#I thought I was something of an expert on hunger but this is an entirely new kind.

[sprout-fics]

EM I am begging u for more Omergaverse with all of the world's sprinkles and cherries on top

This has been a long time coming BUT since I've had several people ask I shall provide additional thoughts on the matter

Poly Omegaverse TF141 Headcanons

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Two: The Pack)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, SoapGhost, PriceGaz, Heat/Rut cycles

Masterlist

So lemme start by again reiterating that I am certain of these men's designations

Price is an alpha, always has been. He's a captain, he's a leader, he's extremely skilled by there's also a violence in him that grows dangerous when it threatens something he's sworn to protect. Very Alpha instincts

Simon is an alpha too, built like one to match. He's big, muscular, dark and stormy. He doesn't pay much attention to his designation, but Simon in a rut is a dangerous thing. He's a whiplash of emotion and need that turns to hunger

Soap, being an omega, hid his designation for many years of his service before joining the 141. He, like you as an omega, knows all too well the bias and prejudice against 'weak' omegas in the military. The fact that he's now TF141's resident demolitions expert is an immense sense of pride for him, defying all the things he's been told about how omegas cant achieve the things he has

Two alphas and an omega is a pretty potent mix, which is where Gaz comes in. He's the soothsayer, the diplomat, and though he's prone to being very tongue in cheek sometimes, he also provides a calm for the group that solidifies the bonds involved. He provides a softer edge to Price's sharp leadership that you and the others appreciate

Also, because I'm weak for poly141, I think there's additional nuances to their relationships as well

It's pretty clear early on that Soap and Ghost are a thing. Soap needles his alpha and Ghost is entirely too weak to his charms. Soap knows how to handle Ghost best when he's in a mood, rut or otherwise, enough so that Gaz has joked before about Soap being Ghost's 'handler'

(He only made the joke once because the look Ghost gave him was enough to make him lay ide awake with a knife under his pillow that night)

Price feels a certain amount of protection over Soap as well, partly due to loyalty and partly due to alpha instincts of protecting an omega on his team. Ghost allows it only because he deeply trusts Price, had seen him save the life of his mate more than once. As much as Price and Soap are involved, there's always a bit of an air that Soap was Ghost's first

Granted, Ghost is also fairly protective over Gaz as well. He sees Gaz as part of their pack, a needed component to the bonds they share. It takes a while, but Ghost becomes used to giving Gaz some needed physical touch, and doesn't complain when Soap invites Gaz into a cuddle puddle

Price treats Gaz as if he were his own, because he is. He didn't just take the sergeant under his wing, he took him into his heart too. Gaz's endearing loyalty is a hard thing to find, and Price knows the beta will follow him anywhere if he asked. So he treats him just as well, gives Gaz almost all the things the younger man hopes for in his mate

Gaz and Soap are a pair, and definitely get up to trouble if they are left by themselves. The nonsense is usually Soap's idea, but Gaz is an enabler no matter how much he tries to deny it. Price and Ghost have had to scruff their sergeants on more than one occasion like naughty pups

Between the four of them it's easy for them to divide up into pairs, but there's strong ties that connect them all in varying degrees of complexity, but also trust

Heats and ruts are an entirely different topic

It's made all the more complicated by the fact that the team all have irregular deployments. So ruts and heats aren't always synchronized. Stress is a major factor in altering cycles, and despite the time together, it's not often that they overlap

Soap is used to dealing with heats on his own prior to joining TF141, but has to be reminded by Gaz it isn't healthy long term to do so by himself. It becomes less of a problem once Ghost enters the picture (They literally have to be locked away on a far section of base when their cycles sync because good God)

Even so, Ghost often does alone missions, so there are times when he can't be of much help. He and Price have a long sit-down come to Jesus meeting with Soap where they agree Price will step in as needed. After the first few times the boundaries become a little looser as they get comfortable with each other

Likewise, Gaz acts as intermediary when Soap is unavailable. He's eager to please, but requires some gentler handling than Soap, who thrives off being tossed around in bed. Soap teaches some tips and tricks to gentling both alphas, but especially Simon

It's not uncommon outside of cycles for the boys to get fall into bed either

Gaz and Soap love having fun in bed when they can. Gaz loves getting Soap from his shit-eating, snarky grin into burying his face in the pillows, shaking and pleading, and likewise Soap enjoys treating Gaz as well as he deserves

Price and Ghost having sex is a fairly rare occurrence, and often a carefully constructed one due to their designations. Price recognizes Ghost needs some very specific attention in regards to being topped in bed, which he is more than happy to provide. I personally headcanon that Price doesn't enjoy being topped much, but will do it for Gaz to make him happy

Ghost and Gaz is an entirely different matter. Ghost recognizes Gaz is very different than Soap in bed, and requires different handling. Gaz recognizes that sex with Ghost is intense. A little overwhelming, but always leaves him very satisfied by the end

Price, on the other hand, and Soap? God help him

Soap is a brat, and he knows it. Ghost puts up with it to some degree, but Price has none of it. He knows how to treat Soap right, but he also knows how to make him behave. Simon joins on more than one occasion just to enjoy the sight of Soap realizing he can't pull the same tricks with Price that he can with Ghost

The entire pack is built on communication and trust, and though it takes time for them all to settle into it, the four are more than happy to be each other's mates.

[jjadmanii]

thinking about ppl reading: “I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.” v “I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery.” and still wondering who katniss liked😭😭like ma’am

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 24-25)

katniss being angry that peeta hasn't come to help her before she realises he literally can't

peeta putting his hand up against the wall and her putting hers up to meet him. these two are so angsty romance-coded

"i just stare at his face, doing my best to hang onto my sanity"

peeta holding and rocking katniss on his lap, lifting her chin so she looks at him. husband. he loves her so much.

(as an aside, johanna and finnick basically being katniss's and peeta's older siblings is so adorable. what a cute fun brokem damaged little family)

when katniss finds out that finnick loves a "poor, mad girl back home", i can't not think of the parallels being set up between annie/finnick and peeta/katniss in the next book

ah the beach scene

"everything. that's what peeta wants me to take from him"

"i realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if peeta dies. me"

"i do. i need you"

i'm dead at this point. how can people say katniss didn't love peeta. i got the evidence right here!

So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. 

the idea of peeta trying to talk despite katniss kissing him and then just giving up is too much

the warmth that grows inside of her exclusively due to peeta

the line about a new kind of hunger. bars

she's so down bad for him, and i think she truly realises here, even if she doesn't let herself think about it too much.

finnick waking up and realising the way they're wrapped around eachother and being like... "um get a room? if you want?" is hilarious too

i truly wonder how far they would've gone if they hadn't been interrupted by the lightning bolt. judging by katniss saying there's nothing to stop them this time but them, i think she might've not stopped at all. and the wrapping around each other. i know they were about to cut away in the capitol feeds.

peeta again being husband and making katniss lie down and leading her to bed. "i let him lead me over to where the others are." the "i let him." this books is just a masterpiece in showing the change in their dynamics.

lol at katniss being like "fuck no" at the suggestion of having kids with gale. "for one thing, that's never been part of my plan." like how much clearer has she got to make it. contrasting this to when peeta dropped the baby bomb and she was like: it could be true by now if it wasn't for the games, right? she's so shameless

i honestly feel like crying every time katniss says she thinks of peeta's child safe in the meadows. the fact that it's just peeta's child makes me think that the unnamed, unidentified unspoken of mother, is her. like that's who she's picturing in this fantasy, in this dream.

"when i wake, i have a brief delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with peeta" and she clings to it as long as she can

just something so beautiful that all this talk of love and family and peace and the future is linked with peeta and thus her own happiness. like my heart aches for her.

she can't look at peeta the next morning after their kissing the night before. i think a big part of it was because she just allowed herself to think all these thoughts involving peeta and then came back down to earth very quickly and realised that this wasn't possible for her because of the QQ

the pearl, their inside joke because of effie! the fact they remembered, the fact that they laugh together like this even with everything going on

katniss determining that peeta is her biggest enemy because their desires are the complete opposite when it comes to survival. "i promise myself i will defeat his plan." and even despite them both realising they're at odds, despite peeta not being able to look at her after, they sit together hand in hand.

the pearl and everything it comes to symbolise with these two kills me.

[mswyrr]

Comparison and contrast of Katniss' pov on two kisses she had, with G/ale and Peeta. For me, this highlights clearly the way that Katniss only ever felt desire with Peeta. Katniss outright says it in the pov prose:

"I feel that thing again. That thing I only felt once before [with Peeta]... The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind."

She did not feel desire with Ga/le and his kiss. She outright says it. Bless G/ale, I don't hate him - I have no reason to, he was never even in the running. She loved him as a friend and what happened to their friendship is tragic. But he was never in the running for love of her life.

There was no love triangle in The Hunger Games. There was one love story.

She wanted her dandelion in the spring, her boy who bakes and paints and makes her feel a sweet, consuming desire rise up inside her like nobody else does. The fact that her tastes depart from what women are "supposed to" be attracted to in a man is good actually - why do all female leads with romances with men have to want the exact same thing?

[heavensbeehall]

"I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind." -- Chapter 24, "Catching Fire" by Suzanne Collins

Passages that launched a thousand fics.

Probably the most romantic passage in a book where someone was literally ripped limb from limb earlier in the chapter.

[lot-of-nothing]

Can I Call You Rose? (Ch. 1?)

Chessy x Reader

As the new viticulturist (grape-growing expert) at Nick Parker's vineyard, you fall for a certain nanny. (Post-Parent Trap movie I think)

Warnings: SOFT SMUT (with a little plot and romance)

You wondered if your fingers were going to go numb, or perhaps your heart would just explode first?

You had finally worked up the courage to kiss the auburn-haired beauty mere hours ago and now Chessy’s lips were finally attached to her neck. You had met during your first week as Nick Parker’s head viticulturist. Her warmth was magnetic and you always tried to find reasons to tend to the grapes closest to the house in case you could start a conversation with the nanny. You spent many afternoons together, flirting while she brought you her homemade lemonade or while you walked her around the rows of vines handing her grapes to try. Chessy always seemed to wear a smile when you were near, filling you with butterflies in return. You had been dreaming of this moment since you first met the beautiful woman and now you were filled with pure unfiltered anxiety. 

Chessy’s open mouth kisses to your throat and collarbone were unlike anything you had ever experienced. Were you supposed to crave her as much as you did? There was a fire ignited in the pit of your stomach that hungered for something that felt so forbidden.

As nervous as you were, you wanted more. You needed more. You wanted to feel Chessy’s hands setting every inch of your skin aflame… but the thrum of energy winding through every cell in your being had you wondering if you would have a panic attack or pass out before that could happen. 

“Hon… Hon? Honey!” 

You must have spaced out entirely as Chessy’s voice drew you back to reality. Next thing you knew, Chessy’s hands were now cupping your face, staring intently into your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes brimming with tears as you felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt incredibly embarrassed that you felt that you couldn’t handle the physical intimacy. It was hard when you were so in love with Chessy and lacked the experience you thought necessary to please her.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Chessy’s voice was just above a whisper. She was terribly worried that she had pushed the bounds of your relationship too far too soon. Little did she know that it would be your own slip up that would be the culprit of a ‘too much too soon’ relationship. 

“I-I-I…” You quickly stopped herself short, not wanting to make yourself cry.

“It’s okay… Wanna finish our movie, honey?”

You shook your head furiously, determined to push yourself through the anxiety and nerves.

“Honey…” Chessy seemed skeptical, her hands squeezing your cheeks. The extra bit of care Chessy showed was all you needed to lose your head, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling onto your cheeks.

You stared into your hands, trying to explain to Chessy why you were struggling to get through your anxieties. “I just… don’t- I just don’t know how to pleasure a woman…” 

“Tell you what. Come’re…” Chessy cooed, drawing you in so you could sit between the auburn beauty’s legs. From there Chessy gently caressed your arms, speaking in a firm but gentle tone. “I am going to turn on a different show and you are gonna sit right here and enjoy it, okay?”

You sniffled and nodded, reclining back in Chessy’s arms as an attempt at relaxing. A few moments passed of Chessy tapping away on her phone. The audio sounded off before you even comprehended what was playing, “I hope you are nice and wet for me.”

You certainly weren't expecting Chessy to stream a guided masturbation from her phone onto the television. 

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, “Wha-?”

Chessy’s hands fell to your sweatpants, pulling out the band a couple of inches as she spoke, “I want you to just relax. Just do what she tells you to, okay?”

Your hand was shaking as you pushed it into your sweatpants, never having experienced anything like a guided masturbation before. While daunting, it was incredibly hot.

The audio rang over the tv speakers once more, causing butterflies to swirl in your stomach, “Now, why don’t you see how wet you are for me? Slip your fingers in your panties for me.”

As you slipped your fingers in your underwear, you let out a whimper at first contact with your cunt. What else would you be in for with this nanny? What other tricks were hidden up her sleeves to drive you wild? 

Even though all of your building anxiety, you had grown incredibly wet from Chessy’s touch. You rolled your head back onto Chessy’s shoulder, earning a kiss to your temple as you did. Chessy’s voice was gentle in your ear, “You are doing so well, honey.”

The video instructed you once more, telling you to focus on your clit. Considering the pacing of the video, Chessy must have found a video long enough to help you relax, but short enough that she could find more involvement in your pleasure sooner rather than later. 

Doing as you were told, you circled your clit and felt yourself melting back into the auburn beauty’s arms. What you couldn’t see was Chessy’s smile as she felt the tension in your body fade. Her hands wound up your front, working your t-shirt up your torso to access your breasts.

The audio emanated from the tv was filled with the performer's moans, but you were becoming enraptured by the soft, encouraging hums from the woman behind you. Chessy’s hands drifted up and down your stomach, stopping at your breasts to give a gentle squeeze before shifting back down once more. 

“Let me hear you, sweetie…”

You bit your bottom lip and turned your face into Chessy’s neck, unsure if you were ready to be heard. 

Without a response, Chessy hummed disapprovingly, her hand slipping its way into your sweatpants and then underwear in search of your wetness. At the feeling of her fingers mingling with yours in your cunt, you withdrew your hand and dropped it to your side to allow her to take over. You couldn’t keep yourself from softly sighing at the feeling of her gentle fingertips working against your clit. 

“God, you are so wet…” Chessy whined at the way your wetness coated her fingers. 

You bucked your hips up into her hand, desperately wishing for this sensation to last forever. With her arms around you, fingers dancing around your clit, and her hot breath against your neck, your head was spinning. You couldn’t help but moan before blurting your thoughts to Chessy, “You- you’re so beautiful…” 

“Mmm… thank you, honey.” Chessy cooed, her arm winding around your waist to cradle you close as her fingers continued working against you. Your entire being was set aflame by Chessy’s loving embrace and skilled fingers. 

Your breathing rate was growing faster and faster, the coil in your stomach tightening as you grew closer to your orgasm. 

Chessy’s teeth nipped at your earlobe, tenderly nibbling as she added extra pressure as she circled your clit. Her voice came as a soft whisper, forcing warmth to spread across your face. “I can feel you getting close. You are so beautiful when you fall apart like this for me.” 

“Fuck, I love you~” You exhaled, not registering your words while your hands clung to her forearm. 

Sadly, you were too lost in the throes of your eminent orgasm to notice her lack of a response. She only nuzzled you with her cheek and held you tight as your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched and your hips thrashed, unable to contain yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you let out a lengthy moan, trying to enjoy every ounce of the orgasm Chessy guided you through. 

Chessy sighed with a soft smile and withdrew her hand from your pants. She was trying to ignore her own anxiety building from her lack of response to your omission of love. While she felt she loved you as well, it all felt like too much too soon. In years past, she had dove head first into relationships and had only been burned in return. She had no intention of ruining your relationship over the omission of her own feelings. 

“How do you feel?”

“Mmm… good.” With a deep breath, you roll over in her arms, pressing your cheek near the base of her sternum. You tucked your hands under her wide hips and enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together. “How do you feel about me returning the favor?”

Chessy pushed her anxieties deep down, not wanting to ruin a perfect moment. She had been falling for you since you started at the Parker estate. “Maybe in the morning…”

“Are you sure? I would love to-”

There was that word again. It made Chessy’s stomach drop. 

“No. It’s really okay. We could just… finish our movie.”

She seemed curt in her reply. It lacked the typical warmth you always received from her. It made you terribly self conscious until her hands wandered to the skin of your back, drawing loopy circles with one hand while her other turned the tv back to your movie.

“Mmm… you better be careful or I’ll fall asleep.” You murmured, testing the waters of how likely it would be for you to spend the night with the nanny. 

“Whatever shall I do. I would hate for someone so cute to be in my bed when I woke up.” Chessy was being incredibly sarcastic, her hands continuing to scratch your back in lazy loops. 

You allowed your own hands to wander her hips and thighs as a different form of self-soothing. You obsessed over the soft dips of cellulite and the slopes created by the widening of her hips. Her baggy clothing hid the curves you wanted to memorize through all of your senses. 

Chessy’s eyes drifted shut as she pushed herself to enjoy your loving touch. It was hard for her to accept such unadulterated affection, but she desperately wanted to try. It felt so good for her to be wanted and desired, but the vulnerability required for a deep and meaningful relationship lurked in the back of her mind. 

[bestloversfan]

We're in 2023, and there are still people trying to argue that Katniss was aro/ace and never felt romantic/sexual attraction for Peeta... 🤦🏻‍♀️ I could write a long meta about this for the milionth time, but this time I'll do something different. I'll just show some quotes from the books.

If she was unable to feel romantic/sexual attraction and only ever had platonic feelings for him, what are all of these quotes supposed to mean?

"He gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me." (The Hunger Games)

"This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another." (The Hunger Games)

"So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,’ says Peeta. For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love." (The Hunger Games)

[...]"His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don’t notice much because they’re so blond. But up close in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they’re a light golden color and so long I don’t see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks.

One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever done anything normal together.” (Catching Fire)

"I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this." (Catching Fire)

“When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight to them. It’s the first time since they announced The Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tighly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in closer and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I won’t be the first to let go." (Catching Fire)

"I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.

'I do', I say. 'I need you'." (Catching Fire)

"I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down.

This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind." (Catching Fire)

"When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta." (Catching Fire)

"I sit next to Peeta on the sand to eat my rolls. For some reason, it's difficult to look at him. Maybe it was all that kissing last night, although the two of us kissing isn't anything new. It might not even have felt any different for him." (Catching Fire)  

"I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself." (Mockingjay)

"I’m light-headed with giddiness. What will I say? Oh, who cares what I say? Peeta will be ecstatic no matter what I do. He’ll probably be kissing me anyway. I wonder if it will feel like those last kisses on the beach in the arena, the ones I haven’t dared let myself consider until this moment." (Mockingjay) 

“Sometimes when I’m alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena. To make myself put a name to the thing I've lost. But what's the use? It's gone, he's gone. Whatever existed between us is gone." (Mockingjay)

"Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me." (Mockingjay)

"On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. [...] So after, when he whispers, 'You love me. Real or not real? I tell him, 'Real'." (Mockingjay)

There's more quotes like that, but I think these are enough. Now, can you all please stop pretending that these quotes don't exist and accept the fact that there's canon evidence refuting the belief that Katniss was aro/ace and never felt romantic/sexual attraction for Peeta? 😑

[hekateinhell]

Louis/ Lestat/ Armand: “ I want to go home.” 

for the five sentences writing meme!

in my heart this takes place shortly post-BC ♥

It's nonsensical, Lestat knows this.

He was home.

Home at Auvergne, home in this castle with its stone walls. And yet the thought sprung unbidden into his mind with all the urgency and anguish of a lost child: "I want to go home..." Skittering like an insect in his skull, knocking the breath out of him, almost causing him to shatter in the pen gripped tightly in his hand. The instinct to flee from the intensity of emotion making every muscle in his body tense in expectation of an imaginary blow.

There's something though, some nagging and grudgingly formed sentiment of self-preservation that's guiding him now, urging him to his senses to hone in on the two hearts in the entire castle that mean the most to him.

His refuge, the two beings whom Lestat's hurt the most in his long immortal life and who have hurt him back just as much. The two who have loved him the most over the past two hundred years and whom Lestat has loved every bit in return.

It's a hypnotic sound, galvanizing him right out of his chair and down the corridors—a man in a trance, Sleeping Beauty to the spindle—the dual heartbeats of Louis and Armand pulsating in perfect sync and in close proximity.

He finds them in Louis's rooms, of course. Utterly nude and tucked up into a semblance of mortal slumber in the ornate four-post bed. Lilies in a vase on the bedside table lending a heady perfume to this lovers' tableau.

Lestat bit his lip.

Armand had always been more successful at getting Louis to shed his maddening façade of morality and decorum. But that was Armand's way, wasn't it? The expert seductor.

You're thinking much too loudly, Armand's soft telepathic voice cut through the turmoil in Lestat's weary head.

Am I, imp? there's no bite to it, the events of the past couple weeks having left Lestat feeling thoroughly declawed.

Join us, Lestat. The only thing stopping you is you. Armand batting his sooty lashes up at him from his prone position, a greedy tease.

Auburn hair splayed out over Louis's narrow chest, pale apple cheek pressing onto the dark hair there, bare thigh slung casually over Louis's hip, delicate fingers still clinging to inky curls at the nape of Louis's neck.

And Louis! How exquisitely did his beauty shine with a dark flush of blood highlighting the dramatic planes of his aristocratic face, long lashes casting shadows over angular cheekbones as he dreamt mortal dreams.

An electrifying thrill jolts through Lestat when he recognizes the source of the blood in him, making the connection between Armand's pallid little face and Louis's seemingly living one, blissed in repose.

His throat suddenly burning with the need to taste Louis and Armand as one, as if Lestat's never had a drink in his life. Hunger almost too much to bear because it's really a combination of the three of them that he's smelling: his powerful blood in Louis's veins now melded with Armand's to create the most intoxicating fusion.

He sees himself in Armand's mind as he crawls towards them on all fours like a starving panther, something feral and desperate. Pupils blown wide, mouth open and fangs peeking out in anticipation, delirious with indecision as to which one he will claim first, craving the fervent delight of the conquer.

Lestat's only thought, only idea, only discernable desire is to ravage them, devour them whole, make for Louis and Armand a home inside of himself so that he may never feel homesick again.

[campgender]

I am eight months pregnant. It’s a summer night and I’ve curled my girlfriend’s fingers around my own and led her to our bedroom. I have become an expert at making love to my girlfriend. A dozen years of perfecting the dance. I know exactly when to bite her skin, when to caress her, when to pound her, and when to hold her. I know how to move inside, and I know how to rub and pull and make her body rise.

It’s hard to find a position to reach her. Should I sit cross-legged or on my knees or lie on my side? What angle affords me the longest timeframe before my legs or arms get cramped and I lose steam? I twist into a spot and push all the blankets off the bed. I get to work. I feel my confidence return; I feel a little butch again. Even if I barely sense the warmth of my own body, I can take good care of my femme, and I am proud of that. But my fingers begin to go numb.

It’s been happening for the last couple of months. I lose feeling in my right hand. The nerve is squeezed somewhere in my arm, and the midwife and Google tell me it’s a common side-effect of pregnancy. Damn it. I depend on the delicate precision of my fingers. I hunger to touch and feel my girl. Damn. I don’t stop moving my fingers. I can tell by the rhythm of my lover’s breathing that they continue to do the job. I close my eyes and concentrate. I depend on the focus of my brain, even as my fingers lose all feeling.

Is a butch still a butch without her clothes, her body, her libido, her physical strength? Who was I in those moments? I felt far away from other butches and far away from myself. I felt calm, too. The pregnancy, despite its limitations, was peaceful. The hormones had kicked in. The urgency left my bones. I could feel the bliss of the new life in my body as my mind drifted into daydreams of the birth. I inhabited a spacey land, where I didn’t care about anything except the movement of the baby inside. But as much as I enjoyed the tranquility, I might have panicked if I thought it would go on forever. For my entire life, my knowledge of the world has been grounded in a sense of myself as a butch. When I couldn’t see myself any more, I became a body without any meaning attached to it. I felt vague, adrift.

Hilary takes portraits of me. She puts on a sun dress, lifts her heavy black Nikon, and stretches her arms. When she photographs you, she leads your body from one position to the next as she snaps the shots.

“Sit on the chair. Now stand, straddle it,” she directs. “Lift your head, turn, now look away, and turn back once more. Good.”

She searches a body, a face, the eyes for something she understands about its history, vulnerability, desire. You could stand right next to her and take a photo of the same person, but you wouldn’t be able to capture the intimacy of her images.

On the day before my due date, I gather all the butch garments that will still cover my body—a tie, leather suspenders, XXL T-shirts, stretchy blue jeans, an exercise bra—and head outside. It is a cool summer day, cloudy, the sunlight is diffused evenly across our backyard patio. Perfect photo weather, according to Hilary. It’s a last chance to catch the picture of my pregnant body.

I slip in and out of clothing quickly, avoiding the curiosity of the neighbours in the apartment building beside us. They are busy with their barbecue; the smells of charcoal and burgers float over us.

Hilary guides me methodically through the shots. I look past the reflection on the lens, into the tiny hole of the aperture, and wait for the instant when the shutter snaps open and shut. I can see Hilary there, following the lines of my body. I sit up. I raise my chin. I smile. I look at her shamelessly with lust. I reach behind my head and lie down. I curl up into a ball. I give her my fiercest face. I frown. I plead. I worry. I daydream.

I find myself on my girlfriend’s contact sheets. I find myself through her eyes: a femme’s vision of a butch. In some shots, I don’t look pregnant at all. I still look like the young boyish dyke she picked up a dozen years ago. In others, my belly is bigger than a basketball. My proportions are alarming. My skin looks soft. My face is tired but relaxed. My gaze is vulnerable. My dark eyes are wide open, inviting her to capture me, but carefully—please be careful. I don’t look like other pregnant women. I look like an entirely different creature. A queer creature. A beautiful creature.

from “A Beautiful Creature” by Karleen Pendleton Jiménez, published in Persistence: All Ways Butch & Femme, ed. Ivan E. Coyote & Zena Sharman (2011)

[xcherryerim]

“Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.”

KATNISS FUCKING SAID THAT ABOUT PEETA HELP LIKE EVEN BOOK PEETA KNOWS HOW TO KISS GOOD ARGH 😫

[wearelondonhq]

Time for a meme! If you want to take part all you have to do is reblog this post. Remember if you reblog to send them out to those who also do. Meme lasts from today (30/11) to the next Friday (08/12)! As always, please have fun and happy meme day!

HUNGER GAMES SAGA SENTENCE STARTERS:

❝  it takes 10 times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart .❞

❝  i wish i could freeze this moment , right here , right now , & live in it forever .❞

❝  no one really needs me .❞

❝ remember , we’re madly in love , so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it .❞

❝  you love me . real or not real ? ❞

❝  stupid people are dangerous .❞

❝  you don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope .❞

❝  you’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug .❞

❝  my nightmares are usually about losing you .❞

❝ you're mine and i'm yours. it's written in the stars.❞

❝  you’re not leaving me here alone .❞

❝  well , i don’t have much competition here .❞

❝  you here to finish me off , sweetheart ? ❞

❝  because i’m selfish . i’m a coward .❞

❝  you & me , we’re even . no more owed . you understand ? ❞

❝  i’m the kind of person who , when she might actually be of use , would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn’t follow to suffer and die .❞

❝  the kisses have the opposite effect , of make my need greater . i thought i was something of an expert on hunger , but this is an entirely new kind . ❞

❝  kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there .❞

❝  i am in pain . that’s the only way i get your attention . ❞

❝  i’m not going anywhere . i’m going to stay here and cause all kinds of trouble .❞

❝  you know , you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him/her/them .❞

❝  at some point , you have to stop running & turn around and face whoever wants you gone .❞

❝  you’re not going . i forbid it . all right ? ❞

❝  well , you’re a piece of work , aren’t you ? ❞

❝  isn’t it strange that i know you’d risk your life to save mine , but i don’t even know what your favorite color is ? ❞

❝  you are my life .❞

❝  you have no idea . the effect you can have .❞

❝  if desperate times call for desperate measures , then i am free to act as desperately as i wish .❞

❝  so when did I become so special ? ❞

❝  i thought we had an agreement not to lie to each other. ❞

❝  jealousy is certainly involved . ❞

credit goes to @justanotherrpmeme.

[jjadmanii]

everyone: katniss didnt have feelings for peeta until the very end of the saga

katniss’s diary entry #54: “i thought i was something of an expert on hunger, but this was an entirely new kind” AFTER KISSING PEETA 🤨💀💀💀

[francisforever2014]

anyways i just finished reading the bombing + rescue in mockingjay :(

top things to kys to:

prim going back for the catttttt :(((((( me when she’s just a little kid and she’s so caring and young and somehow so innocent yet wise at the same time :((((

+her being the one to tell katniss what snow is doing to her with peeta and katniss lamenting about not watching over her as much as she used to :(

katniss + finnick :( ough the bonding . ough them talking about being broken by being taunted by those they love :( how they both wished their loved were dead instead of suffering through this limbo

katniss and haymitch you don’t get ITTTTTT the way that after she realizes that she can’t be the mockjay anymore bc it reflects back in peeta and breaks down the only one she wants to comfort her is haymitch bc he’s the only one who loves peeta too AUGGGH

+ finnicks story . and how katniss asks haymitch if that happened to him and he says no bc when he got back from the games his whole family and girlfriend were dead to punish him for the forcefield . kms . haymitch saying they had nothing to hold over him after that and katniss saying until her and peeta came along ……

and worst of all . when they get back from rescuing the tributes and katniss’ internal monologue is so hopeful and happy . her wondering what it will be like to see peeta again and hoping he’ll kiss her and that it will feel like it did in the quell (of i thought i was something of an expert in hunger but this is an entirely new kind FAME) and how she runs towards him and he towards her and she thinks he’s gonna cup her face . and then . well :(

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Remembrance Chapter 10

Here is the latest chapter of my Armand/Daniel fic Remembrance. Or you can read it below

Louisiana is a closed record state, so Daniel can't even do any research to pass the time. It leaves him with his thoughts, which is a dangerous thing. It's been a hell of a day.

He resigns himself to getting some sleep, when there's a knock on his door. Daniel sighs deeply. “Go away, Armand.”

“It's me.”

Louis' voice. Daniel gets up from his seat and goes to the door. Louis is on the other side, looking almost shy. Daniel leans against the door frame. “Did he send you?”

Louis holds up his hands. “I'm here on my own.”

Daniel steps back and gestures Louis to come in. Louis doesn't move. “I was hoping we could continue the interview.”

Daniel eyes him carefully. He seems...fine. Closed off, distant. He's like a ghost walking again. Daniel is no expert, but he figures it can't be healthy. “You up for it?”

Inwardly, he curses himself for worrying about Louis. He shouldn't. Louis certainly didn't worry about him all those years ago, when he and Armand let him go. Louis smiles a small smile that doesn't meet his eyes. “Are you?”

“Let me grab my stuff.”

A few minutes later, they're in the living room ready to record.

“For Claudia, all humans died with Charlie.”

Daniel isn't sure they were ever really alive for her, not after she got turned. But he keeps that thought to himself. He listens to Louis talk about fear of a hunger strike, of discovering Claudia was killing and keeping souvenirs, of the police searching the house. Then of the fight between them and Claudia leaving.

“I had no words for her. What words were there?” Louis says. “It all happened so fast. I was trying to save you. All vampires are born out of trauma.”

Louis, who has been sitting so still on the edge of the couch shifts and leans closer. “We made her out of remorse...out of selfishness.”

“Poor dear. She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.”

Louis shakes his head. “She spent every night for half a decade with no friends, locked in the emotional storm of puberty.”

Does Louis know how he sounds? He speaks of her like she was a victim—and in some ways she was—but it hardly dissolves her of guilt. The girl was a monster; Louis treats her like she was still human.

“Look, Charlie Manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs. Still, he was Charlie Manson.”

Louis meets his gaze. “Is that all you think of her?”

The thing is, as a character she's likable. Sympathetic, to a certain degree. But Daniel doesn't know her; he doesn't have fatherly affection to cloud his judgment. “Mostly. I also think she makes you and Frenchy look like a couple of whiny, existential queens. Probably why she's a fucking gold mine. The girl who moves a million books.”

Louis looks noticeably bothered by the remark. Daniel might feel bad, if he wasn't still so pissed off about this entire scenario.

“I won't have her exploited.”

Daniel can understand that. It's his daughter. But he has to know he can't control how people see her. “Won't matter what your intentions are. It's the world out there now. She's the single shooter, X-box, mouth-breather shit they crave.”

“You can put the diaries in a proper context.”

Oh.

Louis trusts him with this. Daniel can see now why he chose him to do this interview. He knows Daniel cares about him, and he thinks it will make him show more care. Even after all these years, he trusts Daniel not to do something to hurt him. It's...incredibly frustrating, actually. He let Daniel walk away; he doesn't get to ask for favors.

“Context? Sure,” Daniel says. “Warn the world about a forthcoming apocalypse. Or maybe inspire a line of sexy Claudia Halloween costumes. Or a cool dismemberment trend amongst the suburban Sylvia Plath set.”

Louis keeps scraping a nail against the couch. He's already split a gash in the fabric. This turn of conversation is obviously upsetting him, but he has to understand what he's in for. “Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.”

Louis picks up a journal and drops it beside him. “Keep reading.”

“Keep talking,” Daniel counters.

Louis does, saying how in the coming years he longed for Claudia, ached for her. How he sent out telepathic messages, but she had closed her mind to him. Daniel gets it; he remembers calling out to Armand after the many times he left, begging to come back home.

It seems Claudia was stronger than him.

/

It's been nearly a month since Daniel left and he's miserable. He's sleeping on a park bench, because his hotel kicked him out this morning for not being able to pay. He had only brought a few grand in cash with him to live off of. The idea had been to find a job, then find a place to live. So far he's had luck with neither.

And the dreams have started. Dreams of Armand, nearly every night now. Not that Armand will ever admit that he sends them. Not that he'll admit he wants Daniel to come home. No, he waits for Daniel to be desperate and begging before he lets him back.

“Armand, I need you. Come for me. Come take me home.”

There's no answer.

Christ, he feels like shit. He hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday, when he ran out of cash. His head is pounding and his eyes hurt. He needs a drink. (What he really needs is Armand's blood, but he's not going to think of that.)

If only he had some spare change, he could use a payphone to call Armand. Beg him to send one of the planes to take him home. Daniel misses home.

“Armand, I want to be with you.”

He should have called last night. He'd woken up late after a dream of Armand, woken up hard and wanting. Only stubborn pride had kept him from reaching out. But he knew he'd be back. Didn't he always go crawling back?

At least it's warm tonight. He won't perish in his sleep from the elements. Of course, he might get robbed or worse. And wouldn't Armand feel guilty then for ignoring him? Daniel almost wishes he would get hurt, just to spite him.

“Please, boss. I miss you.”

The silence isn't any less frustrating for being expected. Eventually, Daniel does fall asleep. He wakes to a hand on his arm and the tingle of another mind pressed to his. Hope surges in Daniel and he sits up, eyes flying open. The image of Louis greets him, wearing jeans and a zip-up hoodie. Daniel can see his Grateful Dead t-shirt peeking out from the partially open zipper. Daniel wanders if he's wearing it because he missed him. If Armand misses him too.

“Not who I expected.”

Louis smiles slightly. “Hello, Daniel.”

“Hey Louis. You come to take me home?” Daniel swings his legs off the bench and stands up. It's dark out, but there's a lamppost not too far away that's shedding light. Louis looks good; he has that glow that means he's just eaten. Shame, Daniel would have let him snack on him.

“I have. We need to talk.”

Uh oh. “That why it's you, not Armand?”

A thought strikes Daniel. Louis would have to been on the way to get him hours before he called out to Armand earlier. So either Armand had always intended to bring him home and just let him suffer in silence because he was a bastard, or Louis came of his own accord to get him.

“Don't worry; he knows I'm here,” Louis assures. He starts walking away and leaves Daniel to follow. Daniel shoves his hands in his pockets and saunters behind him. The view of Louis from behind is one he's missed. The man has an ass that won't quit.

They only walk a short while before coming to the sleek, black Rolls-Royce parked in the small lot near the park. Daniel had expected the limo and the chauffeur, but this is nice. “Can I drive?”

“Hell no,” Louis says and slides into the driver's seat. He's been wary of letting Daniel drive since he crashed the Mustang a few months back. In his defense, he had been high off his gourd at the time and arguing with Armand. Driving away had seemed the only option at the time; he had just needed some space. Armand had been furious with him for putting his life in danger.

Daniel sinks into the passenger seat and immediately starts fiddling with the radio. He stops it at a station playing an Aerosmith song. Steve Tyler crones about it being the same old story while Louis stares at Daniel.

“You should probably watch the road. Precious cargo and all that.”

Louis flicks his eyes back to the road and says Daniel's name.

“Yeah?”

“You know Armand isn't the only one who misses you when you leave.”

Daniel feels his face go warm. And it's not like he doesn't know Louis is fond of him. Hell, they've fucked enough times to prove it. But they both care about Armand more, and Daniel isn't always sure where that leaves them. Friends who fuck (sometimes) seems too glib to convey the magnitude of what it is. Yes, Daniel is Armand's, but he and Louis are partners of a kind too. They're together in their own way, one completely different than what he has with Armand. So when Daniel leaves, he's leaving Louis too.

Daniel runs a hand through his hair and looks away from Louis. “Shit, man. I know, I'm just...”

He trails off. Things with Armand can get difficult. It's hard to explain. “Sometimes I just need to escape, you know? He can be a lot.”

Daniel fiddles with the radio just to have something to do with his hands. He ends up on a station playing 'Wild Horses' by the Rolling Stones. Louis likes the Stones, so he leaves it there.

“He can,” Louis agrees. “But next time things get to be too much, come talk to me, okay? Don't just leave without saying goodbye.”

“Yeah, I-ah, I can do that.”

Then, acting on impulse, Daniel leans over and kisses Louis on the cheek. It's more affectionate than he and Louis usually are. Outside of sex they don't really touch each other that much. Louis must like it, because he catches Daniel by the chin and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “I'd kiss you proper, but I gotta keep my eyes on the road.”

He's grinning as he says it. Daniel grins back at him and asks “Hey, want me to give you road head?”

/

Daniel reads Claudia's journal, her recount of meeting another vampire, Bruce. Except there are pages missing.

“There are four pages torn out.”

Louis seems impatient when he says “I'll repeat myself; I will not exploit her.”

“Did she tear them out? Doesn't seem like something she would do.” Daniel knows that he's provoking Louis, but he can't bring himself to care.

“It's clear what happened.”

Does Louis really think he's going to try to exploit her assault? And didn't he say he was doing this to give her peace? He needs to hear what she says for that. “And she wrote about it, and I'd like to read it.”

“No.”

“When you do that, Louis, when you editorialize, however noble the reasoning, it calls into question the other shit you're shoveling my way,” And boy, isn't there enough of that. “Or maybe you can recite it from memory, as you've demonstrated before.”

Daniel knows he's probably pushing Louis too hard, but he's here to get the truth. The whole truth. Even the ugly parts. “Uh, let's see. 'Bruce walked back from the fire and leaned down over me and...Torn out pages.”

Something shifts in Louis' expression and there's a hardness in his eyes. Daniel feels his hand begin to shake inside the glove he's wearing. It hurts. He grips it with the other hand and tries to hold it down on the seat beside him.

“Don't ask again,” Louis says, eyes boring into him. Daniel's hand keeps shaking.

Only a second later, Armand is sweeping into the room and placing a hand on Louis' shoulder. Louis' eyes close and his hands go out in front of him. Daniel's hand slows its shaking then stops.

“Louis finds it difficult to talk about Claudia,” Armand says.

“Got that,” Daniel says, glancing up at Armand. It's strange to see Armand trying to keep the peace. From what Daniel remembers, generally Louis played peace keeper.

Armand is trying to apologize for Louis, but Daniel ignores him. He gets up and slaps Louis across the face. It's extremely satisfying, even if he knows it can't actually hurt him.

Louis turns his face into it, so at least Daniel doesn't break a hand in the process. But that hardly gains him back any points. He crossed a line. They stare at each other for a hate-filled moment, then Daniel sits down.

“Still recording.”

[blueboyluca]

Chapter 16 is just endless anecdotes about how Stella can communicate in button-perfect English.

Even though I just added these three words, I had always used them in my natural vocabulary when I talked to Stella. Stella was no stranger to these words; this was just the first time she had the chance to use them as well.

Hunger’s explanation for how Stella apparently knows words is as infuriating as ever. This is the exact kind of explanation I see on Instagram from multiple dog buttons accounts. They just assume that the dog knows the meaning of the word because it’s a word they (the human) uses often. I use a lot of words often with my dogs, they are no stranger to many words, but that doesn’t automatically prove my dogs understand the meaning of those words, or would be able to use them to communicate back.

This time, after I was vacuuming the living room for about three or four minutes, Stella ran from the bedroom over to her board. She sped right past me, barely making eye contact with me and avoiding the vacuum. "All done all done," she said. I turned the vacuum off. Stella wagged her tail. Her ears went straight back against her head. "Happy," she said.

Another extremely questionable anecdote.

The patterns of language she was using were consistent and predictable. She said words at the times when they made sense. She did not say "eat" in the middle of the day or combine words that did not go together like "beach bed," "good mad," "bye bed," "water park," "walk water," and so on.

How can I trust this is true? There is no data here. There is no inclusion of examples where the meaning of the communication was unclear. I am just supposed to take all of this as fact. I am just supposed to accept it because Hunger is saying so. I am just supposed to believe that Stella is definitely using words in deliberate phrases that make contextual sense, and that she never makes combinations that would be unclear or linguistically nonsense. I’m supposed to believe this fantasy that Hunger has constructed.

If we did not understand her, she tried saying what she meant in a different way, or she repeated her message.

It's telling that we don’t get examples of what these different ways of saying something are.

I don’t know – doesn’t it say something that the leaders in the field of dog training and behaviour have largely ignored Hunger for Words? Doesn’t it say a lot when these experts with years of experience and education brush past questions about these buttons, with brief comments of operant conditioning before changing the subject? I guess conspiratorial thinking would argue that “big dog training” is trying to cover it all up, but the more realistic explanation is that the leaders in the field recognise this as scientifically unsound and prefer to ignore it. Right? Like, I hardly ever see experts talk about this. (Probably because it’s a load of bunk!)

Stella was tired, she stretched along her board, saying words slowly with significant pause time between each one. It reminded me of when I wake up in the morning and yawn and stretch as I talk.

What was it Mirk once said? Hunger read On Talking Terms with Dogs challenge.

Stella even came up with her own ways to talk about concepts she did not have a specific word for. For example, she started saying, "bye eat" to request the Kong toy we filled with peanut butter every time we go to work.

Kill me.

Honestly, I can’t give more examples. This entire chapter is just like this. It sucks.

I wanted this story to spread because of the messages it represented. Everyone deserves a voice. And dogs say and think about so much more than we ever thought they could.

I’m sorry but this is laughable. This book is not about Stella or dogs. It’s about Hunger and her ego as a speech therapist. She has not demonstrated interest in dog behaviour and dog communication. She has only demonstrated interest in teaching Stella AAC, as an example of how clever Hunger is herself.

Stella’s commitment to her own wants and needs inspired me. She did not back down from her own desires when I tried taking her where I wanted to go. This was further proof to me that Stella’s sole purpose in life was not to do what we say. She had her own mind and ideas. Everyone has the right to their own opinion and their own wants. Now that I saw firsthand that Stella had a specific vision for her playtime, and did not appreciate me trying to change it, I tried finding a balance between what Stella wanted and what Jake or I wanted and talking about it first.

Hey, guess what? I managed to do all this with my dog without a single button available to us.

Chapter 17 is like a nothing chapter where she talks about becoming famous. She does not mention any criticism or skepticism.

Chapter 18 is a clumsy attempt to bring a conclusion to this insane story.

What would have happened if Thomas Edison gave up on his experiments because someone else did not share his vision? What would have happened if the Wright Brothers allowed other people’s ideas of what was possible to stop them from trying something new? All great ideas and discoveries come not from focusing on "what is," but from imagining what "could be." After all, as Albert Einstein said, "Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." I choose to live in a world where visions of what “could be” are celebrated and prioritized.

Once again, the ego on this woman.

I am a firm believer that our beliefs about the world shape our own individual experiences. I challenge you to think in terms of possibilities instead of problems. Ask yourself, What if it does work? What if the results are even better than I thought? I challenge you to look at the world through the lens of untapped potential everywhere you turn. I challenge you to follow your curiosities, no matter how wild or unlikely they may seem at first. I challenge you to let go of all the excuses you can think of for why something couldn’t work and hold on to the reasons why it could. At the start of any pursuit, you have no idea what it could become.

Seriously fuck off. There is nothing scientific about this. I would love for someone to do this properly, to actually see if dogs can communicate with speech. But that’s not at all what Hunger has done. She has believed something so much that she has now accepted it as truth. And this stuff at the end about challenging people to follow curiosities and let go of excuses is a bunch of nonsense. It’s a very convenient way to slide past any criticism. Hunger is basically putting her fingers in her ears and saying, "La la la I can’t hear you, my dog can talk la la la."

Stella opened my eyes to the glaring similarities between dog and human communication skills.

No, she didn’t. You haven’t paid attention to dog communication skills at all. You’ve superimposed human communication skills onto your dog.

So that's it. I'm going to put my final thoughts in another post.

[agentem]

So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again.

The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us.

And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. 

-- Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins