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[centurypaper]

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[smartpackagingcompany]

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[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[mallowmaenad]

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

Previous chapter

Chapter 2

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The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

[leiascully]

A fic I’ve wondered about…Mulder and Scully actually going to a movie together. Mostly because one of them lost a bet and has to go with the other to a movie of their choice. This happens early on in the partnership…Mulder makes Scully go to Jurassic Park. She nit picks the hell out of the science. So he, in a show of attempting to even the balance - he makes out he’s doing her a favour when really he just likes going out anywhere with Scully - he lets her pick the next one. She picks Sleepless in Seattle. The conversation after that one could lead….anywhere 🥰

Hmm, yes, excellent. I hope you wanted 2000 words of silliness because that's what's under the cut.

There’s a tap on her motel door. Scully twitches the curtains aside. It’s Mulder, slouching in jeans and a white t-shirt, looking like someone posed him against the background of lush summer green. She unhitches the chain and lets him in. Sticky-hot air rolls in after him, a humid swirl of honeysuckle and cut grass.

“How’s the report?”

She sighs and takes off her glasses. “The report is finished.” There wasn’t much to report, in the end: small town secrets, black light ghosts. All the evidence was there from the start, but the sheriff’s nephew was never going to be charged unless someone else stepped in. The only surprise was the support he got from the valedictorian, concocting hallucinogens in the high school chemistry lab. Then again, as a former nerdy teen girl, Scully understands the allure of the quarterback. Social cohesion is a powerful force. Maybe even more than broad shoulders, the girl was attracted to the idea of revenge.

Mulder, naturally, was blithely wry about it all. He’ll probably publish some esoteric paper on it in one of those poorly credentialed paranormal journals: the monstrous manifestation of adolescence, or something about the American tendency to manufacture visible hauntings as a way to deal with the invisible buried history of colonized land.

There are worse ways he could spend a Saturday night. At least he’s less likely to end up in the hospital.

“Dinner and a show?” he asks. “Since our flight isn’t until tomorrow morning.”

“In this town?” She crosses her arms, skeptical.

He produces two movie tickets. “Jurassic Park. Have you seen it yet?”

“I was going to go with my friend Ellen this weekend, but….” She shrugs. They’re here instead, chasing ghosts. “I think she went with her new boyfriend.”

“Got a purse?”

She pats around for it and finds it in a chair. “Yes, why?”

His eyes twinkle. “I said dinner and a show, Scully. Do you know how many McDonald’s hamburgers I can fit in a purse?”

“Mulder, no. I like this purse.” She clutches it to her. “Surely chicken nuggets would be easier.”

“You don’t want to be reminded of this night by a waft of eau de pickle every time you reach for your wallet?” Mulder’s grinning at her. She can’t resist him when he’s like this. Maybe it’s the lonely teen girl in her, the echo of jockishness in the set of his shoulders. He chooses her, patting the seat next to him at the metaphorical lunch table. Besides, he’s already bought the tickets.

“You’re carrying the ketchup,” she says, tilting her head back to look up at him. His grin broadens.

The bored teen at the box office lets them in, despite the waft of fry oil from her purse, which bulges with its contraband cargo. Mulder buys two sodas and a box of Junior Mints while she waits. The college girls at the concession stand eye him with a familiar mix of anxiety and intrigue. Scully’s seen it in every small town, and some of the bigger ones. There’s something rarefied around Mulder, an air of old money, maybe, or a New England vowel. He interests people; they resent that. He’s too obviously overeducated, charming in a way people don’t trust. Still, they’re drawn to him.

She leans on the half-wall that separates the concessions area from a couple of arcade machines and the hall that leads to the three theaters. The college girls’ eyes flick to her and then back to Mulder. There’s hair twirling involved as they hand him his change. Scully smiles to herself. Mulder drops the coins into his overstuffed pocket and saunters over to her, oblivious to the glares of the college girls. Scully shows the tickets to the usher, who rips them and points out the door to the middle theater, as if they could get lost.

The theater is mostly full. They pick seats in the middle - harder for the usher to pick them out in the crowd - and wait until the lights go down. Scully wedges her purse between her hip and the armrest. The food is still warm. They take turns dipping in and retrieving a nugget or a few fries. Mulder carefully applies ketchup from the torn corner of a packet before stuffing the fries in his mouth. In the flickering light from the screen, his lips are glossy with grease. It’s odd, feeling the pressure of his hand against her thigh when he roots around inside her purse, but it isn’t unpleasant.

“You know all of this is nonsense,” Scully murmurs as the animated DNA explains how the park’s team re-created the dinosaurs. “Absolute junk science. Even if you could extract genetic material from a sample like that, there’s no reason to believe it would be viable, no matter how many amphibians you spliced into it.”

“I always find a reason to believe,” Mulder whispers to her. “Come on, Scully, give in to the movie magic. It’s called science fiction, not science plausible.”

“Shhh!” says someone behind them.

Scully subsides until she can no longer contain herself. Mulder, recognizing her mood without looking, tilts his ear closer so that she can whisper to him. They get shushed again, and then again, derailing her sotto voce tirades about parthenogenesis and the feasibility of a theme park based around dinosaur habitats.

“Your wife has a lot to say!” Mulder’s neighbor tells him. It’s clearly intended to be a reprimand. Mulder pretends it’s a compliment. Scully subsides, chastised and defensive. If she doesn’t think too hard about it, the movie is entertaining. And if her knee presses into Mulder’s as the T. rex stomps toward the Jeep, neither of them acknowledges it.

They wait through the credits after the movie, letting the locals trickle out. The glares Scully is fielding now are different from the ones she got at the concession stand. She lifts her chin, defiant. Mulder stuffs their McDonald’s trash into their empty soda cups, concealing the evidence.

“I can’t believe you didn’t enjoy that,” Mulder says as they walk back toward the motel. The evening air is dotted with fireflies. A breeze rustles the leaves and pushes her hair over her forehead.

“I didn’t not enjoy it,” Scully tells him. “It just didn’t seem feasible.”

“Doctor Sattler reminded me of you,” Mulder says. He pushes his hands into his pockets. “Woman inherits the earth.”

“If only we could reproduce so easily on our own.” Scully cuts her eyes at Mulder. “You know, you remind me of Doctor Malcolm.”

“Why, Doctor Scully, I didn’t know you had a thing for bad boys.” She shoves at his arm with her shoulder and he chuckles. “What about me reminds you of him? Because I’m tall, dark, and handsome?”

She rolls her eyes. “Mostly it’s your love of chaos.”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly.” She smiles at him.

“So there’s a chance you think I’m irresistibly suave.” His voice is as velvety as the humid air.

“There’s a chance of a lot of things, Mulder.” She looks up at the night sky and savors the bitter freshness of the last Junior Mint. “Even dinosaurs.”

A few weeks later, they’re on the Texas coast, drafted into an anti-smuggling operation. There’s nothing supernatural about it - more than anything, they’re warm bodies in Kevlar vests. Scully doesn’t mind. Sometimes it’s satisfying to work on these task forces. There’s a clear resolution to cases like these: so many guns seized, so many tons of cocaine destroyed, so much cash pulled out of hidden stashes. It’s clear-cut who the bad guys are, and she doesn’t have to write the reports.

“Dinner and a show?” she says to Mulder as the other agents eddy around them. They’re rarely invited along to drinks when they’re assigned to these things, but she doesn’t necessarily enjoy being the only woman in the group anyway.

“Anything with air conditioning,” he says.

They eat at a seafood restaurant that’s nearly a shack. The seafood boil comes in plastic bags they have to rip open. It’s some of the best shrimp Scully has ever had, and the corn on the cob is as sweet and blisteringly hot as the last days of summer. She licks butter off her fingers and watches Mulder crack crab claws.

The theater here is bigger: eight screens instead of three. Scully buys two tickets for Sleepless in Seattle and presents them to Mulder. He raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t know if I took you for the rom-com type, Scully.”

“I don’t want to get shushed again.” She gives him a sideways glance. “At least we all agree this is going to be unrealistic.”

Mulder sighs and shakes his head. “So beautiful. So cynical.” Before she can figure out how to respond to that, he’s off to the concession stand again, this time returning with Dots wedged into one back pocket and Sno-Caps in the other. He hands her a soda as they go in the theater. The sides of the cup are already faintly damp with condensation. The theater itself is like an icebox, air conditioning whistling.

They sit in the back row this time, near a bunch of teenagers who already have their arms slung against each other. Mulder rolls his eyes, but there’s a nostalgic smile on his face. Scully wonders how many girls he sat in dark theaters with, focused on something other than the movie. He cups her hand and shakes Sno-Caps into her palm. She eats them one by one. They aren’t shushed this time. She almost misses the excuse to lean against him. By the time the movie is over, her feet are tingling with cold. Pushing out the doors into the muggy air is almost a relief.

“Hit me with your best shot, Scully.” Mulder takes her cup to toss it into the trash. “I assume I don’t remind you of lovable widower Tom Hanks.”

“I don’t know why she left Walter,” Scully says. “It seemed cruel. All because her life wasn’t like a movie?”

Mulder scoffs. “You wouldn’t stay with a guy like that.”

“A guy with allergies?”

“A guy who didn’t excite you,” Mulder says. “You wouldn’t settle for safe.”

Scully tips her face to look up at him. “Wouldn’t I?”

Mulder spreads his hands. “Picket fence, 9 to 5, 2.5 kids and Sunday dinner with the family - you like the sound of it, but you’d get bored. Face it, Scully, you’re a creature of the night now. You’ve got that wild urge in your soul. You’d be baying at the moon if you were stuck in that kind of life.”

“And lovable widower Tom Hanks would provide that?”

“No,” he says. “Ian Malcolm might, though.”

She rolls her eyes. “And how much do you charge for this astute psychoanalysis, Doctor Mulder?”

He taps his lower lip with one finger and scans around them. “Two scoops of mint chocolate chip.” He points to the glowing sign down the street depicting an anthropomorphic ice cream creature. Locals are clustered in groups around a walk-up window like moths around a lamp, sipping at floats and licking drippy cones.

Scully feels a rush of nostalgia for the summers of her youth. The salt air, the long twilight: she can’t help remembering. It’s a sweet little ache under her sternum, and it gets sharper when she looks at Mulder. He’s clearly pleased with himself. “I think I can swing that, as long as you’re not angling for a banana split.”

“What about one malt with two straws?” He winks at her.

“Don’t push your luck,” she grumbles.

But she thinks about it as the moon hangs heavy overhead, and she’s glad she can blame her flushed cheeks on the heat.

[waksworldrebooted]

MTV Era Motorcity Masterpost (+ NEVER BEFORE SEEN INFORMATION)

In 2000, Chris Prynoski pitched a cartoon called Motorcity.

He made a card and a website promoting the show, which wouldn't see the light of day until the Walt Disney Company got their hands on it.

THE SETUP

"MotorCity is The Dukes of Hazzard meets Akira. It's American Graffiti and Big Daddy Roth rumbling with 8 cylinders into the world of Sci-Fi. It's the heart of American car culture driven to the next level."

 "Sex, cars, Rock & Roll, and the freedom to wrap your ride around a tree trunk goin' 160."

"In the near future, concerns over global warming, pollution, and the ever-worsening problem of gridlock in America’s major cities brings about the Anti-Combustion Acts of 2009." "These laws banned the use of any vehicle powered by an internal combustion engine. At first there was a lot of vocal opposition. But the so-called "Digital Revolution" as well as the advent of amazing new transportation technologies neatly filled the void, and the benefits of an improved environment along with a safer, faster and more efficient means of getting from point A to B managed to win even the staunchest opponents over. The oil companies and car manufacturers were forced to shut down under the political and economic pressures." "And a new era was born. Cleaner, faster and safer. America’s cities became modern utopias where its citizens could travel without fear or hazard in comfortable flying boxes affectionately known as "living rooms", and Detroit (The Renaissance City), became the finest example of this new policy. But with all of this wondrous innovation, something was lost. Something inherent in the soul of old America, something called freedom. The freedom to go anywhere. Anyhow. As fast, or as slow as you want. The freedom to speed. And the freedom to die." "This is where our characters come in. A few radicals realized that although you might never die in the "living rooms" , you’ll never really live in them either. So in the "Live fast and die young" mind-set, they fight the law. Scavenging parts and gas from Detroit’s massive underground, Mike Chilton and his gang, as well as a few others are trying to recapture some of what it meant to risk all for the freedom of speed."

THE CHARACTERS

Mike Chilton: A young talent on the illegal race circuit. Mike's right leg is always twitching and itching to jam a gas pedal to the floorboards, and his foot is as lead as they come. He's got gasoline surging through his veins and a 450 horsepower soul. His heart burns to drive and it's all he can do to keep moving faster and faster so that the flames don't consume him. He might be a gangly 19-year-old kid, but his ride has as much muscle as he'll ever need and he knows how to use it.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '77 Trans Am

Julie Capulsky: An Anthropology student with a quick mind and a quicker pulse. She's a city girl with a passion for adventure who's secretly writing a paper on the underground "Burner" culture. As she gets to know Mike and his crew, she feels the freedom of the road and learns the power of a rumbling big block at her command. She is torn between the high performance life of a Gearhead and the love of her father who has sworn to take them down.

Vehicle of Choice: Any Hot Rod that'll give her a ride.

Lt. Capulsky: Julie's Dad and head of Detroit's Anti-Combustion Enforcement Division. He's old enough to remember when the highways were the arteries of America and the drivers were its blood. He rode with Fast Eddy in his youth and understands the joy of inhaling the fumes of burning rubber as the hot road turns his tires to black jelly. He's forced to deal with enforcing a law he's not sure he believes in. But that doesn't stop him from holding the record for the most illegal auto busts in the state of Michigan.

Vehicle of choice: Police "Living Room"

Ed Pirelli: (Fast Eddy) The old-timer who serves as Mike and the crew's link to the past, as well as their guide for the future. A wrecked hulk of a man, Eddy lived in a time when America was the land of wide-open spaces, and you had the liberty to go where, when and how you wanted to travel. You had the freedom to live, and the freedom to die. None of those damn boxes.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '58 Chevy Roadster

Greg Raden: This young cop looks up to Lt. Capulsky as his ultimate hero. Born after the Anti-Combustion Act, He doesn't understand the rush of a vibrating steering wheel responding to every reflex of your sweaty palms. He wants nothing more than to grind the gears of the "Burners" to a halt.

Vehicle of choice: Police "Living Room"

Dave Earnhardt: Mike's worthy rival on the race circuit. He's a speed demon who stops at nothing to win. He might be Mike's worst enemy on the tar, but he'd take a speeding bullet for him off the track.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '69 Camaro RS

Holly Biscayne: A fellow "Burner" who has a thing for Mike. She's jealous and suspicious of Julie's big city motives. She wants to make sure that when the checkered flag waves, she'll be on top.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '05 Jaguar convertible

Brute Conklin: The bastard child of internal combustion and computer technology. This crafty gearhead beats "The Man" at his own game with a never-ending digital assault on the computers that control the Global Satellite System.

Vehicle of choice: Chopped 98' Harley Pan-head

Claire Constance: This ice queen might look like a hot number, but she's really a wet blanket who tries to smother her best friend Julie's fire. She can't understand what's with risking your life in the "sewers" when you can be shopping in style in the safety and comfort of your own clean home.

Vehicle of choice: None if she can help it

Promo card released in 2000

Concept art made shortly after the trailer (ones that closely resemble the final show)

From left to right: Luv (Dutch), Holly Biscayne, Chuck, Mike Chilton, Julie Kapulsky, Claire Constance, Texas, Greg Raden (Tooley), Lt Kapulsky (Abraham Kane), and The Mayor of Detroit

Pitch Trailer

[longlistshort]

“After Storm in the Fen”, 2024, Oil on canvas

"Squall Lines", 2024, Oil on canvas

For Rachel MacFarlane’s exhibition, Coming Events Cast Their Light Before Them, at Hollis Taggart, she has painted several dreamlike landscapes based on her travels to places impacted by climate events. She first creates maquettes from her observations (three are on view) and then uses them as the basis for the paintings.

From the press release-

At its core, MacFarlane’s work is about lamenting the loss of specific landscapes through creating and depicting new worlds where humans are no longer the protagonists. MacFarlane spends much of her time immersed in unique geographical environments – often ones that have been heavily impacted by climate change-related weather events. While working on her newest body of work, MacFarlane spent extensive time in places ranging from the Adirondacks to Wolfe’s Neck Woods State Park in Maine, and from Prince Edward Island right after it had been hit by Hurricane Fiona to Clearwater, Manitoba during unprecedented flooding. As has always been her practice, MacFarlane does not document while she travels, instead preferring to absorb the atmosphere of a place and spend time really immersed in its sights and sounds. Upon returning to her studio, MacFarlane transforms her observations into three-dimensional maquettes created out of paper, paint, and plastic.

As MacFarlane describes it, a lot of play takes place at her collage table, as she manufactures new spaces based loosely on the spirit of specific ones, drawing on a myriad of influences from theatre and architecture to the world-building of science fiction literature and movies. The paintings in this show were specifically influenced by MacFarlane’s research into the Augsburg Book of Miracles, a manuscript depicting celestial and weather phenomena made in Augsburg, Germany in the sixteenth century. MacFarlane was moved and inspired by how these anonymous illustrators centuries before her were also dedicated to tracking warning signs in the landscape and to recording them in creative ways.

While she describes the model-building as a distancing method, it is also one that creates intimacy, as the scale shift to a shallow box model leads to the creation of a miniature world we can literally hold in our hands versus the enormity of the environment. After MacFarlane distills the memory of a place into an object, she further transforms it into its final form on the canvas, using bold colors and thick brushwork that highlights the painterliness and artifice of her landscapes. As art critic Barry Schwabsky notes in the catalogue essay, these multiple translations and transformations allow MacFarlane to “operate with and against flatness and depth, illusion and physicality, naturalness and theatricality… Her work gives pleasure but also warns that with all these unavoidable antitheses, the choice of one pole or the other would be hopeless, and we have to learn to live with the tensions between them.”

This exhibition closes 5/25/24.

[eloise175]

Domestic Headcanon

The multiple languages of love:

Callisto at one point sat down and learned on a whim how to say ‘I love you’ in 20+ languages to express his undying love for Penelope better, because simply put, one language isn’t enough to explain what he feels for her. He’s also aware of the fact that his wife is able to understand what he’s saying most of the times because she speaks a handful of languages, and the adorable blush that dusts her cheeks never fails to make him smile.

Penelope will never get used to Callisto’s incessant love-bombing, and the actual lengths he’d go to express how much he loves her, it tugs at her heart strings in the best way possible. It’s an indescribable sensation, but if she were to word it out, Penelope would say that it’s like a bunch of butterflies swarmed her stomach, alike the feeling when he first kissed her.

Callisto also took it upon himself to learn about flower-language, and what each color and flower represents.

First and foremost, the red roses are never missing, he likes to think that Penelope will always associate their color with his eyes.

This stems from one time when she left him a neatly written note in his office for their anniversary, where at the end there was the mark of her lips in red lipstick, with a rose of the same shade attached to the paper; Callisto kissed the mark left by her lips without hesitation.

Carnations of deep color are also very present, because while it is true that love is the sentiment that burns the brightest of them all, Callisto cannot help but feel a deep sense of admiration every time his wife takes the lead as Empress.

She has the final say in things, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He couldn’t care less about what other people think of him, but Penelope’s opinion is the one that truly matters. He knows she’ll always tell him the truth, no matter what.

Orchids bring back memories of the earlier stages of their relationship, when Callisto would shower Penelope with an endless pile of expensive gifts after learning that she had a penchant for jewelry and such.

The fine silks of the dresses he’d gift her were imported from different countries and manufactured with the outmost care, befitting the woman of his heart. In the box, on top of the silks, there would be two orchids of a color similar to the one of her hair, their stems tied together by a white ribbon with golden threads sewn in.

Their presence standing for luxury and refinement as well as a beauty unlike any other.

Even after their union as a married couple, when Callisto commissions new garbs for his wife, two orchids that are meant to symbolize the two of them are left on top of the garments as a callback to those days.

Later on, the number of the flowers growing with every addition to their family, increasing by one for each little miracle that blesses their lives, bringing them into parenthood and its joys.

After a while, Penelope taught Callisto how to make flower-crowns, and now every occasion is good to make them for her. Penelope is somewhat jealous because he shouldn’t be allowed to be this good at making flower-crowns, not better than her that’s for sure.

However she cannot stay irked for too long because the way he places the carefully made crown on top of her head with that specific gaze, where it looks like he just fell in love all over again, melts away all the previously built up irritation.

Later on Callisto will start making flower-crowns for their children as well, and Penelope can feel her heart swell the longer she watches them, especially when their kids try to replicate said flower-crowns.

[smallerplaces]

Unboxing the World's Smallest Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse

The little girls are excited about decorating the World's Smallest Malibu Barbie Dreamhouse, based on the 1979 A-Frame Dreamhouse. Malibu Christie is taking a nap in the empty main room.

This morning we stopped at the local Ace Hardware, and I wandered off to the frivolous section while Dad was on one of those quests for the one exact size of a very specific piece of gear. Some canny merchandiser had decorated a fake Xmas tree with packages of World's Smallest products. I probably would have fallen for the World's Smallest Etch-A-Sketch if my gaze had not fallen on the World's Smallest Malibu House.

The Malibu Dreamhouse is architecturally my favorite Barbie Dreamhouse, so resistance was futile. The package was marked $7.99, which seems reasonable (it turns out to be the standard price online); and given this year's Barbie Boom, it's unlikely to see significant late-season discounting. So home it came.

The back printing was enough to sell me on the house!

While photographing the back, my phone triggered the QR code up at top left, which leads to the manufacturer's web site, a.k.a. the rabbitiest rabbit hole of dollhouse and fashion doll miniatures ever to rabbit. My wallet is making little whimpering noises at my even looking at it, but I've only bought the one, and it's rare we go to Ace more than twice a month.

Prying the clamshell apart didn't lead to loss of fingers or spilling of blood, so we'll call that a win.

The house is incredibly cute in person, though its railings fall off if you look at them sideways. They snap right back on, though. Malibu Christie is mounted in her own little plastic cocoon.

The house is about 4.5 inches long, 3.5 inches high, and 1.5 inches deep. The stickers seem a little large for the rooms.

Yeah, that furniture's a little tall! I don't intend to use the stickers anyway -- there has to be some sort of dollhouse or model train furniture that will fit this house.

My phone camera said LOL NOPE to getting a clear photo of the micro doll. Toy Box Philosopher did a review of some of the other World's Smallest Barbie products and has clear pics.

I love this house! The blue sky in the windows is printed.

The skylights are open holes.

The screening on the back is pretty epic. I expected that this would just be paper, but it's more solid and either a plastic or something laminated.

While picking it up to double-check this, I managed to pop off a balcony rail again (easily fixed) and lose Micro Malibu Christie (not easily fixed, and really annoying, as I keep my floor bare so a yellow swimsuit should show up!).

The little girls (and boy) are delighted with the dollhouse, and Teen Skipper is happy to have a break from reading stories!

[jcmarchi]

US launches $1.6B bid to outpace Asia in packaging tech

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/us-launches-1-6b-bid-to-outpace-asia-in-packaging-tech/

US launches $1.6B bid to outpace Asia in packaging tech

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The US is betting big on the future of semiconductor technology, launching a $1.6 billion competition to revolutionise chip packaging and challenge Asia’s longstanding dominance in the field. On July 9, 2024, the US Department of Commerce unveiled its ambitious plan to turbocharge domestic advanced packaging capabilities, a critical yet often overlooked aspect of semiconductor manufacturing. 

This move, part of the Biden-Harris Administration’s CHIPS for America program, comes as the US seeks to revitalise its semiconductor industry and reduce dependence on foreign suppliers. Advanced packaging, a crucial step in semiconductor production, has long been dominated by Asian countries like Taiwan and South Korea. By investing heavily in this area, the US aims to reshape the global semiconductor landscape and position itself at the forefront of next-generation chip technology, marking a significant shift in the industry’s balance of power.

US Secretary of Commerce Gina Raimondo emphasised the importance of this move, stating, “President Biden was clear that we need to build a vibrant domestic semiconductor ecosystem here in the US, and advanced packaging is a huge part of that. Thanks to the Biden-Harris Administration’s commitment to investing in America, the US will have multiple advanced packaging options across the country and push the envelope in new packaging technologies.”

The competition will focus on five key R&D areas: equipment and process integration, power delivery and thermal management, connector technology, chiplets ecosystem, and co-design/electronic design automation. The Department of Commerce anticipates making several awards of approximately $150 million each in federal funding per research area, leveraging additional investments from industry and academia.

This strategic investment comes at a crucial time, as emerging AI applications are pushing the boundaries of current technologies. Advanced packaging allows for improvements in system performance, reduced physical footprint, lower power consumption, and decreased costs – all critical factors in maintaining technological leadership.

The Biden-Harris Administration’s push to revitalise American semiconductor manufacturing comes as the global chip shortage has highlighted the risks of overreliance on foreign suppliers. Asia, particularly Taiwan, currently dominates the advanced packaging market. According to a 2021 report by the Semiconductor Industry Association, the US accounts for only 3% of global packaging, testing, and assembly capacity, while Taiwan holds a 54% share, followed by China at 16%.

Under Secretary of Commerce for Standards and Technology and National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) Director Laurie E. Locascio outlined an ambitious vision for the program: “Within a decade, through R&D funded by CHIPS for America, we will create a domestic packaging industry where advanced node chips manufactured in the US and abroad can be packaged within the States and where innovative designs and architectures are enabled through leading-edge packaging capabilities.”

The announcement builds on previous efforts by the CHIPS for America program. In February 2024, the program released its first funding opportunity for the National Advanced Packaging Manufacturing Program (NAPMP), focusing on advanced packaging substrates and substrate materials. That initiative garnered significant interest, with over 100 concept papers submitted from 28 states. On May 22, 2024, eight teams were selected to submit complete applications for funding of up to $100 million each over five years.

According to Laurie, the goal is to create multiple high-volume packaging facilities by the decade’s end and reduce reliance on Asian supply lines that pose a security risk that the US “just can’t accept.” In short, the government is prioritising ensuring America’s leadership in all elements of semiconductor manufacturing, “of which advanced packaging is one of the most exciting and critical areas,” White House spokeswoman Robyn Patterson said.

The latest competition is expected to attract significant interest from the US semiconductor ecosystem and shift that balance. It promises substantial federal funding and the opportunity to shape the future of American chip manufacturing. As the global demand for advanced semiconductors continues to grow, driven by AI, 5G, and other emerging technologies, the stakes for technological leadership have never been higher.

As the US embarks on this ambitious endeavour, the world will see if this $1.6 billion bet can challenge Asia’s stronghold on advanced chip packaging and restore America’s position at the forefront of semiconductor innovation.

(Photo by Braden Collum)

See also: Global semiconductor shortage: How the US plans to close the talent gap

Want to learn more about AI and big data from industry leaders? Check out AI & Big Data Expo taking place in Amsterdam, California, and London. The comprehensive event is co-located with other leading events including Intelligent Automation Conference, BlockX, Digital Transformation Week, and Cyber Security & Cloud Expo.

Explore other upcoming enterprise technology events and webinars powered by TechForge here.

Tags: ai, AI semiconductor, artificial intelligence, chips act, law, legal, Legislation, Politics, semiconductor, usa

[warmglowofsurvival]

Twenty One Pilots’ Josh Dun Builds His Dream Studio, Part 2

Drums rule inside the Boom Boom Room, the new home facility of Twenty One Pilots drummer Josh Dun and his wife, voice artist Debby Ryan.

By: Steve Harvey

Ever since its 2015 breakthrough album Blurryface, Twenty One Pilots has been flying high with a string of platinum-selling albums and worldwide arena tours. There’s no knowing when the creative urge will strike, however, so both drummer Josh Dun and lead vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Tyler Joseph have home studios. Don’t pass up Part 1, which explores how Dun worked with Charlie Griffey of Griffey Remodeling, Josh Dun, TJ Bechill of NEAT Audio, and Gavin Haverstick of Haverstick Designs to create his ideal home facility, The Boom Boom Room; now let’s dive into how he puts the studio to good use.

SETTING UP TO RECORD

“Tyler and Josh don’t work with engineers; they work by themselves,” Bechill observes, noting that during his technical design process, he likes to understand an artist’s workflow and what tools they need. “I always build around the concept of the artist being able to walk into a room and ‘put pen to paper’ as quickly as possible.”

Bechill quizzed Dun about the favorite drum tones he had recorded in his favorite rooms before deciding what gear to load into the control room’s Dangerfox desk. “A lot of them featured vintage Neve consoles,” he recalls. “Josh has API and Audient pre’s in his studio in California, and he said, ‘I want transparency, but I also love the vintage vibe of a Neve console and the glue that you get from the transformers.’”

The desk’s lefthand bay houses two Rupert Neve Designs 500 Series racks holding 14 of the manufacturer’s 511 mic pre modules, with variable Silk control. “The Coles 4038 overhead mics go into a pair of 517 preamps, into 1176s and then into the converters,” he adds.

Mike Picotte, senior sales engineer, artist relations at Sweetwater, also consulted on gear choices, then tuned the control room with Smaart and optimized the DSP on the room’s PMC 6-2 main monitors. “PMC checked all the boxes and has been an incredible system,” Bechill says. “We don’t really mix in there, but we wanted an accurate reference. You can do multiple EQ settings, so we created two zones—one for the mix position and a second for the couch, if friends come in to listen to music.”

Picotte also dialed in the drum sounds. “After 15 minutes, Mike leans back and says, ‘Well, there you go,’” Bechill recalls. “There’s no processing on the tracks; it’s just a great room, great microphones, and solid preamps and conversion, so we saved it as a template. We’ve got a Furman sequencer, so now Josh walks in, turns one key and the whole studio turns on. Within seconds, he can press Record and sit down and play.”

Sweetwater sales engineer Patrick Cobley supplied much of the equipment and, with NEAT sales engineer John Krempel, helped assemble the control room during the two-day installation. Ryan’s brother, Chase, who works on the video side, designed the audio patchbay. “I love having a normalized patchbay where I don’t have to use cables if I don’t need to,” Bechill comments.

Speaking of patching, Bechill installed a dedicated Rupert Neve Designs Shelford Channel for Ryan’s voice work so that she didn’t have to disturb Dun’s signal flow. “She’s an absolute professional, but I wanted a channel strip so we could give her dynamic control in case she got too animated or too close to the mic. I really like the FET-style compressor in the Shelford, and I’ve always loved 1073-esque tones.”

Haverstick included a small vocal booth in the studio layout, which doubles as an amp closet for visiting guitarists, but Ryan can also take a shotgun or a lav mic into the live room: “She can do ADR in that room if her producers don’t want a completely sterile vocal booth environment.”

TRACKING DRUMS

The tracking space, a room-within-a-room design, looks out onto the woods surrounding the house and features a floating floor. Although Dun has tracked in big rooms like EastWest in Hollywood, Haverstick says, “He wanted a controlled but not too dead-sounding live room, because Twenty One Pilots do get more of a controlled sound on their drums.”

And what about those drums? Dun wanted something special for his home studio setup, so Mike Ciprari, owner of SJC Custom Drums, his longtime supplier, ran with Dun’s treehouse concept (he proposed to Ryan in a treehouse in New Zealand). The all-wood kit, with moss and leafy accents, uniquely features a completely wooden front head on the kick drum. “No joke, it actually sounds pretty solid; I was shocked,” Bechill laughs.

Bechill’s idea was to mike the drums using just two or three stands, making the most of the design flexibility and weight capacity of Triad-Orbit’s products. An Audix D6 and a Solomon Mics LoFReQ hang off one stand, he reports, with multiple Sennheiser MD 421 tom mics hanging off another. “If you were to try to do that with any other stand, it would just tip over,” he comments. “I spent $1,500 on three mic stands, but we had committed so heavily to an aesthetic that I wanted them.” The Coles overhead mics are supported by two ceiling-mounted boom arms.

During construction, after Dun mused about what his drums might sound like in the 20-foot-high sunroom, Bechill had Griffey install a four-inch conduit so that he could run a Whirlwind 24-channel snake to a stagebox upstairs. “John [Kremple] did all the wiring with me, and it took us four hours just to get the W2 mass connect from the second floor down to the studio. I don’t know if Josh will ever actually track up there, and, if he does, if it’ll ever be used—but for some reason, in the moment, it felt like the most important thing,” he chuckles. “After that, everything else was easy.”

It seems likely that Twenty One Pilots fans will hear the results of all that hard work soon enough. Previously, while Joseph could work in his own studios, Dun had to go to a commercial room to track his drums. Now, Bechill says, “Between this studio and Tyler’s two studios, we can track and mix in these rooms—although I believe they’ll still send their sessions out to be mixed—because we have the proper environments.”

[shitla-papers1]

The Impact of E-Commerce on Packaging Design and Materials

Introduction (H1): The Transformative Effect of E-Commerce on Packaging Design and Materials

The rise of e-commerce has revolutionized the way we shop, transforming the retail landscape and disrupting traditional brick-and-mortar stores. As more consumers turn to online shopping, the packaging industry has had to adapt to meet the demands of this rapidly growing market. In this article, we will explore the profound impact of e-commerce on packaging design and materials, and how companies like Shitla Paper are providing innovative solutions to cater to these evolving needs.

The Growth of E-Commerce : Changing Consumer Behavior and Packaging Requirements

With the convenience and accessibility of online shopping, e-commerce has experienced exponential growth over the past decade. Consumers now expect their purchases to be delivered safely and efficiently to their doorstep, which has significant implications for packaging design and materials.

In the e-commerce landscape, packaging serves multiple purposes beyond protection and containment. It must also create a positive unboxing experience, reflect the brand's identity, and be environmentally sustainable. This shift in consumer expectations has given rise to the need for innovative packaging solutions that strike a balance between functionality, aesthetics, and sustainability.

The Role of Packaging Design in E-Commerce : Creating a Memorable Unboxing Experience

In the digital age, packaging design plays a crucial role in brand differentiation and customer engagement. E-commerce companies understand that the unboxing experience is an opportunity to create a lasting impression on the consumer. Well-designed packaging can evoke excitement, anticipation, and even emotional connections with the brand.

In response to this trend, packaging design has become more creative and visually appealing. Unique box structures, personalized inserts, and branded materials enhance the unboxing experience and encourage customers to share their positive experiences on social media, generating valuable word-of-mouth marketing.

The Importance of Packaging Materials in E-Commerce : Balancing Protection and Sustainability

E-commerce packaging must ensure the safe transit of products from warehouses to consumers' homes. Traditional packaging materials like cardboard and bubble wrap continue to be widely used, but there is growing awareness of the need for sustainable alternatives.

Eco-friendly materials, such as recycled and biodegradable packaging, are gaining popularity. Companies like Shitla Paper are at the forefront of providing sustainable packaging solutions. By offering paper-based packaging materials that are both protective and environmentally friendly, Shitla Paper helps e-commerce businesses align with their customers' eco-conscious values.

Innovation in E-Commerce Packaging : Shitla Paper's Role in Driving Sustainable Solutions

Shitla Paper, a leading provider of paper for packaging solutions, recognizes the evolving needs of the e-commerce industry. With a commitment to sustainability, they offer a range of eco-friendly packaging materials that meet the demands of e-commerce businesses while reducing their environmental footprint.

Their innovative paper-based packaging solutions include corrugated boxes, mailers, and cushioning materials. By leveraging their expertise in paper manufacturing and staying ahead of industry trends, Shitla Paper enables e-commerce companies to enhance their brand image and deliver a memorable unboxing experience while reducing their reliance on non-recyclable materials.

Conclusion : Embracing Sustainable Packaging in the E-Commerce Era

As e-commerce continues to shape consumer behavior and transform the retail landscape, packaging design and materials play a crucial role in meeting the changing needs of businesses and consumers alike. Balancing functionality, aesthetics, and sustainability is essential for e-commerce companies seeking to stand out in a crowded market.

Shitla Paper's dedication to providing eco-friendly packaging solutions positions them as a valuable partner for e-commerce businesses looking to enhance their brand image and reduce their environmental impact. By embracing sustainable packaging practices, businesses can not only meet customer expectations but also contribute to a greener, more responsible future.

To learn more about Shitla Paper's innovative packaging solutions, visit their website at https://www.shitlapapers.com/.

[denimbex1986]

'After a monumental opening weekend, the success of Barbie and Oppenheimer is clear for all to see, but Hollywood may learn the wrong lessons. Both Barbie and Oppenheimer have been hugely successful in their own right, with their opening weekend making $511 between them. Oppenheimer has made over $700 million so far in its box office run, while Barbie became Warner Bros.'s highest-grossing movie in U.S. history, reaching over $1 billion. Each movie has seen individual success, but the organic marketing campaign really helped push and promote both movies. With the films heavily contrasting, it made audiences want to see both, which many did on the same day, creating Barbenheimer.

Despite this triumph for both films, the lessons that Hollywood learns from Barbenheimer are a concern. The way in which both movies managed to work simultaneously is a bit of an anomaly and not something that will prove to be a viable marketing strategy in the future. A level of caution should be taken about release dates and big movies overlapping, even if Oppenheimer and Barbie managed to thrive despite releasing on the same day. There are many reasons why Barbenheimer worked, and as a result, it is important studios learn the right lessons rather than set upcoming movies up for failure.

Why Barbenheimer's $245 Million Bet Massively Paid Off After A Year Of Hype

Barbie and Oppenheimer have made massive profits compared to their sizable budget, emphasizing the gamble taken on these films paid off. With a $100 million budget, Oppenheimer has smashed box office landmarks. They include the $700 million grossed already, becoming the highest-grossing R-rated movie of the year and the highest-grossing World War II film of all time. Likewise, Barbie's $145 million budget has seen the film gross over $1 billion and compete for the highest-grossing film of the year with The Super Mario Bros. Movie. While both films had large budgets, the hype generated around Barbenheimer helped them become two of 2023's biggest movies.

The $245 million bet paid off, with audiences having plenty to invest in. Both films have an impressive cast, with Margot Robbie and Cillian Murphy big enough stars to take leading roles and help sell tickets. Christopher Nolan is one of Hollywood's biggest directors, while Greta Gerwig has had her fair share of quality movies in recent years, earning a level of trust from viewers. The opposite nature of these movies also helped drive an organic marketing campaign that was done largely on social media without planning from studios. It took a variety of factors to go right, but Barbenheimer proved to be a huge success for all involved.

Barbenheimer's Success Won't Be Easily Replicated (& Hollywood Shouldn't Try To)

After seeing the success of Barbenheimer, Hollywood will be eager to replicate it, but this is the wrong lesson to learn from the triumph. With the cast, crews, and audience marketing being so special, Barbenheimer isn't the type of success story that comes around all too often. While an annual summer double bill sounds fun on paper, both movies were high-quality films crafted for their own audiences. The Barbenheimer campaign certainly helped, but both Barbie and Oppenheimer would likely have found success if they had been released separately. Trying to manufacture films to release at the same time will detract from their individual nature and make them lose their longevity.

Barbie proved to have long-term success, with Blue Beetle dethroning Barbie for no.1 spot at the box office after Gerwig's film spent four weeks on top. Oppenheimer has shared equal lasting power, especially at Imax screens. The originality and quality of these films helped sell a double-bill weekend. However, trying this yearly with any pair of movies would likely be a disaster. Had current internet culture been around in 2008, The Dark Knight and Mamma Mia may have had a similar weekend to Barbenheimer. That is due to the quality nature of both films and their opposite styles, not just because they both released on the same weekend.

Barbenheimer Proves Huge Franchises Are No Longer The Key To Huge Release Weekends, But Will Hollywood Learn This Lesson?

Big franchises have dominated the box office for a long time. It is why we have seen so many reboots and sequels, yet Barbenheimer has proven this is not the only recipe for success. Marvel's Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantamania reviewed badly, and The Flash's box office failure repeated unwanted history for DC, yet both Barbie and Oppenheimer thrived. Barbie is a big brand, and Christopher Nolan is arguably a brand on his own, but neither of these films had previous cinematic experience and managed to dethrone the superhero powerhouses. This is a clear sign that franchises aren't the key to big opening weekends.

Mattel has announced upcoming toy movies after Barbie, highlighting that Hollywood is already not learning from Barbenheimer's success. The reason so many people went to see Oppenheimer and Barbie was because of their uniqueness and originality. Barbie's success didn't come because people craved films about toys and wanted to see more Mattel films. It was because they wanted to see something different. Rather than a Barbie 2, people want to see "The Next Barbie," the next original movie that is a must-see because it hasn't been done before. If Barbenheimer has shown anything, it is that Hollywood needs to be more original, not that it needs more franchises and sequels.'

[knammarketing1]

Knam Marketing: Leading Duplex Paper Exporter from India

Knam Marketing stands as a trusted name in the global paper industry, specializing in the export of high-quality duplex paper. As a prominent duplex paper exporter from India, we cater to diverse packaging and printing needs across various industries worldwide.

Why Choose Knam Marketing for Duplex Paper?

Premium Quality: Our duplex paper is manufactured using advanced techniques, ensuring superior brightness, smooth texture, and durability, making it perfect for packaging and printing solutions.

Sustainable Practices: Committed to eco-friendly practices, Knam Marketing focuses on sustainable sourcing and responsible production methods, delivering high-quality paper with minimal environmental impact.

Global Reach: With years of expertise in international trade, Knam Marketing has established a strong presence in markets across Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe, providing timely and reliable deliveries.

Customization Options: We offer duplex paper in various grammages and sizes, tailored to meet the specific requirements of our clients.

Cost-Effective Solutions: At Knam Marketing, we provide competitively priced duplex paper without compromising on quality, ensuring value for every order.

Applications of Duplex Paper

Our duplex paper is widely used in:

Packaging: Ideal for making boxes, cartons, and other packaging materials.

Printing: Popular in the production of brochures, business cards, and other printed materials.

Stationery: Used in creating high-quality stationery products.

Partner with Knam Marketing

As a leading duplex paper exporter from India, Knam Marketing is committed to delivering excellence in every sheet. Our focus on quality, sustainability, and customer satisfaction sets us apart in the global market.

For more information about our duplex paper products or to inquire about export opportunities, contact Knam Marketing today!

[praveenblogs]

Non-Woven Bags: The Eco-Friendly Choice for Businesses and Consumers.

In recent years, the shift towards environmentally friendly products has gained significant momentum. One product that has captured the attention of both consumers and businesses is the Non-Woven Bag. These bags are not only sustainable but also highly durable, making them an ideal choice for multiple uses. With the increasing demand, numerous Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers have entered the market, offering a wide range of options. This article will focus on the importance of these bags, how manufacturers are addressing the growing demand, and why businesses should consider sourcing from a reliable Bags Manufacturer.

What Are Non-Woven Bags?

Before delving into the world of Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers, it’s important to understand what these bags are. Non-woven bags are made from a fabric-like material that is bonded together without the use of traditional weaving techniques. The fibers are entangled and bonded either mechanically, thermally, or chemically. The resulting material is lightweight, flexible, and incredibly strong, which makes it suitable for various applications, from shopping bags to promotional giveaways.

The Rise of Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers

The rise in environmental consciousness has led to a significant increase in the demand for sustainable alternatives to plastic. As a result, Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers have experienced rapid growth in recent years. Many manufacturers are now focusing on producing high-quality bags that are eco-friendly, reusable, and customizable to meet the specific needs of their clients.

Businesses that rely on packaging, such as retail stores, supermarkets, and event organizers, are increasingly turning to Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers to source their products. These manufacturers offer bags in a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors, making them ideal for brand promotion. The ability to print logos and designs on these bags has made them a popular choice for corporate giveaways and promotional events.

Why Choose a Non-Woven Bags Manufacturer?

When selecting a Manufacturer Bags, there are several factors to consider, and Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers tick all the right boxes for businesses looking to align with sustainable practices. Here’s why businesses should consider choosing a Non-Woven Bags Manufacturer:

Eco-Friendly Production: Non-woven bags are made from polypropylene, a material that is recyclable and does not harm the environment like traditional plastic. Moreover, the production process for non-woven bags uses fewer resources and emits fewer pollutants compared to plastic bags.

Durability and Reusability: Unlike single-use plastic bags, non-woven bags are designed to be durable and reusable. They can withstand heavier weights, making them a more practical option for consumers. This durability also means that customers are more likely to reuse the bag, providing businesses with repeated brand exposure.

Customization: Most Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers offer a high degree of customization, allowing businesses to create unique designs that reflect their brand identity. Whether it's a specific color, logo, or design, manufacturers can tailor the product to meet the exact needs of the business.

Cost-Effectiveness: Compared to traditional plastic or paper bags, non-woven bags are relatively inexpensive, especially when purchased in bulk. Many Bags Manufacturers offer competitive pricing, making it an affordable option for businesses that need a large quantity of bags for promotional purposes or retail use.

Versatility: Non-woven bags come in various sizes and designs, making them suitable for a wide range of applications. Whether you need bags for groceries, shopping, events, or giveaways, Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers can produce the right bag for the occasion.

Leading Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers

As demand for non-woven bags continues to grow, many manufacturers are stepping up to meet the market's needs. Here are some of the qualities to look for in a reliable Bags Manufacturer:

Experience and Expertise: When selecting a manufacturer, it’s crucial to work with one that has extensive experience in producing high-quality non-woven bags. Established Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers have a proven track record of delivering products that meet industry standards and customer expectations.

Production Capacity: Depending on your business needs, you’ll want to work with a manufacturer that has the capacity to produce the quantity of bags you require. A reliable Bags Manufacturer should be able to scale their production based on your demand.

Certifications and Compliance: Look for Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers that adhere to environmental and quality standards. Certifications such as ISO 9001 or other eco-friendly labels are a good indicator of a manufacturer’s commitment to quality and sustainability.

Innovative Design Solutions: Some manufacturers offer innovative features such as water-resistant or UV-protected non-woven bags. These options can add value to your purchase and make your brand stand out.

The Future of Non-Woven Bags and Their Manufacturers

As more countries implement bans on single-use plastic, the demand for non-woven bags is only set to increase. Governments and organizations are encouraging the use of sustainable alternatives, and Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers are at the forefront of this change. By investing in new technologies and sustainable practices, these manufacturers are helping to reduce plastic waste and promote a more environmentally responsible future.

Businesses that choose to partner with a Manufacturer for Bags specializing in non-woven bags not only benefit from high-quality, durable products but also contribute to a greener planet. As sustainability continues to be a top priority for consumers, brands that align themselves with eco-friendly practices are likely to see increased customer loyalty and a positive impact on their reputation.

Conclusion

In today's competitive market, businesses need to make strategic choices that benefit both their brand and the environment. Partnering with a reliable Non-Woven Bags Manufacturer is one such choice that can pay off in the long run. These manufacturers provide eco-friendly, cost-effective, and customizable solutions that cater to the needs of businesses across various industries.

By choosing non-woven bags, businesses can reduce their carbon footprint, offer a more durable and reusable product to customers, and increase brand visibility through customized designs. As the world continues to move towards sustainability, working with a trusted Bags Manufacturer can ensure that your business stays ahead of the curve.

FAQs about Non-Woven Bags

1. What are Non-Woven Bags made of? Non-Woven Bags are made from polypropylene, a recyclable material that is bonded together without traditional weaving methods.

2. Are Non-Woven Bags eco-friendly? Yes, Non-Woven Bags are eco-friendly. They are reusable, recyclable, and require fewer resources to produce compared to plastic bags.

3. Can Non-Woven Bags be customized? Yes, most Non-Woven Bags Manufacturers offer customization options, allowing businesses to print logos, choose colors, and create unique designs.

4. How durable are Non-Woven Bags? Non-Woven Bags are highly durable and designed for multiple uses. They can carry heavier items compared to single-use plastic bags.