#I don’t care about most hunger games content

[stxrslut]

these past days have driven you crazy. the thought of the games being only tomorrow makes it impossible to sleep. you need something, some sort of thrill, something erotic even, to make you forget. you know exactly who to go to for that.

content : hunger games au. reader has lots of complicated feelings. intense sex. knife play. blood. degradation. rafe talks about killing reader. minimal aftercare.

when he opens the door he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. you wouldn’t expect anything more, it’s 11pm at night and you hadn’t let him know you were coming.

“what happened?” he frowns, letting you in. you walk right up to him, getting in his space, though he doesn’t seem to mind too much.

“remember what you said about distractions…” you ask, looking up at him and placing a hand on his bare chest, “and remember… remember how you offered to show me.. that you could help me be distracted?”

he looks down at you, lips parted in genuine surprise, “yeah. yeah I remember.. you uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “you want that?”

you nod, “yeah…” you speak quietly, slowing standing up on your toes to reach near his lips, “I want that.”

he leans down to meet you, beginning a heated kiss that leads you over to his bed. he pulls on the straps of your nightdress to remove it, letting you fall back once it’s off.

“shit… gonna make you all mine..”

two rounds later, you’re not satisfied. all you’ve been doing is whining for more, something even more.

you want something thrilling, something scary and erotic all at the same time. you’re not getting it, and it’s most definitely not distracting you.

“no— need somethin’ else.. need more,” you whine, pushing rafe away and rolling over grumpily. you know it’s rude. to turn up in his room asking for sex only to not accept what he can give you.

you hear him get off the bed, you’re expecting him to kick you out any second now. you hear a rummaging through some drawers and then he’s walking back towards you.

you’re about to sit up to leave when you feel the sudden cold of a blade on your skin. you shiver, looking down to see a sharp, inevitably murderous knife pressed to your collarbone.

“you wanna fuckin’ whine?” his tone is mean now. he flips you over so that he’s standing over you, blade now on your neck.

you moan involuntarily, this is what you’d wanted. this is the thrill you’d been seeking. the games are all that is on your mind, but now in a good way, a sick and twisted way, but good nonetheless.

he chuckles, “shit.” a smirk is plastered on his face now as he looms the weapon over you, “this is what you wanted? this is the more you’ve been cryin’ for?”

you nod frantically, arching your back with a loud moan, “yes— yes this is what I wanted— want— want—”

“what? want me to stab you? want me to kill you?” he breathes out as he begins to lign himself up you you once again, “or you just want me to fuck you like I’m gonna?”

“mmh— please— please,” you moan, letting out a little shocked yet still pleasured whimper when the knife nicks the skin on your upper chest, undoubtedly drawing blood.

he begins to move, fucking your already sensitive hole with a new force, a new venom. driven by, you’re sure, exactly the same feelings you’re having.

“you’re sick,” he seethes, not slowing his turning or relaxing his grip on the knife as he speaks, “this shit turns you on? fuckin’ sick.” he chuckles breathily when all you do in response is moan once more, “don’t even care do you? just another fuckin’ desperate slut. thought you were innocent y’know… thought I was gonna have to show you how to do this.”

“mmh— m’gonna.. rafe… I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as an orgasm crashes down onto you. a white hot pleasure in your core as you writhe around.

the knife remains held to your neck as rafe spills a hot load into you. his hand shakes, pushing it closer, and inciting even more fear into you.

not even five minutes later he’s dressed again, standing over you. he runs the tip of the blade over your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you gotta go now.” he murmurs, voice deep and almost intimidating, “don’t want to make it harder to kill you tomorrow.. I still got a game to win.”

walking down the hallway with your legs shaking, you think. you think that might be the most horrible thing you’ve ever done, and also the most erotic. you also think, that it was exactly what you needed.

[bonesandchalamet]

in this world, it’s just us — Finnick odair

masterlist | pairing: Finnick odair x reader

summary: in a world where hunger games don’t exist anymore it’s just you and Finnick

warnings: fluff

a/n: finally writing for finnick 🤭

you can hear his breath escape his lips, it’s faint, but it’s all that matters. he’s alive in your arms and in your bedroom.

nights were never the same, consisting of some form of him muttering incoherent words, legs thrashing, and thick sweat glistening against the sheets. the hunger games haunt him, even in a world where he’s safe.

there’s no president snow, there’s no more kids being hunted by others. the odds were in everyone’s favor, and people could sleep well again. except those in their respected districts victors villages.

the soft grunt that escapes his lips indicates he’s awake now. he rolls carefully onto his side, almost like he doesn’t want wake you, but you’ve been awake for some time. reflecting on what the nights could’ve been if finnick never was picked at such a young age.

“you’re doing it again.” he mutters, you feel him shift closer to you, his warm clammy skin pressed against yours, “you’re thinking about the if’s.”

he tsk’s you, and yanks the covers off your bodies to reveal the cool air of the house. it feels nice, after tossing and turning in the heat trapped sheets, you allow yourself to stretch out against the mattress and watch finnick rise for the day.

no day was ever the same, but finnick needed a new task everyday, or else he’d go insane. he needed to occupy himself from the loss and maybe even the ache. you never knew, he was a closed book about his experiences.

you watch him gather around to fish, a typical morning routine despite the overflowing amount of food in your house. you never objected or asked him not to go, it was the one thing finnick enjoyed and he could now do so freely. who were you to stop him?

“can I join you?” the words slip your mouth without a second guess, and he’s stopping in his tracks. you’ve never taken up much of an interest in fishing, not since you didn’t have to do so anymore, but you loathed sitting around waiting for him to return. plus, it gave you something to do as well.

“you better hurry.”

scurrying out of bed, you find yourself rushing with the sunrise and finnicks personal clock, but by the time you’re down by the water, no one else is even there and the sun is just starting to rise.

“what’s the plan?” you ask, turning to face him he’s got a trident in his hand, his typical choice of weapon that somehow made it back to district four along with him.

“we hunt, we go home, and then we eat.” he says offering a small smile before moving carefully and slowly into the water. he moves with such precision, careful not to alarm the fish. any movement and they’ll scatter along. you watch him hunt for awhile until it’s your turn, you don’t come up as lucky as he does, but he still applauds the three fish you killed.

“now we eat and save some for dinner.” he smiles, content with the couple hours of work done. without telling, it’s most likely noon and your stomach was reminding you of the lack of food in your stomach.

the hike home doesn’t take long and Finnick is cooking while you shower. the warm water trickles down your back, soothing away the morning worries. you take longer than you normally do, just to enjoy the silence your mind finally gives you before turning off the water.

emerging from the shower, he’s leaning in the doorway. a cocky smile against his lips that if it weren’t for his beauty, you’d attempt anyway to erase it.

“you think about me in there?”

“never in a million years would I think about you in my shower.” you pick up a soft towel, running the fabric all across your body and through the ends of your hair. out the corner of your eye, you can still see that smile. the smile that every girl falls for when finnick would enter a room. he’s easy to like, bright eyes, beautiful smile, golden blond hair, and an ego so big sometimes it’s adorable, other times? not so much.

“you’re awful at lying. it’s actually one of your worst traits.”

“and you’ve got an awfully big ego, it’s one of your worst traits.” you fire back with a smile on your face leaving him to roll his eyes and tell you lunch was waiting for you.

In this world, it's just us

You know it's not the same as it was

[jewish-vents]

first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.

i apologize for how long this one is going to be.

i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.

in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.

it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!

it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.

i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.

all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.

.

[prideofcelestia]

❝you are so engrossed in your work that you ignore him without meaning to❞

« characters - mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

MAMMON

He’s legit offended. His entry wasn’t quiet, you know? On top of that, he raced to your room before Asmo could come and blabber about how Mammon has a huge crush on you. The moment Mammon makes his appearance, he begins saying how he doesn’t like you, and that you must be too full of yourself to believe that the Great Mammon will ever fall for his servant, aka you. How can you not be concerned about that?! Now, he is worried that you don’t care enough about him to notice his words.

Wait! Are you actually angry at him…?

Letting go of his tsundere nature, he grabs your shoulders, gives you a good shake, and cries about how he truly and deeply loves you. Don’t ignore your first man, human!

LEVIATHAN

You always look and feel so moe! Playing a game beside you is the best! He manages to win a few levels before the silence bothers him, and he begins talking about the latest anime convention he’s excited about. When you tell him to shush without even looking at him, he feels pain equivalent to what an otaku feels at the loss of their most precious figurine. Completely hollow with no will to continue living. What did he do to deserve your mistreatment? Did you not read the manual, ‘The way to act around Leviathan 404’ that he specially wrote and printed for you? Point 100 clearly mentions that the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy is fragile and needs to be treated with care, especially when the person concerned is his Henry. You’re still his Henry, right? If yes, forfeit all mortal possessions and love him before he summons Lotan.

SATAN

He’s quick to notice that you’re engrossed in your work, and decides to wait for you to finish before mentioning his business. Being a busy demon himself, he respects that you have your own life outside offering therapy sessions to the brothers. It is only when he sees you grinning at your D.D.D even after a while has passed that he starts hearing a tick in his ears. Surely Satan isn’t so invisible that you can completely ignore his presence even though he’s standing mere feet away from you.

Were you… texting Lucifer? Of course not. That will be bizarre! He tries to calm down and decides to be diplomatic. If his coughs don’t get your attention, hopefully a table-shaped hole in your wall will.

ASMODEUS

He’s followed by a trail of your favourite fragrance.

“Oh [Name], look at me! I look more radiant than I did this morning. Don’t you just want to kiss me? If I could, I would never stop cuddling myself!”

When no answer comes, he pouts and takes a seat beside you. Eyeing what you’re working on, he inches closer to you, wraps an arm around you and whispers in your ear.

“[N-A-M-E] honey, why don’t you look at me for now? I am more attractive than your homework.”

“Not now, Asmo. A failing grade will be less attractive than you too so I must prevent that!”

“But your Asmo-chan needs you!”

“And I need to pass,” you say and push him away.

Asmo is hell bent on starting a line of lipstick that comes with homework notes engraved on the side of the tube. That way, you can admire the product, and more importantly him while also revising for your test.

BEELZEBUB

He drops by your room because he misses being close to you. He’s content being there, munching on snacks that he brought for the two of you. The silence is comfortable and he's happy to see you working hard. It's only when he has consumed his share that he looks at you with sad puppy dog eyes. [Name], complete your work fast or nothing will be left! He doesn’t really want to disturb you because you have a serious look on your face but he can’t control his hunger any longer, so he ventures to ask.

“[Name], here, I brought some food for you. Why don't you take a break and eat first?”

“Beel, did you say something? Sorry bubs, but I am busy. Can we talk later?”

He gulps once before eating all the food. Once you finish your work, you better give him head pats and console him, saying how you don’t think that he’s just a glutton and that you’re not mad that he ate everything. He tried this time. He really did.

BELPHEGOR

He enters your room with a flourish, closing the door shut more noisily than is needed. Look up and invite him to lie on your lap, like you usually do. When you don’t move and continue with your task, Belphie sulks and lies down beside you on the bed. He steals a glance at what you are doing because he’s extremely jealous of whoever or whatever is taking up your time. Time that should have been used to pamper him. Let it be! Sooner or later, you are bound to get tired, and then you will see him and offer to run your warm hands through his hair. When that moment never arrives, he gets up moodily, and tries to lie on your lap by force.

“Belphie, what are you doing?! I am busy right now.”

“And I am tired,” he says and somehow manages to get his head on your lap. Good luck getting your work done with him restraining you to that spot.

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Can barely contain my thoughts of excitement for M. Bison’s DLC I don’t normally do insane rambling so I’m gonna put this under the cut. Spoilers for Bison’s World Tour stuff below if you haven’t seen and want to experience that yourself!

Ohhhhh my god the absolute relief and joy I feel that they didn’t do away with M. Bison’s amnesia with his world tour. I think the way they went about that in general was pretty well done! I had my concerns about how they were going to handle his story but giving Bison a clear cut disinterest in Shadaloo beyond what it can do for him is GREAT. I think most important to me he is still Bison, just in a brand new package. Personality wise he’s still his violent, jerkish self with a new layer of hostility and disinterest in others due to his amnesia. I love that there’s a consensus in the game that no one views this version of Bison as “complete” even Bison himself making statements about it. And us as the viewer seeing how characters react to that. F.A.N.G is obviously not thrilled with the whole outcome, JP’s win quote paints him as intrigued about Bison not being “his whole self yet” it’s something every Shadaloo member seems to want to remedy and mitigate as fast as possible, but Bison…does not seem to care beyond the annoyance and curiosity of foggy flashing memories. He states even if a more perfect version of him came along he would simply crush them and take their power for his own. In his own words

His specific point of not really caring about reestablishing the organization (he really went “we’ll see about that”) is a huge relief to me. Because the fact he’s more interested in seeing things play out/not particularly bothered or threatened by the existence of the remnants of Shadaloo means that JP can still run his schemes without me having to worry about Capcom using Bison as an “in emergency break glass” Villain (I hope…)

The only reason Bison is hanging around the ruined lab is just a curiosity for the potential strength hidden in these residual memories, even claiming whether or not they actually do anything matters very little to him. He’s perfectly content with his vessel as is only seeking ways to complete it further if the opportunity presents itself. Biding his time and satiating his hunger for strong fights that fuel his psycho power and give him a chance to control it further.

What I wanted most from his DLC story after seeing the trailer was for him to remain disinterested in Shadaloo (we already have a whole cast of characters deeply embroiled in the sort of feud between Neo Shadaloo’s ranks and all the stuff with F.A.N.G and A.K.I), and for him to still have that personality I love so much even if his methods or motives changed, and I got both of these things so I really am a happy camper.

Other things I really liked about this include pretty much everything around Bison’s bond with his horse

- Bison only sparing us initially because his horse likes us (100/10 reasoning I am obsessed with this)

- then proceeding to tell us in another interaction that said horse is above us on the pecking order and that being useful is the only continued reason for his training of us

- the fact he nursed this dying horse back to health complete with psycho power infusion because he could see how determined it was to stay alive is just AAAAAA

Horse enthusiasts M. Bison is my favorite thing besides just his new looks in general and BOY do I think he looks good. I am chock full of ideas of my own and curious about any new things we may still learn! But needless to say the buzz of excitement is still heavy for me. And I didn’t even get into his arcade mode art phewwwww l’ll put those in a separate post. I also want to say that I love the potential that with Bison’s current disinterest it opens an opportunity to see versions of Vega and Balrog without their direct involvement with Shadaloo, something I would love to see.

Overall though I’m glad that amnesia or not Bison is still himself in the best ways possible and I have so many ideas for stuff especially revolving around my oc now. In the meantime just…just look at him <33

[artdivadej]

Mr.Sandman

Part One

18+ | NSFW

The nightmares never stopped. Not unless I was in his arms. I’d been trying so hard to keep a good distance between us these last six months because I was still confused about how I felt to be honest. I knew I needed him. I knew I’d never cared for anyone else in the way I did him. Was that because the feelings were from trauma bonding to him or because I did finally actually see him after 11 years? It seemed wholly unfair to keep putting him in situations if I couldn’t reciprocate his earnest feelings. He was always honest about where he stood to the way he spoke and how he treated me. How passionate he could be!

During the second games I’d allowed myself to just let my body respond when he’d kissed me on the beach. It scared the hell out of me. Fire erupted in my veins and the pit of my stomach when his tongue met mine, my roots tingled with every pass of his large, gentle fingers running up my neck to cup my cheeks. I’d never wanted sex until that moment.

When Peeta had pulled back and met my gaze, his pecan eyes now a toasted walnut, they too screamed his hunger for more. I wanted his hands all over me, to give me everything that he had on that beach. To feel his gentle lips explore every inch of me. To listen to Peeta worship me all the while. Because I can tell just by how sweetly he talks to me normally that he’d be so vocal. I wanted to really give the capital a show of the fiery passion within me for him in that moment. I was afraid of what that might mean.

I’d been forcing myself to sleep alone since we got back from the war although he only lived 2 houses down from me. Or at least as much sleep as I could muster, which was never usually more than 2-3 hours.

The nightmares never stayed at bay long.

I did visit him when he was asleep. He still slept with his window open and there was a nook built under the window in his bedroom. I’d sneak in when I was sure he was asleep and watch him sleep for a while, surrounded by his scent to make me feel safe again. It brought peace and allowed me to get more sleep at night to see him safe and content.

This was my routine.

I know it made me seem crazy. Especially since I know I could selfishly ask to climb into bed with him and he’d happily tell me yes. That somehow seemed more wrong than this. This didn’t feel like using him. That did.

I didn’t see him conscious much, choosing to hide out in the forest or in my cellar most of the daytime. I used to spend more time at Haymitch’s but Effie’s been visiting him for the last month and I don’t want to intrude.

I missed Peeta. His friendship. His warmth. His light. His smile. His touch. His lips. His hands.

Was that because he was all I had? Because his presence was the only thing that kept me going? I still swear he’d put some kind of spell on me that night at that beach.

I’d slept all alone this week though, knowing he had some big orders for weddings this month (the biggest gossip at the Hob right now) and would be working late hours. I couldn’t be sure when he would be down or up, now that his schedule had been changed for who knows how long.

It had been a hellish week and I just needed some sleep. It had been over 48 hours since I’d gotten any and my body was screaming to just let it drop. I’d have to risk oversleeping a little tonight at Peeta’s and pray he was just as tired from the extra orders.

I waited until a little after 2 am before I popped open my bedroom window and peeked around to make sure the coast was clear before leaping onto the grass barefoot. He’d definitely been baking something because the closer to his house I crept, the stronger the scent of fresh bread became. Oh, I missed this smell. Pushing onto the balls of my feet, I peeked inside to see him rolled facing away from the window, sleeping peacefully with his blanket around his waist. I leapt inside hitting the cushion silently, staying still for a few moments to make sure I didn’t disturb him. Peeta grunted, his left-hand scratching at his hair, his soft dirty blonde hair, before he was still again. I let out a deep breath and pulled the hoodie he had on the seat over my head, settling in and listening to the sounds of his peaceful breathing to lull me to sleep.

×××

I jumped awake, startled by how deeply I’d been sleeping. I wasn’t wearing his hoodie anymore. I’d been wrapped in the same blanket Peeta had round his waist earlier. I was no longer in the window seat either. Peeta had to have woken in the middle of the night and seen me. Shit! When had he moved me to the bed? It was still dark out. A chance look at his alarm clock let me know that I’d only been sleeping for about an hour but, Peeta wasn’t here.

Just as I thought to make a speedy exit, he came out of the adjoining bathroom scratching at his wayward curls, his bare feet slapping the floor lowly. He climbed into the bed still unaware that I was now awake and watching him since I’d stayed on my side. When his arm curled around my waist and pulled me in close, I felt my body slump immediately, my safety returned.

Turning in his arms I realized I’d surprised him as much as he had me when his eyes met mine.

“I didn’t mean to wake you”, he hummed as he brushed his fingertips tenderly down my cheek.

“That’s my line”, I choke ignoring how my breath hitched at his touch.

Oh, I’d been starving for his touch. Those large hands, capable of tossing a man twice his size with ease, yet gentle enough to make fine strokes that create an intricate design on whatever they touched.

“I had to piss anyway”

“You leaving must have woken me up”

“It always did”, he smirked playfully. “So...”

“So?”

I sigh knowing he’s going to want to talk about why I haven't been around him for the last 6 months. I’m a little too tired for that tonight.

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

Ok.

Not the question I was expecting. I bite my bottom lip and break eye contact. His honest, adoring pecan eyes always made me crack and I desperately wanted to lie.

“Baby girl?” he cooed pulling my eyes back to him, his index finger tilting my chin up to make sure he could hold me spellbound.

“A while” I breath

“I knew I hadn’t heard you scream in a long time”

“You could hear me?”

“Of course. I could hear you across a forest, you don’t think I’d hear you 100 feet away?”

“Sorry about that”

“Don’t be. I missed having you this close”, he breathed pulling me in tighter so my rapidly heating body was flush against his.

Oh God I loved his strong arms around me, his thick corded upper body able to surround me completely whenever I buried my face in his chest.

“I can’t sleep without you”, I admit trying to catch my breath

“You missed me?”

I don’t answer and his hand is cupping my cheek, his left that had been tucked under my hip had curled around my waist and was sliding up my back now. His left-hand slides beneath my shirt and up my back smoothly making my body tremble in response. For someone who worked so much with his hands they were so damn soft when he handled me. Whether he was tossing me behind him protectively or throwing me up onto his hips for a hug. Peeta’s terrifyingly powerful hands always felt like silk on my skin. He smirked when he realized there was no bra beneath my t-shirt. Oh, his hands. He tilts his head minutely so his lips just barely brush mine and that heat flares within my belly again. I want him to kiss me so bad.

I want his hands on more of me.

“Say it sweetness”

“Yes. I missed you” I finally admit practically hissing with need.

God I must be tired. I couldn’t string together a coherent thought outside of his lips or his prodding fingers along the expanse of my back and cheek.

“Good girl”, he grinned pecking my lips gently.

The hand cupping my cheek slid down the curve of my neck and I had to be honest, I briefly imagined them on my throat as he made love to me, his overgrown blonde curls falling into his eyes as he brought me to climax beneath him.

Such power in those gentle fingers. I arched up to kiss him again but he pulled back, slightly rolling so that he lay atop me now, both of his hands on either side of my head as I gaze up in wonder at him. His tight muscles strain against his shirt nicely and I reach out to touch him, not wanting him to hover above me but for his skin to touch mine. His right hand grabbed mine. Peeta nibbled my fingers before locking it above my head with the other, pinning me in place with his left hand. He hadn’t even needed to flex a muscle to keep me immobile.

Oh God.

I whined and arched again, hoping he’d take pity and kiss me again if he wasn’t going to touch me.

“Is there something you want?”, he hummed pushing my thighs apart with his knees.

“You”

“What about me?”

“To kiss me” I whined loudly

I would never be this honest if I wasn’t delirious from sleep deprivation but, as far as I knew this could all be a dream. The perfect time to take full advantage of such the perfect dominant vocal Peeta.

His brow quirked but he seemed to have mercy on me as he leaned forward towards my lips. I couldn’t help the excited whine that left my throat any more than my low groan when they met my neck instead.

“You want my mouth on you sweet girl?”, Peeta hummed as his lips began to suck at my neck oh so gently, his thick tongue rolling over my pulse so wonderfully.

“Oh yes!”

“You missed my lips?”, Peeta whispers through his teeth before sinking his teeth into the column of my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Oh Fuck! His lips were descending lower, his teeth snagging at my raised shirt to pull it over my collarbone.

“So beautiful”

I squirmed under his penetrating gaze as his eyes took in every part of my exposed torso, hating that of all the scars the Capitol could get rid of, the one Cato gave me would forever mar my upper body. He’d cut me from waist to throat badly enough I had to practically sew my torso back together. It went from my left hip up through the middle of my breasts, and over my shoulder. The skin was still slightly raised and a deep angry red that made my otherwise pretty skin a jagged mess. Peeta leaned forward and lay a kiss on its apex at my shoulder, suckling the sensitive skin lower and lower until his hot mouth hovered just above my nipple.

“You’re so pretty sweetness”, Peeta groaned pulling my left nipple between his lips, giving a soft suckle. “Such strength in such a lovely frame”

“Ah, Peeta!”

He released my hands, my left happily threaded through his soft curls while my right squeezed at his shoulder. His left hand hiked my thigh up so that my legs dropped open to make more room for his wide frame. Peeta’s large hands cupped both of my breasts, his lips wrapped around the slick swollen bud of my left, his teeth nibbling as he sucked hungrily. I couldn’t stop the shaking of my frame if I tried. Moving his attention to my left breast I pull at his hair, my hips bucking to meet his desperately, drowning in his wet mouth on my nipples.

“Is this what you miss?” he hummed

“I-I-I've never” I try and fail to explain

“You wanted just me to taste you sweet girl?”

“Only you” I pant with another buck of the hips

This makes Peeta smile with a wicked mischief I only remember seeing on his face when he announced my fake pregnancy. His left hand releases my breast and I whine at the loss of contact but his mouth is quick to suckle the bud up into his warm mouth. Only leaving the bud to suck around it and leave his mark on more of my heated skin.I was so lost in his mouth that I’d lost track of his free right hand. Peeta had pushed my panties to the side, dragging his index and middle finger up back and forth against my slick lips.

“So wet for me”, he moaned

Peeta was robbing me of all reason I had as his hands explored every dip and groove that set my body on fire. To hear his deep sweet voice, whisper such lewd things as he made me melt with his fiery touch was enough to set every atom ablaze with his heat. When he slipped his index finger deep within me to his palm, I gasped in surprise at the fullness the thickness of his finger gave me. His mouth was on mine in seconds, swallowing my gasps of pleasure as he curled and slow stroked my walls.

“Peeta”

“Breathe pretty girl. I need you ready for me” he whispered in my ear as his left hand rolled my nipple between his fingers.

If his finger felt like this how would I fit all of him inside of me? Almost as if sensing my thoughts Peeta’s teeth enclose around the top shell of my ear before licking the shell and biting again. Oh. I liked that.

“Can I taste you sweetness?”

“I thought you were” I gasp when he tweaks my nipple and thrusts up particularly hard with his finger in a way that makes me clench around him.

“Oh no, I meant your sweet pussy”

He slips his finger from within me and I can’t help but whine again, missing the full feeling but he places his soaked finger into my open mouth. I wrap my lips around it and suck hard, rolling my tongue over it, making a show of enjoying the sweet flavor. Peeta’s eyes widen as he watches me and I can feel his dick twitch against my thigh. His lips capture mine quickly as his tongue sucks mine hungrily to get a taste of me as well.

“Can I please?” he groans against my lips, his hips rocking back and forth desperately now.

“Yes”

“Yes”

The triumphant soft moan that leaves his lips makes my clit jump in response. Was Peeta always this doting? This open about his desires? Oh, I couldn’t wait to feel his mouth worshipping my lips for the first time. I had a feeling Peeta was going to have me awake for the rest of the night.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello! I love your blog! I watched the show when it came out last year and am getting prepared for season 2 by coming here and watching all the promos and such. I read the books years ago, so I am no expert. I have a tons of questions, but please forgive me if you have answered them before. At the end of the first season, when Armand was revealed, I assumed the love of my life line was for Daniel. To get a reaction out of Daniel, Louis did not seem Ok. But all the promo information seems to imply they have been happy for the most part all these years. Or if not happy, then content.  I get that there has been tinkering, I get they are putting on a performance for Daniel, but they seem to have elevated their relationship from the book. It has been years since I read the book, but I always thought in Paris, Armand was mind controlling Louis to some degree. They barely knew each other; it was only a couple of months I think before Claudia was killed. It wasn’t some grand romance. Just manipulation to get at Lestat. I know Armand fell in love with Louis, but I felt that Louis did not fall in love with Armand. He was infatuated. Then they travel around for 100 years, but just because Louis can’t be alone and there was no one left. They are not happy or even pretending to be.  Louis didn’t even notice when Armand left him. Did I interpret this wrong? I have seen that some are spectating that Dubai is Trinity Gate. But again, maybe I am wrong, but Trinity Gate never felt super romantic to me. Just two people waiting around for the people they really wanted to be with to get their crap together and come back. I know that they are polyamorous in the books, but their main romantic relationships are with other people. When Lestat and Daniel show up, they just get back with them, no drama or anything. It just feels like the show is trying to elevate Armand and Louis’s relationship to create some kind of love triangle, which just feels cheap to me. Very Twilight and Hunger Games. There are people have shipping wars over these relationships. I am also confused how people have such strong feelings about Louis and Armand when we haven’t even seen them on screen yet. Anyways, I guess I am feeling turned off by this season. Hardly any Louis and Lestat or Daniel and Armand and some love triangle with a ghost.  Part of the reason season 1 was so great was the chemistry between Louis and Lestat. I think an entire season with little interaction between them and a new Claudia just will feel like a whole new show.  Do you think the show is just completely diverting from the book with all of the stuff in Duabi? It seems obvious from comments made by the actors that Devils Minion happened in the past. But did it happen with Louis there? I can’t see that making any of these shippers happy on either side. Louis would very much be thrown aside for Daniel. Daniel and Armand were so intense about each other in the books and can’t see Louis not being ignored regularly if they were in a throple. I just don’t see it working because Louis in the show does not seem numb. He would care if his partner was deeply in love with someone else even if just for the principle of it. The show has already shown how well Louis handles cheating.  So I am assuming the broke up but then why did Louis say they had been together for 77 years? Also, Louis keeps giving side eye to Daniel and Armand when they are having moments. Does he not know about them? It seems like he does from his poking, but I am very confused by the whole thing. Why do you think they are trying so hard to manipulate Daniel? Taking journal pages out and such. What is the point of all of this. I just cannot see a way for any of this to make sense that at all keep in line with the books. Also do you think the show will do polyamory? They went so hard on the cheating aspect in season 1, which makes me think they can’t go there on the show. You can’t make it such a deal breaker for Louis for me to ever believe that he would ok with it later.  

Hey!

Glad you like!

So, first off, the last line, the "Love of my life", was revealed to be inspired by "The Graduate", and was played as such, which... changes the meaning quite a lot, imho. Here is a good post on that.

I think the Loumand we see is very much presenting a united front (something the reviews have been pointing at as well). That said, the extended look the other day made clear that the pages were not removed for Daniel - Armand removed them (at least the straight cut out ones imho), and Louis does not have access to them either. And whatever they reveal will be a catalyst for sure (I'm thinking Merrick reveal, as that book is where the diary entries are from after all).

Louis definitely knows about Armand and Daniel, in fact I believe he is trying to bring them back together.

I think that parts of the Devil's Minion happened with Louis there, or Louis at least aware. I also think Louis tried to break up with Armand in Paris (as he does in the book) and probably drifted away from him later on too (also as in the book) but maybe... that is the part where things get very muddy re memory. And tinkering.

I do not think we'll have love triangles in the sense of the word.

This is not about cheating, whether that be Loustat, Loumand or Devil's Minion, it never was.

It was presented to be, for reasons.

But these relationships just don't work that way, and one of the very hard to stomach realizations will be that Louis stayed with Armand (and especially if there were no full break-ups!) despite what Armand does to Claudia. And him.

For me it all makes a lot of sense, tbh.

It's a tale. A version of the story presented for a reason, from a specific POV. In season 2 we will get more POVs. And we already know they will revisit things. Likely in the last episodes, if the reviews are any indication.

And then... the tale will shift.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

23 + Fernando Alonso (can't wait to see what you come up with!)

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request ♥︎

Sorry this is a little late, but better late than never, right?

When I saw the song I instantly knew what I wanted to do for this one, it practically wrote itself and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too!

+ Much like the Esteban fic, this is my first Fernando fic which is super fun! I really want to write more Fernando so if anyone has any more inspiration or any ideas do drop into my ask box and say hi!

Song 23 - These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ // Nancy Sinatra

Pairing - Fernando Alonso x Reader 

Word Count - 1.2k

Content Warnings - Swearing, sex references

These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

To you, rich men were boring. Each and every man who would aim to win your affections was just a carbon copy of the next, from the immaculately coiffured hair, to the gaudy watch they would flash to prove they were moneyed, and to the Maserati they had stashed away in their garage hoping it would make up for their tiny cock.  

The vast majority cared about little but themselves. Their egos sat atop mountains of cryptocurrency and NFTs. Mountains that were just as fragile as the identities they held up. A slight gust of wind could send them toppling to the ground, their masculinity destroyed and their wealth worthless. 

You were a hurricane, a destroyer of men. You knew exactly how to do it, and would leave a trail of destruction and male tears wherever you went. In the past, you had enjoyed watching as they fell from their pedestals, the silver spoon they were born with falling from their mouths with a clatter. But now, it was simply boring. You had lived out the same story over and over again, and you wanted something new, something exciting and different. 

And you had found that something new on the day that Fernando Alonso had approached you in a bar in Monaco. 

———

“If you’re looking for a sugar baby, you should know I make six figures a day, so you’d better be offering me seven. Then I might consider it.” You say, not lifting your eyes from your half-empty espresso martini on the bar. 

“I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you don’t need me to pay for you.” He says, and you finally look up from the counter and raise your eyebrow. 

“Hm. How about you buy the first drink, and if you can prove to me that you’re worth my time, I’ll buy you one in return?” You say, and he offers you a sly smirk. 

“Deal.” He says, and he flags down the bartender who immediately makes his way over to the two of you. 

“I’ll have a martini. Dirty.” You say, and the bartender nods.

“Make that two.” Fernando says, and you smile to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Are you always this easily influenced by the women you meet in bars?” You ask, and he smiles. 

“Only when they have good taste.” He replies. 

“Correct answer.” You say, before finishing the remains of your espresso martini, setting the glass down before you. 

You fish out the remaining candied coffee bean from the bottom of the glass and pop it on your tongue, before biting down with a satisfying crunch. Fernando’s eyes watch you intently as you do so, gazing at your lips with a look filled with hunger. 

The bartender returns with your drinks and you give the man a small smile as Fernando taps his bank card. You notice the familiar logo of a private bank reserved only for the most affluent of society emblazoned on the top of his card and smile to yourself. 

“I must say you’ve lasted longer than most men who agree to play my little game. I usually end up getting stuck with the bill when Daddy’s credit card declines.” You say, and Fernando smiles at you, raising his glass. 

“I have never played a game I cannot win.” Fernando says, and you raise your glass to his, gazing into his dark brown eyes as you clink them together. 

“Well I’ll drink to that.” You say, before taking a sip of your martini. 

“Are there any rules to this game I should know?” Fernando asks, and you press your index finger to your lips in thought. 

“There are no rules. I find life to be more fun without regulation and restriction.” You say, and Fernando nods. 

“Then I can ask your name, yes?” Fernando says, and you nod. 

“It’s (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n), feel free to google me when you next go to relieve yourself. You’ll find a nice little article from Forbes designating me the seventeenth most successful businesswoman in the world.” You say, and Fernando tuts. 

“I don’t care about that.” He says. 

“Correct answer once again. Now, may I ask your name?” You say, and Fernando smiles. 

“Fernando Alonso.” 

“Wow, you’re three for three so far, and I think you’re the first man to do so in my extensive experience of being approached in bars.” 

“What would be the wrong answer?” He asks, and you chuckle slightly. 

“The most common one is, ‘don’t you know who I am?’ Had you said that, I would have pretended I had no clue who you were and walked away.” You say, and Fernando laughs. 

“So you do know who I am?” He says, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know of you, but I don’t know you. Yet.” 

“You would like to know me?” 

“You intrigue me, I’ll admit. You quite clearly have a strong ego, but you aren’t intimidated by me and my equally large ego in the slightest. So you’re as secure in your identity and your sense of self as I am, and I find that to be incredibly attractive.” You say, and Fernando nods, clearly impressed by your honest assessment of him. 

“Your honesty is welcome. I like it.” Fernando says, taking a final sip of his drink and placing the empty glass on the counter. 

You give him a small smile and empty your glass, placing it beside his before standing from your bar stool. 

“So, will you be buying me a drink now?” Fernando asks, and you chuckle at him as you store your phone away in your handbag and tuck the handle into the crook of your arm. 

“I already have. There’s a bottle of champagne on ice in my hotel room. Let’s go.” You say, and Fernando smiles, clearly holding back a laugh. 

“How are you so sure I would come back with you?” 

“You approached me in a bar, signalling that aesthetically, at least, you were interested in me. You then proceeded to stay while I nursed my martini, made some rather cutting remarks, and played the part of the aloof millionaire. If you weren’t still interested in sleeping with me, you would have excused yourself by now, presumably under the guise of catching up with the man in the booth over there who I believe to be Nico Rosberg, and promptly made a swift exit.” You say, and Fernando laughs in disbelief. 

“You are very good at this game. I think you win.” He says, and it’s your turn to chuckle.

“Oh, love, I invented this game, I always win.” You say as Fernando opens the door to the bar and allows you to step out first into the night before following you onto the street. 

[princeofsinweek]

Hello! I am so excited to be hosting a Prince of Sin Week this year. The goal is to get more content on the Princes and to celebrate the next book coming out in October! @afandomangel is running the account but I want to shout out @litnerdwrites and @cadiawrites for all of the support and great ideas. The encouragement to have this be a larger event has really helped!

Shoutout to @litnerdwrites for this idea to have both prompts for each day and a prince for each day that creators can choose from! We need your help for the second option of each day. For each day creators can choose to either write for that Prince and/or use the prompt. i.e. for 07/08 you can choose to create something for Pride, use the prompt to make something for Pride, or chose a different Prince and use the prompt for 07/08.

07/07 Day 1: Prince Wrath/All Is Fair In Love and War

Featuring Prince Wrath’s sin, Wrath is the demon general of war and is a fierce warrior and strategist. "Acta non verba," meaning "actions, not words," is Wrath’s motto, and he lives by it. And don’t forget that “anger is his own personal aphrodisiac.” 😏

07/08 Day 2: Prince Pride/ Reflections and Ego

“I don’t simply look pretty. I am dashing.” Day two will feature Prince Pride. He loves to feed his ego and leads many to believe he is debauched, a drunkard, and a rake, but it is all an act. Though he does play the role so well that sometimes it doesn’t look like an act, leading to some of his struggles with those he cares for.In Emelia’s description of his throne room, it is described to have ornate mirrors everywhere to allow him to gaze upon himself whenever he likes. And as we learned from one of the other princes (Envy) the mirrors may not always be used just for his own reflection.😉

07/09 Day 3: Prince Envy/Games and RIddles

Prince Envy, oh Prince Envy, our prince loves a good game just as much as he loves to invoke his namesake sin in others. He often plays games with others, some dangerous enough to threaten his court. He is very cunning and ruthless, and he is not above trickery.  He is quite envious (hence his sin) and is a tad possessive as we saw in Throne of the Fallen with Camilla. 

07/10 Day 4: Prince Greed/All Bets Are Off

Prince Greed, like his brothers, enjoys games and tricks. He rules over his own gaming hell and enjoys placing wagers. He is also very calculating and ruthless, and Emelia describes him during an encounter as having a possessive hunger in his gaze. With his namesake sin, he is very greedy and can never get enough of things, power being one of them.  

07/11 Day 5: Prince Gluttony/Champagne Fountains

“He was a rake through and through. And he seemed adored for it.” Prince Gluttony overindulges in the things he enjoys: food, alcohol, debauchery, and hosting jaw-dropping parties to shock others, including the Reporter (Can’t wait for Throne of Secrets).  Gluttony is very suggestive and is often occupied in the selfish matters of his sin. Someone mentioned in the suggestions for prompts that he spends a lot of time with his partner. Our prince most likely does overindulge when it comes to his partner, time, gifts, food, attention, etc. 

07/12 Day 6: Prince Sloth/For Research

Like Gluttony, Sloth is often preoccupied in selfish matters of his sin. But unlike his brothers, he prefers to lounge around and read rather than engage in debauchery. He wears a mask of being a bashful, lazy book lover but he is also a very lethal warrior wielding a powerful weapon of his mind. He is very calculating and does not miss a detail. He takes his time studying until he has formulated a conclusion and course of action.  Sloth is very guarded and wary of others and often investigates others wanting to know everything about them from birth to the present day, including all potential lovers.  As for relationships Sloth has only had a few serious relationships and none have ended with tragedy or heartbreak. Sloth tries to avoid drama. 

07/13 Day 7: Prince Lust/Lover

The final day will feature Prince Lust’s sin. The Prince of Lust is known for toying with a person’s happiness and their carnal urges. He is quite the gossip and is very cunning. The prince is also a secret romantic despite his love for debauchery. Him being needy and romantic were a common suggestion for the prompts for Prince Lust.

[jonjoeey]

So like, we all agree that Hollyleaf giving Bramblestar a life was a missed opportunity right,,

And also that she should’ve played a part in TBC

I know people are afraid of the Erins butchering their characters but I think ppl forget we’ve seen so little of Hollyleaf. She shows up in ONE arc, is like semi-gone for the next one and then gets killed off again.

Most of all, I’m just starving for more content 😭

Like I wanted to see my girl do more, I wanted to see her be happy, I wanted to see her become a mentor. We had a great setup for a healthy character who redeemed themselves. And then it’s like “oh, actually the only way for murderers to redeems themselves is through DEATH”

It’s like hello?? Can’t we have a little sunshine, a little happiness actually

Like that was my favorite cat as a child and you KILLED her 😭 and it sucks bc it feels like she’s the only one who had good lessons for actual children to read (out of the protagonists)

Like no one out here,, is relating to hulk lionblaze right?? Unless there is and I’m really sorry. And Jayfeather is actually very relatable to some people so I’m not going to say anything about him.

The most relatable part of Hollyleaf was how she was STUCK finding her place. She was broken by things that in the end didn’t matter to her. She was questioning and inquisitive and she cared. She was contradictory, she made a big mistake and she felt bad for it but she eventually came back to face it.

The way I see it, it’s kind of like killing (hunger games: SPOILER Finneas from Hunger Games when he was about to be really happy,, it’s like hey, we don’t need more likeable characters being killed off for the sake of it actually 🙁)

Sorry this is a really huge rant, you can tell this is all I’ve been thinking about for like a week and it’s not very comprehensible. This is what I get for coming back to Warriors 😭

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hello! How u doing?

Can i ask for some DarkCosmic! Jhin x gn! reader headcanons! Im crying fr there is barely Jhin content. Im so happy i found your blog, its so damn great <33 ilysm!! Take care :D

✦–Dark Cosmic Jhin x reader short story.✦ (SFW)

✦Demos on their way to provide Jhin content for you, because Jhin enjoyers deserve everything that’s the best.

✧ prompt: ✧ just some headcanons that are placed in the Cosmic/Dark Star alternative universe.

✧ champions: ✧ Jhin, the Virtuoso (Dark Cosmic).

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral (no Y/N used).

✧ author’s note: ✧ I’m afraid it turned out more like a short story than headcanons, but you must forgive me, the whole Cosmic universe is just so emphemeral and majestic, it called me by itself to write something like this, frfr. Like, I literally have Dark Star Kha’zix as my main theme, just because it’s the most aesthetic skin in the entire game. ANYWAYS, guys, hit me up with any ideas for Jhin content, because I’m gonna take care of it, I PROMISE. And don’t worry about your asks, I’m really writting them, I’m just a bit lazy and slow. As always, please ignore any mistakes.

masterlist

The Cosmic Court has lost Jhin’s light. He has fallen into the Dark Star’s trap, embraced the inky space. Now, bestowed with new starfire powers, he conscientiously begun to claim the Universe as a canvas for his artwork.

Jhin’s corruption quickly escalated, cosmic frame mirrored the cells of his mad and abstract concept of reality. It all belonged to him now. He could create anything or make nothing from the absolute; proclaim the universe with a new virtuoso as a cradle of twisted nebulas, incandescent galaxies, blurred across the black reality.

His hunger grew alongside claiming more and more stars, his four emphemeral hands - two filled with the energy of relinquished Cosmic celestial, the other two greeting the omnipotent might of the Dark Star - working, reaching, grabbing, painting, spreading.

These hands, he reached them once for a brand new Galaxy, fresh and pure, uncertain of the destination it should met. It could be turned into something truly gorgeous, breathtaking, beyond anything a simple mortal could ever comprehend. He wanted to ensnare this light, capture it at its most enduring state, and then squize it in his claws, paint the infinite darkness of expanse by its entrails.

But Jhin hesitated. It wasn’t just another impotent Galaxy drifting in space, awaiting its dull end, that would come in eons. It was another Celestial being, alive and in their youth, unaware of the ongoing war between the Dark Star and its corruptants and the Cosmic Court.

He approached, though there was a concerning aspect in their apperance. Like a whirling black hole that he employed to create artworks greater than himself, the artist behind.

Discovered when he found himself closer, he realized that he misses the feeling of gliding freely between plantes, with stardust sweeping through his ephemeral cape. Emptiness surrounded this poor Celestial, ubiquitous darkness and black background only in the sight. It was almost pitful, to look at something so lonely, with no items to craft and work and paint. But Jhin was an artist, which entailed that he felt and saw more, curiosity rised achingly in his cosmic body.

And he obtained them, because Jhin, empowered by the power of the Dark Star, always got what he desired, what his longing soul cried for. Firstly, it was a move made from pity; soon he became covetous, as he saw other corruptants becoming jealous of his new pet. The old, disdainful wraith, Mordekaiser, jeered, demanding his own cohort of enslaved Celestials. ”If Jhin can have one, why won’t we create a whole army of it? Why should we meet constelations with cataclysms, instead of claiming them as our own?” he asked, encouraged by the coward, Xerath. But Jhin decided to mercifully ignore his acquaintances, as the Herald, Thresh, didn’t stop him - his own twisted mind hided his soft spot for some kind of pets.

Jhin admired his new companion’s loyality. They decided to stood by his side, and he was positive they would be loyal even in the end of the Cosmic Court, end of the Dark Star and the whole Universe, just because he had freed them from the nothingless of their corner of space.

He uncovered that he had no desire of consuming nor devastating the Celestial into a new piece of art, just becausae of their purity and mellowness. When born in a dark emptiness, their being couldn’t soak with the benightedness that kept buisy the minds of others. He could bathe them in his own ideas and beliefs.

Neither Mordekaiser nor Xerath could order him to leave his new partner - they became his inspiration, his only appreciated audience. Their word was valued by Jhin more than the ardous asks from the other corruped cosmic titans.

They weren’t ordinal. They were found in a repugnant darkness, embraced by no stars, no nebulas, only ceaseless nothingless. It was almost calming, like the dim insides of the Dark Star, which were consummate, persistent, always hungry for more. Jhin admired it and wanted to show his pet the whole Universe, the beauty he could rip from constellations, melt them to his will.

He often became pensive, milling the thoughts that consumed his mind, pushing him into the greatness of his immense conciousness. They could listen to him for eons about the convoluted twists and strings behind his art. But he would never talk about his past and the Cosmic Court. And they were never malicious enough to force him to confess that.

The whole Galaxy was yours. Jhin was the reason the sanctimonious herold of the Dark Star, Thresh, has brought the rightful owner, the true heir of the devouring force of this Universe, Lux, so she could claim the throne. And by this way, the Virtuoso obtained favourability of his master - the one that gave him the powers. It let him spread the superficial chaos, proudly pace through space with his new companion, his beautiful galaxy, his devotion and destination.

Because Jhin was never reserved; if he wanted the whole Universe to belong to him, he would accomplish this task even without help of the Dark Star.

[bohemian-nights]

Just came from Team Black discourse and jezz,that people oozed racism from their skin. Dumbnyra stans proclaim Addam is the most important dragonseed so of course he would appear first and Nettles is ""Uninteresting and boring."/"she’s way overhyped and people often talk about her like she’s some YA protagonist rather than a side character in asoiaf"(their words)

Pardon me, even GRRM said he wanted to explore Nettles's story. Also have they seen how freaking lame is Missy Anne which basically did nothing on the war, her dragon sucks and was the only ruler kicked out from the throne by the smallfolk.

No offense to Addam, but they hype him up like that cause even though queen crazy tried to kill/maim him, that man stayed loyal to her and died for her.

He is literally the only dragonseed that stayed loyal to her. His sole purpose is to be loyal to her and sacrifice his life for her which is why this is the only official artwork/picture we have of him:

The Loyal inscription looks like it is encased in a heart. Cough, he does what they wish Daemon did, cough.

In the end, his sacrifice is ultimately meaningless because the queen he died to protect ends up dying too.

The boy who dies and has no legacy(Alyn is the one who carries on the Velaryon name), is not nor will ever be more important than Nettles, but of course, he is going to get all the kudos instead of the girl who she tried to murder in her sleep because she couldn't stand that her husband fell in love with a Black girl(just like her weirdo stans).

They can say what they like though cause if Nettles was truly irrelevant/uninteresting she would’ve died, they would treat her like they do Mysaria, and yeah GRRM wouldn't have said this.

Now I won't dunk on them for liking Missy Anne. She has qualities, but there are plenty of people who love secondary characters(which is what Nettles is) more than the major players(see the Hunger Games, Harry Potter, and Star Wars fandoms to name a few).

Case in point, you have people who made up a whole backstory about General Hux from Star Wars (who is just a secondary character) with him being abused by his father and having some cat named Millicent. People were creating more content for him than they were Finn who was a main character(which I won't get into, but the Star Wars fandom is a fucking mess for the same reasons as the HOTD fandom).

So people liking/hyping up Nettles for being a bastard orphan girl who claims a wild dragon, has a prince willing to die for her, and survives the Dance(all canonical things mind you) doesn’t even top the turning secondary/minor characters into YA protagonists list and Nettles barely has any fans to begin with.

One can count the people who consistently post about her and/or who genuinely care about her character on about two hands and some change. These people are spazzing out over a fandom that consists of like 20 people (which makes this all the more hilarious). I wish she was more hyped than she was cause she's an awesome character, but she isn't that popular at all.

I cannot repeat this enough, they only shit on Nettles cause she isn't there to serve as Missy Anne’s mammy. That’s the only time they like Black women or Black characters and don’t mind us being included.

We have to serve them to be deemed worthy of inclusion(hence why they welcome a racebent Addam), but Nettles has her own story arc complete with surviving the Dance(she’s the only one who fought in the war that still had her dragon) and become a fire witch/goddess.

If that's being uninteresting, well then, she’s a very uninteresting character.

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

Introduction Post :DD

I don’t know exactly how to do this but I’m doing it anyways!

+🌑+🌘+🌗+🌖+🌕+🌔+🌓+🌒+🌑+

Name: Call me N, Percy, Owl or Halskë :)

Age: 15+ (I’m a minor)

Gender: Non-binary (pronouns: any except for neos)

Orientation: biromantic & Demisexual :)

Religion: Hellenistic & Nordic pagan (Greek & Norse deities. Probably won’t post often about this stuff but I do reblog things relating to it) (No, I am not interested in converting, don’t try it. Believe me, the Mormons at my school have tried.)

I’ll post my art once in while! Nothing on my blog in terms of interests is set in stone, but you will often see art from fandoms I’m in, or of my ocs/fursonas!

theriotype: Tundra wolf! (Spiritual) hearttype: border collie! (Spiritual)

kintypes: Cryptidkin, dragonkin, crowkin! (These are either spiritual or/and emotional.) & Serial Designation N (MD) Fictionkin!

Fandoms: Grishaverse, Riordanverse, The MCU, Good Omens, The Folk of The Air, Murder Drones, FNaF, The Dream SMP (yes, I know some of the CCs are bad people, I supported very few of them. Tommy, Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil, and Techno were the only ones I actively watched outside of lore streams. This was a hyperfixation of mine and I am still very willing to talk about it because suddenly it’s been revived on Tumblr and now my page is full of C!Clingy duo. Please talk to be about it, I loved it and still do.) The Lunar Chronicles, The Hunger Games, The Song of Achilles, EPIC: The Musical, Aru Shah, Hamilton (technically), Warriors, Avatar: TLA, Iron Widow, The Furry fandom, and many others! (These are in no specific order)

I’m a batshit insane Kaz Brekker simp lol :)

Other things: I’m a furry (my fursona is named Halskë! I will post about these things.) I am diagnosed with ADHD, Slytherin, Cabin 7 (Apollo), I’m a fan of bones and taxidermy :) I also bow hunt large game such as antelope, deer, elk and big horned sheep :)

C!Technoblade (DSMP) kinnie! (Not a kintype!Just relate to the character:) )

just a note! I am in no way identifying with or as Percy Jackson from the Riordanverse, Percy is just my chosen name. Although I do absolutely love the Riordanverse and it’s a life long hyperfixation of mine, Please don’t refer to him as me, thank you!

I am a diehard FNaF fan. I will talk about it for HOURS. I love FNaF. Mention it and I will vibrate at a frequency strong enough to shatter glass. So yes, please talk to me about it :)

DNI: Basic haters, trans-homo-or otherwise LGBT-phobic people, pro-Nazis, zoos, racists, or fans of The Human Centipede (Gives me PTSD-like triggers.) & NSFW blogs specifically, I don’t care if you interact with me, but do not bring anything NSFW into my asks, I’m a minor and on the asexual spectrum and it makes me uncomfortable, thanks! :)

also please note, even if you are not in my DNI list, I do block freely, I do not stand for people who are constantly pessimistic. I don’t care if you’re pessimistic in general, myself am a realist, but what I mean by that is if you are more than 80% of the time just a negative being, I will most likely not interact with you.

another thing! My content is considerably 13+ (I will not respond to asks if you under 12 years old, as it makes me uncomfortable because tweens scare me.) and if you are older than 25, do not interact with me (EX: asks), as you are between 10-5 years older than me. (The under 12 rule does not apply to those who are regressors.)

also for Gaza/Ukraine GoFundMe’s, I am unable to donate, I would if I could.but I can’t, so please don’t send me asks to donate.

I accept people of all gender, sexual, and/or identity. Don’t come on to my profile with your phobic bullshit.

online friends! :D: @kirshimadenkisero @the-bineapple @writingnotes520 @popatochsp (These goobs are also my mutuals!)

my tags!

Original posts: #Cryptid whispers, #Dragon Growls, #The Wolf Bites #N Rambles

art: #The Moss Owl Creature Has Taken To Scribbling, #Owl Draws Will add more as the list grows!

reblogs: #Dragon Rumbles

That’s all! Have a good day/evening :D

[kahlanmars]

PAPER RINGS part. 5

Ehi, I felt like I needed to know a bit of Marjorie's pov so... enjoy!

MASTERLIST

5. Marjorie

MARJORIE’S POINT OF VIEW

Marjorie. Marjorie. My name is Marjorie, not Inez. 

Marjorie Tyrell, the daughter of the baker. 

Now, the name of the baker is not Caiys Tyrell, it's Mellark. Matthias Mellark, I used to know him, he was my father's apprentice. A young boy, a little younger than me, with golden hair and blue eyes. My father wanted us married, but my eyes weren't for him and he had a huge crush on another blonde girl.

Peeta Mellark, I don't know him. His son. Not with the blonde girl. He looks a little like his father, but less melancholic, Matthias always had a look that screamed “I don’t want to be here”. 

Matthias is dead, with his wife and his other sons. Also Atilius Everdeen, and most of the friends I had when I was in Twelve.

I still can’t believe I’m in Twelve again. The day I left I was sixteen, frightened and crushed by the death of my parents. 

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I went to sleep exhausted from the work in the bakery, but happy because Haymitch was alive, he won the Hunger Games and he was going home in a few days. The plan was always the same for every couple in the district: a wedding, a long marriage and maybe a kid, even if the thought of having a kid with a victor was dangerous. 

Haymitch. I loved him so much, and I was a little girl who dreamed about simple dreams. I made him beg for months before giving him a kiss. I regret it now, but it was a good costume for a good girl, and he was quite a looker, there were stories about him and girls in the meadow, more than one. I was coming from a wealthy family for the district’s standard and he was from the seam, my father was not pleased, I was the only daughter, I was supposed to marry well. But my father loved me and after a moment of uncertainty he gave up, as long as I was happy. That night, I was happy.

That night everything fell.

I woke up screaming, fire all around me and the smoke was so heavy I couldn’t see anything. I screamed for my mom, my papa, but nobody answered until I fainted, sure I was going to die. 

I died, in a way. Part of me is still sixteen, trapped in that small bed on fire.

Thirteen saved me instead. They were planning to use me as a leverage for Haymitch, to force his hand to join the cause. I don’t know why the plan didn’t proceed, maybe he was too young or… I don’t know. I didn’t know at the time, I was in the hospital, severely traumatized. A nurse, a lovely woman named Carol, suggested that I abandon my name for another one. I refused for months, too proud, because Marjorie was a family name, my grandmother’s name. But when I finally understood I was never going to return to Twelve, I asked for advice on the new name.

She didn’t answer, but her son did. “I like Inez”, he simply said, “It comes from a ballad, she is not the nicest but she has character”. He was visiting his mother at work, I was only in the hospital and I didn’t see him before. And with that, Antonius was in my life.

It was a year after my death. The more he came to visit me, the more I felt guilty about Haymitch. I watched him on television on a regular basis, and the feelings that were growing for Antonius were cheating. 

Antonius was the opposite of him. His hair was dark and his eyes hazel, he wasn’t tall and he was very, very thin, but his smile was contagious and he was always in a happy mood. He asked me out for a long time, but I always explained I wasn’t free, I had a fiancé and I was loyal to him. He was patient, but he looked at me like he was pitying me. Then, one day, he dared.

“But… Marjorie was promised. Inez is not.”

I don’t know if I loved him like I loved Haymitch. At sixteen I was a little girl who dreamed about a wedding and I was content to have what my mother had, and I cared for him like a sixteen year old could do. I was jealous of the other girls at school, and I cherished the ribbons I gave him like a wedding ring. 

I’m trying not to say I was stupid, but I was at least naivé. 

At eighteen, despite being still young, I was a woman with a conscience and I was carrying baggage that wasn’t light, and Antonius was my rock. We got married in October, a year later, I had a beautiful white dress and a pearl necklace. I followed Carol’s path and became her apprentice first, and then a nurse like her. Everything went fine for a bit.

Then the plague crushed us. 

It was a pox outbreak. Carol died first, and I was so sad because she became like a second mother to me, and we were so worried that I might catched it since I worked in a hospital, but then Antonius started coughing. 

I remember the sensation. Like everything was falling again. I remember the sadness, the darkest moment of my life, I remember the anger, don’t you dare dying on me, my love, don’t you dare lose me. I remember discovering the hard truth that I was alone again.

I remember his eyes becoming vitreous, his face paler.

I screamed for hours, I refused to let go of his body. I tried to scratch the guards, to hurt them like I was hurt. I wanted to die with him. 

Maybe it would’ve been better.

The following years have been a struggle both to live and to tell. It was hard to go out of the bed, hard to eat, hell, even hard to breathe, but the district had their rules and I was a nobody.

Then rumors about the revolution spreaded again. I watched Haymitch on television every year, and I noticed the change in his appearance. I knew him as a handsome boy with a smug expression on his face, and now he was a broken man. 

I thought Katniss and Peeta’s year would have been the hardest to watch, because for the first time in twenty years Twelve had a chance of winning, but then Daisy Pinecone came the year after. 

I liked her at first, she seemed like a sweet girl, and she was Holly’s daughter so I wanted her alive, but she looked like she had a few chances. Too kind, with her princess dresses and flowers in her hair, waving and smiling like she was a movie star rather than a tribute to the Hunger Games. 

The interview has been one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Daisy giggling and telling Caesar and the cameras that she was in love with a man from her district, Clark’s revelation, all was followed by Thirteen citizens staring at me like I was a poor sad old woman. Pitying me.

It wasn’t right to hold it against him. I had Antonius, I loved him, I was a widow and not his widow. Still, I couldn’t help trying to find out as much as I could. The magazines Thirteen used to steal for information helped me a lot. Apparently, Daisy was his housekeeper. Daisy was twenty four years old and he was forty one. Daisy was head over heels for him, and Daisy was beautiful.

When I saw him again I thought I was hallucinating. He thought the same thing, and for a while I let him believe that. I couldn’t think now I’d have my chance, and at the same time I was feeling guilty about Antonius.

I knew from the start Haymitch wasn’t going to replace him. Inez was married to him, I built a life with him, we were planning on having children together, we dreamed about a girl, he would have loved the name “Ivy”. I liked the name because ivy is a plant, and in district Twelve it is common to use the plant's names. It reminded me of home. At night we used to describe her, to describe our family, how everything was going to change because Thirteen would have been free soon and our daughter could have run in the grass, carefree like only a child could be. 

Nothing happened, and every time I looked at Haymitch I felt the sting of the guilt hitting me. 

Haymitch was changed. He wasn’t the young man I fell in love with, he was a broken man just like I was a broken woman. He was yellow from the drunk addiction, he shaked badly and his moods were swinging like a chandelier. He wasn’t an easy man. 

I could see he tried, he really tried. He tried not to be angry with me because I left him, he thought I was dead and for years he didn’t dare to be with another woman because he thought everyone he touched was going to be hurt.

He tried to be in love with me, and not to the memories he had of me. And he tried to reprime the feelings he had for Daisy.

He failed. 

The only good thing that came out of the revolution is Holly Pinecone. The fifteen year old girl who used to babysit you, the nineteen year old friend who lost you, found you again. Holly was still resolute, strong and determined, she was a rock. 

Daisy, on the other hand, was insufferable. I believe some of this sentiment is due to jealousy, but I still don’t like her from the bottom of my heart. She is entitled, spoiled, she believes everyone should love her just because her face is pretty and she has doe eyes, she is incapable of taking the blame even once and she is so shallow and superficial you would believe she is from Capitol City.

Haymitch says “Yes” to everything she proposes, he follows her around like a lovesick puppy. Chaff mocks him with a motto, “What Daisy wants Daisy has” and he is completely right. You don’t get it, you don’t get how a person like this could be loved by Haymitch. But she saved my life and I owed her that, she could have left me to die in that room and then create a story about it. And she gave me a new purpose, she gave me Ivy. 

Ivy is the light of my life. That blonde girl is perfect and every bone in my body wants to protect her. Sometimes I forget she is not mine by blood, now she begins to have mine gestures, and she calls me mom. 

After the revolution I thought everything was going to be okay. It’s not.

I can’t be a nurse in Twelve without the folders from Thirteen, and Thirteen now has bigger problems than me (not to mention Thirteen is not fond of Twelve right now). I don’t have much money, because in Thirteen you don’t need them, the food is free and you have to work for the district, not for you. I have two pieces of clothes because for years I just had a uniform, so Holly had to help me. And as much as I love the place where I was born, I’m not used to it anymore. The sun hurts me after half an hour, there are too many people, it’s unbearable most of the time.

Haymitch quickly becomes the only friend I have except for Holly. He is quiet, silent and he is not coping well with her absence, but he is also caring and he is doing everything in his power to help me. 

I don’t know why I did what I did. Maybe because I saw them at the hob yesterday. Stealing kisses like teenagers, giggling for everything and nothing, and she was on him, sitting on his lap and eating from his plate, feeding him in a restaurant. Undignified. Embarrassing. I don’t have that anymore, I don’t have Antonius and it’s not right. It may not be the kindest thought, and I may not be the kindest person but I lost everything and it hurts.

I don’t know why I kissed him. I’m not even sure I love him anymore. I love sixteen year old Haymitch. But seeing him with another person, with her of all people… 

I didn’t plan it. I’m not an evil mastermind, I just forgot Ivy’s teddy bear picking her up earlier and she was crying her heart out and I needed to sleep so bad. But when I knocked at the door his blue eyes were sparkling and I instantly knew something was wrong, because it’s Haymitch and he rarely cries, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry. When he told me he got into a fight with Daisy I, I stopped thinking. Everything I wanted was there, a stitch to fix everything that went wrong in my life. He could have fixed everything. He could have become a great father for Ivy, a good husband for me. 

But of course Daisy had to be back in that exact moment. Of course she had to see it and be hurt and it doesn't matter if she did the same thing to me months ago, because she is in the right and I’m in the wrong.

And now, I’m the bitch. The slut. The woman who didn’t understand the situation, and Haymitch even talk to me anymore.

DAISY’S POINT OF VIEW

You don’t want to get up. You don’t want to show up and smile and nod, you just want to stay  under the cover to think about your memories.

Yesterday morning, all you have to do is go back to yesterday morning. Just a little step. You remember going into the house with Haymitch, so happy you were back for a whole week instead of two days. You remember his callous big hands stripping you from your clothes and your jeans and top on the floor, his shirt on a chair, his trousers soon following, your giggles and his moans. 

Cuddling after sex was something he never did before you, he confessed one day, and you are very proud of it. You are a cuddler, this is extremely important for you but you suspect he is fond of it too now. When you tried to get out of the bed he quickly tightened the grip.

«My love…» He whispers in your ear, knowing too well how it affects you. He doesn’t say these words often, he calls you Sweetheart or Gorgeous, but not “Love”. “Love” is for the important things. Like when he really, really missed you.

«We have to get ready! For the restaurant!» You remind him, but he dismisses it. His nose is in your hair and you can feel his consent sigh. You want to see his blue eyes that become mysteriously gray when they are full of emotions, but you are cozy like this. The little spoon. Always the little spoon.

«The sheets are more comfortable. You are more comfortable.» He murmurs, physically shielding you from everything. This is the Haymitch you prefer: protective, loving and naked in your bed. His arms are around you and his kisses are soft against your raven hair. A week, a whole week without him.

«The food will be tasty. Think about it, delicious meals and an exquisite dessert… don’t you want to devour it?» You don’t miss the bite he playfully gives you or the bulge in his boxers growing against your core. «Am I turning you on talking about food, Mr. Abernathy?»

This is not really his fault, when you talk to him your voice usually becomes a seductive purr. You wonder if there will be a time when you’ll speak like a normal person to him, even annoyed sometimes. There will come a time when you’ll stop preparing for hours before meeting him? When you’ll stop searching his gaze to see if he is watching you, or you won’t need him close during a party? You don’t know. Definitely not now. 

«You always turn me on, Mrs. Abernathy.» He answers you, his hands going south and if you weren’t still recovering from a shattering orgasm you would be attacking him much worse right now.

«That’s flattering and I will gladly take care of it later, right now I’m hungry.» You remind him. The weekends and your week in Twelve is the only time you can eat properly, and you don’t miss the irony in this. You can eat in Twelve and you starve in the Capitol.

«Let me kiss this pout first…» The giggles that follow are so undignified and goofy it would be embarrassing if someone sees the scene. But you feel really, really happy and when you are happy you like to joke.

«Would you love me if I was a worm?» You ask him, sure he will call you crazy. This is a routine question, and you don’t really need to know it, you just want to annoy him a little. He is hot when he glares at you.

«Born a worm or transformed?» He wants to know instead. He is patting your hair and you lift your head to see him better. To be fair he is glaring at you, but with a look that mixes mockery and fondness. As he is thinking “She is crazy but she is my girlfriend and I love her”.

«Transformed. By a wicked witch.» You invent.

«Then yes. Well, no. I mean, I would protect the worm but it wouldn’t be you anymore.» That makes sense, but it’s not the answer you want from him. Still, he is not the romantic type so you can settle for it. Honestly you’d never thought he could have been such a great boyfriend.

«What if I’m screaming inside the worm’s mind?»

«Then you would be the cutest worm and I will buy you an apple.» He concludes with a kiss on your lips. «You are insane, that’s what you are.»

«You really love me.» You state, with something quite like surprise. He must really love you to put up with this. Not only the conversation, but the cleaning too, the cooking, and the efforts to stay calm in every discussion.

«Yeah, Sweetheart, usually when you marry someone you love them. It would be annoying otherwise.» His tone is mocking, but his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes are sparkling and in this moment you really believe he will love you for worse or for better.

«No, I mean I know but sometimes, like now… I feel it.»

Was it real? He didn’t show up. You almost hoped he would show up in Four, maybe Finnick asked him to, maybe not. You know he called Effie, but not him. Well, if Effie knows it it means he can know where you are.

But you slapped him, a voice remembers you. You feel so guilty about the slap, you feel like you are a bad person.

But he kissed Marjorie.

You always joke about how pretty a girl or a boy is, mostly with him, because you like to see him jealous. You would never act on it, though. He is the love of your life and no one can compare, for you it’s pretty simple. Everyone else is too boring, too… not enough, maybe. Not enough blond, not enough tall, not enough Haymitch.

For him it’s not the same, apparently. And yet you are sure he loved you, so what changed? Is your relationship just about sex now? Is it all over? You want someone who gives you the answers, but you won’t find anybody because only you and him know it. Or maybe just him, because you don’t feel like you know much right now.

Marjorie is fitter for him. She is his age, and this is honestly too much of a fairy tale. They were separated, they reunited, happy ending, the end. Like in one of the movies you like so much. And who are you in this narration? The step along the line, just before the destination? Or are you the wicked witch in the story, and she is the worm? 

She is not the bad guy, you have to remember that. Well now you hate her, but if Haymitch really kissed her too, he is the one to blame. 

You miss him. You miss being in his arms, telling him about stupid things during the day, you miss his humming when he cooks and you even miss the stupid geese. And you want to know better the cat, who is already so attached to Haymitch you don’t think you will ever compare. 

You get it, you grow attached quickly too.

«Come on Daisy, wake up.» 

Finnick’s voice actually wakes you up a little, just because you feel guilty. You see him and Annie in the kitchen, his blue luggage against the door, but they are hugging. Finn is sleeping, you’ve never seen such a calm baby before. 

All the Victor’s houses are pretty much the same, but theirs is near the ocean, so it’s windy and chilly in the morning. You hug your cardigan close to your chest, but you feel the cold in your bones.

«Are you sure you don’t want to come, my love?» He asks Annie, who shakes her head. She is always so grateful, and especially today in her cobalt blue dress. She looks like a fairy.

«Mags will help me here, and she says she is hosting Tigris, so she will be here too.» Oh, Tigris. You wish you could say hello to her. Tigris was a stylist too before President Snow got rid of her, she trained Cinna and Portia, you bet she could teach you something too. «I hate Capitol City.»

«You don’t have to accompany me.» You remind Finnick. You don’t like that he comes with you and without Annie. You admit you rushed into his arms because he is your friend and you do have the tendency of saving each other, but you thought he and Annie would have given you a cup of tea and some cookies. Finnick decided he had to come with you to the city instead, to help you settle your life there. 

«I need to do some stuff in the city anyway, I’ll do it now.»

«Don’t worry Daisy, I can handle it.» Annie adds. You know Annie is strong, but she is also fragile, severely traumatized and Finnick is a great help. You suppose Mags will enjoy her time with her grandson, anyway. And Tigris will help too. You can’t give an age to Tigris, but if she knew Snow from her childhood she must be eighty-something. 

Finnick wants to “rescue you”, he wants you to have fun so you won’t think about him. It doesn’t work that way, but it can’t be this wrong to try it.

On the train you want to sleep a little more, to dream a little more, but he doesn’t concede it to you.

«Effie will host me.» He informs you, and he hands you a bag of chips. You didn’t eat a bag of chips in months, if Capitol City is the only place where you can find them - surely not in Twelve - in the fashion environment this food is considered a sin.

«Poor Effie. Maybe I can pay you a room in a hotel, I have money now.» Well not much. You spent a lot on the wedding, to help Holly and on Effie’s meals, and life in the Capitol is so expensive you didn’t save much. But it’s not right that she hosts him because of you, she is so kind but she’s not working right now.

Well, maybe this is the thing you can focus on. You can help your friends. This way you won’t think about Haymitch and you will do good. You have read a book about this one time and you are sure it ended well. Perla is okay right now, with a new job and a new relationship, but Lora and Effie are the priority.

«Effie adores me.» He counters, and you know what he is doing. He is trying to distract you, and it’s not exactly working but his eyes are so pleading you decide to humor him. He doesn’t need to do all this, the fact that he tries only proves he is a great friend.

«Effie adores me more.» You still deadpan, because Effie is yours.

«I don’t think so, you are just the youngest child.»

«You are so jealous!» And you are jealous too, like you can be jealous of a big sister during a birthday party.

«I’m simply stating facts.» He is not, you are definitely the favorite. «To be serious, though… I always liked her. She was an escort and let me tell you, escorts were not that good. She has always been kind. Capitol, yes, so she was brainwashed and sometimes she showed it, but she was never mean. Not intentionally at least.»

«She sounds like Effie.» You smile. Effie Trinket will always be a mystery for you. How can a person so shallow and superficial can also be selfless and generous? She grew up rich in a lavish environment, and yet she can be compassionate and she empathizes, she is kind, but she is self-absorbed. You have her flaws too, not really sure about her qualities.

«It is rare that someone from Capitol City is so nice. When I was fourteen and I won, most of them watched me like I was a price, not a person. She always saw me as a kid.» You remember his speech in Thirteen and you suppress the urge to hug him, because he would see it as pity and hate it. 

«Can’t you do something for her? I mean me and Haymitch, the government hates us now, but you are still just a hero. She is not in a good place right now. She needs a job! She has always had a job, when she was a teenager she started modeling and then she became an escort. She doesn’t cope well with the fact that she can’t work now. And nobody is going to employ her, because she is the last escort alive and blah blah blah.» 

You are really worked up in your speech and when you see him he is watching you like you have two heads. But he doesn’t understand, you just need a program and then you will fix everything. 

«And you want me to…?» 

«Bribe someone.» You answer bluntly. «Of course you can’t tell her, she needs to think she did it on her own. And in a fair world she would do it so it’s okay, it’s not lying it’s… manipulating fate a little. But for a good cause.»

He rolls his eyes. You can understand his doubts, you two grew up in a world where those who broke the law got their tongue cut.  «That’s against the law.» 

«I know but she is Effie. Our Effie! She would do it for you.»

«I’ll try, okay? I’ll try. But I don’t promise you anything, Daisy, I have no guarantee. I’m still from the districts.»

Try is okay. You can make it happen. Everybody will be happy and you won’t think about your… is he your ex? About Haymitch.

Part one of the mission is on.

[gudvina]

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 6: Admissions (or parallelisms)

Can be read on AO3. <3

74th Hunger Games, part four.

Peeta sat across from him in the sitting room, leaning on the backrest of the couch. He stared at the boy with a frown and assessed his posture and lineaments. For the first time he realized that, apart from their private conversation, which had been enlightening, he didn’t know much about him. Or better, he’d tried to avoid knowing.

“So…?” the boy raised an eyebrow. While the action was meant to convey confusion, Haymitch realized it was a little exaggerated. Sarcasm. Well, this couldn’t be too bad. He’d been wrong when he first judged the boy; there was more to him than he’d thought, and it didn’t surprise him that it had been Effie the one to see it.

His wife always noticed what everyone else ignored.

“So, who are you, Peeta?”

“I’m Peeta Mellark, I’m 16. My parents own a bakery in the Merchant Area of the District, and I work with them when I’m not in school. Despite being quite busy, I’m a good student and am part of a few activities the school has promoted”.

“What do you like about being a baker? Is it your career of choice?” Haymitch feigned a sneer, taking a big gulp from his glass. It wasn’t easy to not care about someone he needed to help. Especially, when he showed his biggest assets.

“Yes. I love that it’s a peaceful career, and, of course, I love the produce. It’s also creative, as cakes do need frosting, and I love making all kinds of designs on them. But don’t get it twisted, it can be hard work. You must remember the recipes, the exact amount of frosting to use, and calculate the timing for both the leavening and the cooking itself” he explained, then leaned closer “Not everyone’s cut for it”.

Haymitch was impressed. The boy wasn’t just a good orator, he had so much charisma he could sell a cow to an estate agent. He did not strike as one to back down from a challenge, and didn’t shy from opening about himself, unlike many before him had done.

He spun stories, stories about the District and Baking and what he liked so far about the Capitol, but managed to keep an air of mystery about him. The boy continued to answer his questions and did not miss one occasion to make it interesting.

Peeta was a natural. Had he been Capitol, he would have been famous for more than his proximity to death.

Choosing Katniss had been the obvious choice, she was the one who had the Capitol in a chokehold, but Haymitch couldn’t pretend anymore that the boy didn’t also have his strengths. If he won, District Twelve would never be at a loss for sponsors.

When the questions were over, Haymitch took a big gulp of his glass, emptying its contents. He stared at the boy again, then spoke.

“You said you wanted to play in her favour, how do you want to go about that?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d tell me”.

He rolled his eyes, refilling his glass. The boy had a point, he knew, but he wasn’t the one interested in sacrificing himself for that girl. Surely, there must be a reason.

“Why would you do that?”

“My family will move on, they don’t need me. On the other hand, hers does. She has people who are waiting for her”.

You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!

He remembered the kids’ fight, before the training sessions. Not only the boy wasn’t needed, as he had two older brothers perfectly capable of following in his father’s footsteps, he wouldn’t be missed either. It filled him with disgust to believe a mother could think so little of her son.

“We can’t play the family card, it would be overdone”. The Capitol was cheesy, selectively picking who and what to care about, and family wasn’t any different. It wasn’t the most valued good in its economy, for starters. Yes, it was important, but few people would prefer to stay with family, instead of partying or socializing with the big names of the city. That was true of a lot of people, outside the elites.

Peeta sighed. His expression darkened, and Haymitch could hear him think. At some point he seemed determined, as if he’d thought of something, but then hesitated.

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if it could work”.

“Anything, please. At this point I’d take anything else”.

“I’m in love with her” the boy blushed.

Oh.

“As in really, I am in real life in love with her. Have been since I was five, but never got the courage to… y’know”.

He knew. He’d been sixteen too, had his girl, and knew how easy that simple affection could feel like. It was new feelings and easy conversations, dreams too big for two kids. But what the boy talked about was… eleven years. And he was willing to sacrifice more than time for Katniss.

As he looked at him in the eyes, he recognised her. Innocent blue eyes, blonde hair, a mix of strength and vulnerability that he’d never seen in anyone else before. Effie. Effie and the majestic way she moved in what she called high society, Effie and the way she looked at him with shiny eyes and a bright smile.

He tried to shake the thought. Wasn’t drunk enough.

The idea wasn’t too bad, it was a new angle to play with and the Capitol loved these things. They loved to follow celebrities and their relationships, and he’d seen it with Crane and Effie. When they were together, you were sure to see them on the first page of whatever magazine was trending, maybe hand in hand in a paparazzi shot, or posing for a big company.

The Capitol held being a busybody higher than its own mother.

“I like it”.

The boy looked at him relieved, and soon they started to rehearse ways to bring the subject up. With the boy’s ability to move through a conversation, they managed to find the right words. Even managed to attempt a few scenarios. Intrigue was the protagonist. He could already hear the ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ of the audience.

“We don’t have much left,” Peeta said at some point. Without even realizing it, he’d spent the entire four hours and did not once get bored.

“Yeah, it’s the girl’s turn. I will have to tell you, boy, you’re not to throw out”.

“Please, do not think about me. I already asked Effie”.

“Oh, that will be a fit harder than you’d think. She likes you a lot”.

“I like her too…” the boy admitted, and Haymitch nodded knowingly. They were very similar despite their obvious differences.

“Well, that’s all nice and dandy, let us see if the ladies are done. Who knows if you’ll still like Effie after your four hours?” sarcasm laced his words, stealing from the boy a tiny chuckle. And, for the first time in years, he was loathe to admit that, just like Effie, he wasn’t indifferent to the kids either.

***

Effie let her hands linger on Katniss’ arm, trying to soothe her. The girl’s interview, despite the weird start, ended on a high note and she was delighted with it. For someone who’d never walked in heels, she didn’t even trip once while twirling. Now, it was time for Peeta’s interview.

His delivery was great, his poise and posture perfectly practised, and, if he felt a twinge of fear from being in front of the audience, it didn’t show. Perfect. He was perfect.

She had no idea of what was said during Haymitch’s four hours, but she quite liked the comparisons between the breads and the tributes, or the skit about the roses. Despite being the one interviewed, Peeta led the conversation. It flowed well. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the showrunner and the boy already knew each other.

“So, Peeta, do you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home?”

He shook his head, looking bashful. It was a weird question, one Caesar didn’t usually ask, and Effie looked at Haymitch, who was staring at the screen, with a frown. A girlfriend?

“Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what’s her name?”.

“Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping”.

It didn’t make sense. How could there be a girl when he told her he loved Katniss, on the terrace? She hadn’t asked a single question about his session with Haymitch, too focused on her task, but now she regretted it. Ceasar didn’t waste time in asking if this mystery girl had another boy, and Peeta answered that a lot of boys went after her.

“So, here’s what you do. You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?”

“I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning…  won’t help in my case”, the boy said with a sad expression.

“Why ever not?”

“Because . . . because . . . she came here with me”. Peeta looked down with a sigh.

The audience gasped in unison, and she found herself doing the same. It was Katniss, after all. Haymitch now looked at her, and she met his eyes. She suspected hers were wider than the world itself, because he

The interview continued for a few more minutes, but Effie wasn’t giving it her whole attention. She was stunned. The doomed lovers trope was new, original, and she couldn’t help but swell with pride for her Victor. A focused Haymitch could be glorious.

Katniss had to leave before them, while they waited for Cinna and Portia.

“Surprise, sweetheart”.

“Oh, Panem be praised, I can’t believe it” she sighed, still not recovered. The high mood lasted only until the crew was reunited and back on Twelve’s floor.

When the elevator’s panels parted, interrupting her conversation with Portia, the first thing she noticed was Peeta. He was on the floor, and his hands were bleeding profusely. Katniss was in front of him, both her hands balled in fists, just staring down at the poor boy. Or glaring. She felt Haymitch tense up beside her, as he usually did when he saw blood, and her panic grew, so she moved to help him. Cinna followed her shortly.

“What happened? Did you fall?”

“After she shoved me!”

The boy was on his feet now, and her attention returned to the girl, who lashed out at Haymitch and Peeta alike for the interview. Haymitch, in turn, tense due to the blood, pinned her to the wall, attempting to shut her up.

“Who cares? It’s all a big show. It’s all how you’re perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you’re a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?”

The girl shoved him away, but, from the look on her face, the rage was over. Effie turned back her attention to the boy and his wounds, spacing out of the conversation.

He’d fallen on a vase whose shards remained stuck on his skin. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it wasn’t nothing. She would have brought him to the clinic herself, and she almost suggested it, but she couldn’t leave Haymitch alone. Breathe in, breathe out. Her focus returned to the present only when the girl apologised to the boy, ending the conflict. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck on her throat and made her nauseous.

It was time for dinner, and Haymitch moved them to the dining room. Anxiety rushed through her veins, making her play with her food more than eat it. She felt how tense Haymitch was and watched Peeta’s hands bleeding non-stop. When it was clear that the blood wouldn’t stop by itself, Portia offered to take him to the clinic. Fortunately, they returned swiftly.

The whole affair was made bearable only thanks to a little small talk with Portia and Cinna, and helped by her escort grin, but otherwise, she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. It was only when the replays were aired, that she understood what was bothering her. It wasn’t just the boy’s injuries, or Haymitch’s state, but the girl’s reaction. It was exaggerated, violent, but… she had a point.

Effie put herself in her shoes. What if anyone did something like that behind her back? Love was a very sensitive subject and, just like the girl, she would have reacted badly. And yes. The way it happened had its perks for Katniss, too many if she had any say in it, but she understood.

When they retired to their rooms, she felt relieved not having to put up a front anymore. She was overwhelmed. Haymitch followed her after a few minutes, finding her wigless and busy wiping her makeup. She was sitting on her vanity and kept her focus on her task.

“That girl was ridiculous” he commented, basically throwing himself on the mattress.

“Put yourself in her shoes, Haymitch”.

“Oh, come on, he did her a damn favour to not tell her. Her reaction was genuine, nobody can say shit”.

“First of all, language” she chastised him, her voice a little harsher than usual “And yes, he did her a favour, a big one. But I understand. Love is not something to play with, it’s extremely personal. I would have liked a warning too if I was her”.

“Even if not telling you meant you’d be protected?”. His voice seemed to be hiding something, but whatever it was she couldn’t guess.

“Yes, I don’t know how I’d react, but surely I wouldn’t be joyous” Effie reflected, but then decided to shake her thoughts away “Anyways… how are you?”

“I’m good” he softened, reaching his arm towards her, a silent plea to join him in bed. Luckily for him, she was done with the process of removing her makeup, so she got up, eliminated the distance between them, and let his arm drag her down with him. In Haymitch’s arms all her worries disappeared.

“You mean well” she corrected him affectionately.

He shifted so his head laid on her chest, and she distractedly combed through his hair with her fingers. It had been a hard night and, with the incoming games looming over them, she knew they’d get only harder.

“Katniss’ interview didn’t go too badly” she mused, remembering Haymitch’s words.

“Nah, but she wasn’t good like the boy”.

“See, that’s why we shouldn’t give up on him yet!”

“Effie, it was his decision, not mine”.

He was tired, and she decided to comply with his silent pleas. She was just about to close her eyes, let Haymitch’s weight and warmth ease her into sleep, when he spoke again.

“Are you angry with me?”. She looked down at him, and for a second confusion took over. Why on earth would she be mad at him, of all people? Then she remembered. His retaliation in response to Katniss’ attacks, his hard words toward the girl.

“No, I am not. Just… next time don’t do it again”.

He chastely kissed Effie’s right breast, stroking her hips. A small way of complying. Years ago, he never did these things. She didn’t remember when he’d started to be gentle, not only seeking her out for sex, but when it happened, she noticed. Whatever changed she did not know.

He dozed off right away, soothed by the rise and fall of her chest. It was then that she kissed his forehead and, sure he wasn’t awake, allowed herself to say what she didn’t dare to voice. The words she could never tell him, unless when he was sound asleep. “I love you”. It was a small whisper, barely audible.

Afterwards, she closed her eyes. And if fatigue hadn’t claimed her, she would have felt his arms tighten around her.

[penisbrigade]

AYO HUNGER GAMES SPOILERS‼️⚠️⁉️🚭❌❌🚳🚯🚭🚫📵🆘🔱❌🚱🚯🛑🚭❔❌🚫⚠️⁉️🚫⚠️🚫❔🚫✅❇️❗️✳️✅

anyways i have seen people yet again missing the point of finnick and his character and what happened to him, going so far as to say they don’t understand why he died because it did nothing for the plot and didn’t move the story forward.

you don’t get it bro, that’s the point. his death had no point. it was cruel and pointless because that is what happens in a war. in real life you don’t sit and wonder how the death of a fallen soldier advances the plot, dude. there doesn’t need to be a reason for every death and the reason for finnicks is there isn’t one. the war is merciless and killing is not something calculated every single time. there is not a situation in which every single character could have possibly survived all of those encounters that would not be obvious fiction because SOMEONE needs to die. and someone will.

many others died and we knew this would happen when katniss and finnick both made a reference to this being “the 76th hunger games” before they went on that mission. in fact, multiple times they referred to this as a suicide mission and quite often discussed that everyone could very possibly die. of course finnicks death came as a shock, as all deaths do, but people saying they didn’t understand why he “needed” to die i feel don’t understand the point of most of the book. not to shit on anyone’s intelligence either, because i understand that often deaths in fiction are used to make a point or add to the plot, and honestly when i first read the book i also questioned it. though my question was more like “WHYYYY WHY GOD PLEADE WHY” and a lot of incoherent nonsense but nevertheless

i did see a tumblr post that i wish i could remember but it was a ss from pinterest many years ago, and it talked about how the pointlessness of finnicks death was, in fact, the whole point, and i remember it every time i hear people saying they felt like there was no purpose for it.

some things just don’t have meaning. that is how life is. most of the deaths in the hunger games had no meaning, but nobody really cared until finnick, often because they were attracted to him (not everybody, but generally these two ideas are found together. people preaching about how handsome he was and how sexy and then going on to complain that he died for no reason. still objectified even after everything, even in death) or, of course, found him more interesting as a character than some of the others.

i wish i knew a better way to explain this so it was easy to understand and my point got across better but i really don’t know how. i’m just tired of this same thing over and over especially with the new influx of hunger games content and stuff and people talking about it more. people die for no reason. that’s just how it works