finnick has),  but they’re victors, and they’re both about to be tossed back into the arena, and that’s something.  “johanna still rampaging upstairs?”  he shoots the older man a calm, somewhat subdued, still slightly anxious smirk.  “she’s not real quiet when she gets pissed.”

@wasntmuch  //  starter call  |  accepting 

[oddair-moved-blog]

          “it’s gotta be nice to have someone who can’t say no.” 

@immortalxdreamers  //  starter from this meme  |  accepting 

[oddair-moved-blog]

[oddair-moved-blog]

          “i just… need a few more m-minutes… please…”  he doesn’t open his eyes, and he’s not sure he can yet.  his head is still throbbing and halfway-spinning from the earlier  (necessary)  drugs.  finnick wants to just keep sleeping.  “i kn-know… i’ve got more to d-do… tonight.”  his voice is quiet and slurred and shaky.  he needs to take or drink or snort something else  (more)  to be able to function, but he can barely move his arms, and he just wants to sleep.  “b-but... can it... w-wait a few more m-minutes?” 

@wisdomrisen  //  starter call  |  accepting