#boggs answers

[boggsart]

EXCUSE ME who told you you’re talking too much about your art?? Dude that’s the part I love most!! I like hearing about how you struggled to get it where you wanted, or how much the tools you’re working with frustrated you, but you got to a place you were happy with anyway.

I don’t know anything about 3d animation, and I know even less about game design. So it’s really important for me that you describe your process and how much work you had to do because it your work context. I’m sorry anybody made you feel like that wasn’t valuable. I’d argue that’s more valuable than the finished work itself!!

I always love seeing your posts pop up on my dash. And Wolffe and the 104th look absolutely fantastic in the newest one!! If you don’t mind me asking, what were some of the weird issues you ran into in the 104th’s one, and what makes them different issues from the ones you ran into before?

Thank you so much for all the kind words, but to be completely honest, they are kinda right. I think any artist can relate to the feeling of being too critical towards your own work. I tend to overexaggerate mistakes, or point out issues that aren't even really noticable to someone that knows little about this field. But at the same time, i always have a vision of how i'd like my current work to look like, and when i don't meet my own expectations (which i rarely do), that's when i start yapping. Well there were some minor ones, like noticing how some of the armors were not modeled accurately( like around the shoulder part of the chest piece, it's completely missing that part where it connects the front to the back, elbow pieces are way too big, helmets were also not modeled accurately, etc). I also completely messed up the rigging process, thus giving myself so much more work when animating. There are always certain body parts that just go into eachother (lower arm going into the upper arm when it's bent, feet going into the floor, hands going into the chest, etc) that could have been easily avoidable if i took the time to make a proper rig for my models.

There are also always some texturing mistakes, or wrongly placed focal points i notice once the final render is done. In this one, once all of the characters come up, and the camera starts zooming in on their faces, the focal point was placed too far, resulting in some parts of the helmets looking blurrier, than they should look. Since renders take a whole lot of time, i always try to fix this by putting the final renders into a 3rd party AI upscaling program, instead of going back to place it correctly, then re render it. That's probably a crappy workflow, but if this project wouldn't have a deadline that's approaching WAY TOO QUICKLY, and i wouldn't have a lot more stuff to model and animate, i would do the latter. At the same time, i probably should just pay more attention before hitting the render button lol. Also, the movements of the characters sometimes look way too stiff, and don't have that fluidity to them. I haven't been animating for long, so here's the reason for that, at the same time tho, i'm noticing some impovements when comparing the recent piece to my first animation. These are the problems i'm running into most of the time. In the recent one though, if you look closely, once Wolffe goes into his stance (after the commander Wolffe text disappeares) there's some weird black flickering going on around his chest/belly area, that for the love of God, i could not fix. Sometimes the particle system can cause some really interesting issues, that most of the time can be fixed by baking the dynamics. Since i did that (multiple times, deleting them, then re baking) and the issue persisted, i started to think either the shaders, or the particle system+volumetric fog combo was causing this problem. I also use a s*** ton of REALLY powerful lights, with the power constantly changing throughout the entire animation, that could also be causing this issue (i think?) I tried re-placing the cube that's making the volumetric fog, tried placing the lights and camera slightly elsewhere, but nothing worked, so i just decided to leave it as it is. The super slow mo parts are being made in the Non Linear Animation editor, which is... just as confusing as it sounds lol. Making the slow mo parts sometimes causes the blasters to disappear then reappear at the wrong time. The way grabbing the blasters then putting them away works is by having one blaster that's always parented to one hand, and one, that's always parented to the holster, and you change the visibility accordingly. (the moment the character pulls the blaster out of the holster, both blasters have to be perfectly alligned so the change in visibility doesn't have a weird jump in it) The visibility itself gets an action strip on its own, and it's hard to line them up correctly once you chopped up all your other strips and scaled them to make them slow motion. Because if the armature's action strip gets chopped up and scaled to make the movement slow motion, then everything else that has movement linked to it has to as well. So lights, the camera, the empty axes that the camera is parented to, and the blasters as well. This could be achieved by just placing the keyframes further apart from eachother, but i found this method to be somewhat simpler.

I'm probably doing this the wrong way though and could just place the keyframes accordingly without pushing the blaster action down to the NLA editor (cuz after all it's just visibility, not slow motion movement the blaster has). Though i have some really cool ideas with blasters in the upcoming animations, that would probably require to have them as NLA strips. Or maybe not, and everything i'm doing and talking about is bullshit, and isn't the way it should be done, and i really hope someone, that's in the industry doesn't read this and go "what the f is this woman talking about" lol. Basically everything about animating confuses the hell out of me, and i'm always doing stuff on the trial and error basis. So i hope one day i'll be able to learn it properly haha See, i'm yapping way too much after all. And i'm sorry for the long answer, but i'm really really passionate about this. And it actually feels so nice to know that there are people out there that care. 💖💖

[darkwitch1999]

@darkwitch1999 Hey witch, concerning the AUs, what Noelle and Devin be in the Class of Heroes and Class of Villains AU? How about the Monstrous youth AUs?

Never really put much thought into who would be in Class of Heroes or Villains (not even sure which characters are left that aren’t already taken). If they don’t have to be from a movie and they can be from TV shows, I definitely see Devin as Amity from Owl House in the Class of Heroes.

Devity (Devin/Amity) would be the only child of Chandler Blight (Chandler Nolan) and would strive to be the best and at the top of everything to please his mother, knowing fully well what fate would entail for him if he were ever to fall short of his mother's expectations or even dare to defy her. Unlike Amity, Devity would not have a father or older siblings for support, meaning that he would have to deal with his mother controlling his life alone.

As for Noelle, I can see her as Lilo from Lilo and Stitch. She would be older than Lilo and much more "weird" than Lilo. Like Lilo, she is also alienated from her peer group due to her love of horror and gore, which has also led to her getting bullied by a group of four girls her age. Honestly, I think the Parisian Mean Girl quartet would be perfect for Mertle Edmonds and her friends. I can totally see Nilo or Lielle practicing voodoo on them like Lilo did in that one scene.

As for the villains AU, I can see Devin as the sorcerer Mozenrath and Noelle as Randall Boggs.

In an alternate universe, I can imagine that as an evil villain, Devinrath would be more sinister, openly expressing his delight in watching others suffer, and like Mozenrath and Devin separately, would be scholarly with their vast knowledge of magic. His mother would have been the one who taught him magic up until the point when Devinrath decided to usurp her power and her throne when he felt that the woman had nothing left to teach him.

Noelle Boggs is someone I can imagine being a chameleon-like humanoid who takes immense satisfaction in scaring humans of all ages (children aren't enough to satisfy her desire to strike fear into those "weaker" than her. She'll scare teens and adults and she is amazing at it, especially if when scaring the elderly close to death).

Now for the Monstrous Youths, I would say that Devin would most likely be a vampire from a prestigious family and Noelle would be a boogeyman (for obvious reasons). I would say in this AU they would retain most of their personality traits from their Darkverse counterparts (my fandom universe). The only real differences to their characters would be their monstrous forms and powers.

[assundries]

@mvndrvke asked: ❝ honestly i had to do it because it felt better than feeling nothing. ❜

His eyes linger on the flat expanse of concrete walls for a moment, while that settles; he's trying to remember whether there was a time before the last month or so when anyone might've told him how something felt twice in one sentence.

Now imagine letting your feelings —anything other than harsh, unyielding necessity, really— factor into major decisions.

Ulysses looks over at her, somehow a spot of color even in what he knows are regulation grays, and he nods once, more in acknowledgement than agreement.

"There are worse reasons to act."

He's certainly seen enough of them.

[magicjoint]

It was hard work making the Ramshackle dorm look like a run down circus. Attaching a temporary tent to the side of the building and making it look like a big top had taken a lot of work to achieve but it was starting to take shape. A real team effort. Though this early Saturday morning Rove was alone as many of his dorm mates were still sleeping as Rove set up the fabric top pinning it in place with pegs into the ground. Thankful for magic to help him with the heavy lifting. He was somewhat unaware that there was actual living residents in Ramshackle so as he walked inside to start sewing bunting in his makeshift workshop he jumped almost out of his skin when he spotted the blonde hair student standing there. He didn’t recognise the face as a fellow Ignihyde student….he was sure he knew most of them least by name and face…. He was puzzled for a moment before giving up. Clearly an Npc among npcs as his housewarden would coin it. “Oi don’t stand there…help me decorate.” He barked, hands on hips scowling. He may only be a second year but he was the seven be damned Halloween rep of Ignihyde this year so his army of minions better listen.

yuu thought them agreeing to live in a rundown house like this was bad enough. recently they were told that the outside of the house may be used as a halloween attraction. yeah, sure, it looked creepy enough to fit in ... why not say yes? after all, that dreaded headmaster would probably make a fuss about it should they have said no. as long as they could still get to sleep, yuu and grim weren't fussed with it.

but they did have issues with someone trying to install whatever they were doing on a saturday morning. who on earth willingly wakes up early on a saturday?

the noise was what woke yuu up at first ; their companion still sound asleep. he had gotten way too accustomed to noise ... yuu would get the ghosts to come spook him awake later. right now, they just wanted to tell whoever was on their porch to run off like an angry elderly man and try and get some more sleep. but then they heard footsteps. inside their house. weren't they told they wouldn't have to worry about people coming inside? well, someone lied to them, then. it was reasons like this that yuu had kept a wooden bat at the bottom of the stairs ; something they had picked up on their way down and kept hidden behind their back.

now simply staring at this trespasser, yuu's eyes visibly narrowed at the sudden order to help decorate. they were forced awake, still tired and pissed off. not the combination of traits of someone you should be asking for help from. but regardless, they mustered up their best smile as they began slowly walking over. " oh yeah, sure, i'll help decorate ... " then all of a sudden, they lunged forward, grabbing onto the nearest piece of clothing the other had to drag him closer to them, now glaring at him.

the bat in their other hand was being shown off now, moving it in a fashion dangerously close to suddenly swinging at the stranger. not just because. but as a warning.

" yeah, right. why on earth would i help someone that just welcomed themselves into my house? you think barking orders at me will make me follow them? here's one of my own. how about you tell me why you're here before i make sure you won't think about coming back here? " yuu couldn't take any chances. even if this was someone simply trying to get help for decorating, the fact that they didn't even think to make sure it was okay to come inside got on their nerves. it was a defensive response, one that was probably gonna get them in a lot of trouble.

[crossedtheline]

It was like a set up to a bad joke… kinder 

A clown walks into a library and meets a demon? 

He totally wasn't taking his break to be nosey. He was curious to see what the.other houses had done. No ill intentions here at all. Also if he bumped into Jinx then it was a bonus. 

As he entered he grinned slightly spotting Jinx with their back turned to him. Careful to not make a sound he mentally thanked Ortho for noting to removing the insides of the bells they wore so they didn't jingle. 

Sliding up behind Jinx he tapped his magic pen to shift his eyes to black and green. A cute little illusion spell that was super hamdy right now as he raised his hands as if he was about to attack the other before taking in a breath.

"Boo!"

Finally able to get to his venue, he was getting into place. For some reason he couldn’t find his knife, and he knew if he couldn’t find it, Vil would be on his case for misplacing a literal weapon. Searching the library shouldn’t have been much of a hassle but there were already some people coming in and he didn’t want to raise any alarms. 

He was ducking his head under tables and casually strolling the perimeter, retracing his steps to find where he could have dropped it. He caught the glint of metal behind some of the severed heads, and snatched it up. There it is! He wonders if he should get a wrist strap so the thing doesn’t get misplaced again-

“Shit!” He didn’t even realize someone was behind him before he registered some creep in a clown suit looming behind him. Without thinking, he swung his (empty) fist toward the guy’s face and only halfway through he realized it was Rove. Oops.

“Shit, Rove! What in the world were you thinking?” He says, waving around his knife, “I could have stabbed you, you idiot!” 

[shadowqueenjude]

Something I've really noticed in SJM's writing of Rhysand: She'll constantly say one thing about him but the writing will tell us exactly the opposite. Like she'll tell us that Rhysand is super feminist or some shit and we're just supposed to...agree. But he hasn't done shit to help Illyrian females who get their wings cut off every day. Making laws without enforcing them is useless. Which leads into my second point: She tells us 70 times a chapter how powerful Rhysand is, yet he's unable to force the Illyrians to follow laws? Pls be fr. She tells us he believes in the equality of all beings. Yet he sexually assaulted a 19 yo human and he separates the CoN from Velaris? And also says bOtH sIdEs MaDe MiStAkEs. Bitch stfu. She tells us this man is uber handsome and desirable. Yet he's had no serious relationship in like 500 years. Tamlin has had relationships with a ton of people as was stated in book 1. But Rhysand? No relationships or even casual fucks as far as we know. Bro is just celibate somehow. We KNOW Lucien is hot because everyone in Prythian plus the Children of the Blessed are instantly dumbstruck when they look at him and it ain't because of the scar lovelies. Plus we even have LUCIEN being out on border control "WITH SOME COMPANY!" As in he was fucking someone. Plus he had Jesminda ofc. And we have Tamlin being insecure (it's a retcon but whatever) of Lucien in ACOWAR when it comes to Feyre. We have SJM telling us Rhysand is super duper smart and shit. Yet I've seen no demonstration of even the slightest bit of tact from him. He couldn't even make the High Lords listen to a word he was saying without violence. But Nesta, a human just turned Fae, was able to make all of them listen without violence. We've seen Lucien use tact when he played spymaster in book 1, when he used his cunning to try and guide Feyre to the answer in book 1, when he and Feyre together use the Bogge to assert their dominance over the Hybern twins, and when he was able to send a sample over to his friend Nuan about the faebane. Plus there's the fact that he saw through all of Feyre's bullshit and he survived the cutthroat Autumn Court and he currently balances three roles while still dressing immaculately. She'll tell us Rhysand believes in choice. Yet she wrote Rhysand forcing himself on Feyre, Rhysand forcing Feyre into a bargain, not permitting her to go back to Spring, not giving her the necessary info to make a proper decision over ANYTHING in Night (biggest example of this is the Weaver scene), hiding her malignant pregnancy from her and restricting her movements, and locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses. I could go on but you know...

Sjm needs to realize that SAYING something doesn't make it true. You have to PROVE IT with the actions and storyline you undertake. ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS.

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 24 June 1973, an arsonist ignited a fire that engulfed the LGBT+ bar called the Up Stairs Lounge in New Orleans, killing 32 people and injuring 15. The fire was the deadliest attack on a gay bar in American history prior to the 2016 Pulse Nightclub Massacre. In a city where LGBT+ culture was largely hidden, the Up Stairs Lounge was one of the few establishments catering to the gay community and one of the only gay bars that welcomed Black men and lesbians. On the fourth anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising, patrons assembled at the bar for the weekly beer bust. Sixty-five people remained when Bartender Buddy Rasmussen heard the doorbell ring and asked friend Luther Boggs to answer it. As Luther opened the door, flames rushed into the lounge. Buddy led 20 survivors onto the roof of a nearby building while others unsuccessfully attempted to escape through barred windows. The fire department arrived at 7:58 and extinguished the fire quickly, but the powerful flames had already overpowered many patrons. Among the victims were 12 members of Metropolitan Community Church, the first church serving LGBT+ individuals. They included Rev. William "Bill" Larson, associate pastor Duane "Mitch" Mitchell, and Mitch's boyfriend Horace Broussard. Unlike other tragedies, the Up Stairs fire did not amass community support. Although newspapers reported the fire, journalists enflamed anti-gay sentiment by perpetuating vulgar rhetoric and harmful stereotypes. Articles painted the victims as "thieves, burglars, and queers," while other reports named the tragedy a "fruit fry." Eyewitnesses told author Johnny Townsend that they overheard either police or firefighters saying: "Let the f*****s burn". No formal memorials were planned, and churches refused to provide services. This reaction galvanised the New Orleans' LGBT+ community to organise for gay rights as they mourned those who died in the tragic fire. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=649971757176043&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[actual-changeling]

i thought about the end scene of 'beyond the sea' too many times and this is the result. mulder is so soft with her for the entirety of the episode, and it drives me insane.

first ficlet i've ever written for these two, so hopefully i got their voices right.

—

Mulder's hand against her arm is warm and comfortably heavy, a tether keeping her close enough to the ground to not drift away like she's been prone to do for the last few days. When her eyes flutter shut on their own accord, Scully doesn't fight it, all too aware of the hours of sleep she hasn't been getting.

Between fragmented nightmares about her father and the feeling of blood under her fingernails—Mulder's, dried and darkened no matter how hard she scrubbed—the last time she got more than twenty minutes at a time was before she saw her father's ghost in the flickering television light. The regular beeping of the machines echoing through the hospital room calms her somewhat; they're familiar sounds, no matter how far from medical school she might have ended up.

"Maybe you should head home, get some rest," Mulder suggests softly after an extended period of amicable silence, slightly squeezing her shoulder before reclaiming his hand. Her fingers twitch against the sheets as she fights the urge to chase after him, her body suddenly oddly cold. When she opens her eyes again, she catches him staring at her with concern clouding his gaze.

"I'm fine." 

It's a reflexive answer, a lie she keeps telling even though they are both aware she's everything but.

"I know," he replies, smoothing his palm down her arm until he can gently take her hand, and the chill disappears as quickly as it has arrived. "The last couple of days have just been a lot, and you deserve a break."

The noise is out of her mouth before she can stop it—something between a dismissal and a sob, tinged with bone-deep exhaustion. Even if she were to go back to an apartment full of Christmas decorations and unwanted quietude, she wouldn't be able to get any rest at all; not with guilt sitting on the bottom of her lungs and fear poisoning her breaths.

Scully tightens her grasp on his hand and turns to watch his heartbeat weave its way across the monitor. Alive, it whispers, over and over and over. 

Alivealivealive, and no thanks to her. 

She thought about it a few times, only when the darkness seemed entirely ubiquitous and the sleep deprivation spun webs across her ceiling, if maybe her choice to join the FBI, to go against her father's wishes, to put her life on the line while the distance between them grew—if all the stress she caused him somehow made her responsible for his death. 

No matter what she tries to tell herself, her father will still be dead, and Mulder will still be injured because she allowed him to run off alone despite Bogg's warnings. She had known without wanting to that he was going to get hurt, and yet. Always too little, too late.

"…Dana."

A tug on her arm rips her back out of her mind, and the worry carved deep into Mulder's face tells her that he has been trying to get her attention for longer than she can simply shrug off; she attempts to smile anyway and fails miserably.

"Whatever it is you're blaming yourself for, you're wrong."

"Mulder—"

He releases her hand in favour of cupping her cheek exactly as he had days ago in their office, and she relaxes into it without wanting to, the touch warm and comforting.

"If you don't want to go home, at least close your eyes for a little," he smiles for the two of them, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. Whatever protest she was about to utter dies on her tongue, so she simply nods. Mulder pulls back slightly to invitingly lift his arm, and for once, Scully doesn't even pretend to need time to consider it. 

God, she is beyond tired. 

She toes off her shoes and lies down on the scratchy hospital sheets, conscious of his injury as she carefully fits herself against his side. With her cheek resting on his chest and one palm above his heart, Scully closes her eyes and enjoys the comfort of Mulder holding her like she is doing him a favour. 

His fingers trace slow patterns up and down her back, and when she feels him press his lips to her hair, she inches impossibly closer in silent thanks.

The day bleeds from her limbs, and little by little, the tension in her aching muscles dissipates until only exhaustion and a familiar sense of safety remain. For the very first time since waking to see her father's ghost in her living room, sleep comes easily and remains completely dreamless. 

Mulder keeps her wrapped in his embrace and rests easier than he has in years.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 22)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Part 21

The hovercraft is only half full. Peeta, Cashmere and Y/N. Finnick, Cressida, Pollux and the others left the day before, they’ll be catching up with them once they reach the outskirts of the Capitol.

Y/N says goodbye to her children before school. Though Haymitch will be there in her absence, leaving never gets easier.

Peeta is skittish, from sitting under the harsh lights.

“You ok?” Y/N lays a hand over his.

He nods, still trembling. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I was born in district twelve…”

This is a new grounding technique he’s been practicing with Dr. Aurelius. It seems to calm him as they take off.

Y/N rests her head against the seat. Recounting the way she ran back down the loading ramp before take off, just to be held by Haymitch one last time. Even though he couldn’t go and she couldn’t stay. Just breathe.

————————————————————————

The truck that brings them in to meet the rest of their squad is welcomed with weapons trained on them, hot and ready.

Cashmere jumps out first. “Come on, Peeta. We got ya.”

“Y/N?” Katniss lowers her weapon.

“Hey.” Y/N smiles, one hand behind her holding Peeta’s. Protect Katniss from him. Protect him from Katniss.

“That’s close enough.” Gale says as they approach.

“Hey, stop.” Finnick steps out to greet them, pushing Gale’s gun to the side.

“What’s going on here?” Boggs demands.

“Coin sent us.” Cashmere explains, “guess she thought you could use a few extra hands.”

“How thoughtful.” Katniss snarks. Whatever game Coin is playing, they’re not meant to win.

“Tell me about it.”

————————————————————————

As it turns out, Daisy is not a fan of the formula provided by district thirteen. She is also very aware of the fact that Haymitch is not her mother and she’s isn’t thrilled by that either.

“Shhh,” Haymitch rocks her against his chest. “Daddy’s here.”

“It’s like she only wants Y/N,” Madge offers.

“You and me both, kid.” Haymitch stares down at his daughter, shifting between feet.

“It’s hard on everybody when she goes,” Madge admits, “but for what it’s worth, I think you’re a great dad, Haymitch. I know Y/N does too.”

Haymitch nods.

“I can take her for a while. A change of scenery might help.”

“I gotta figure this out on my own.” Haymitch mutters, under his breath.

————————————————————————-

The Star Squad sets out to film their first propo. With the assistance of the hollow, they’re able to clear the courtyard full of pods before entering.

Two large machine guns slide out from the pillars, raining bullets between the group; split in two to take cover.

Katniss on one side with Cashmere. Peeta, Y/N and Finnick on the other. There’s not a word Katniss can think of to describe the way it feels, watching Y/N place her hands over Peeta’s ears. Trying to muffle the gunfire.

Peeta lays his own hands over hers, his lips moving; quickly. “I’m a painter and a baker…I always sleep with the window open.”

He is trying, Katniss knows this. Even now, Peeta remembers everything she tells him, in great detail.

Y/N catches her staring, somehow she always does. Finding Katniss’ eyes and offering a tiny smile.

Katniss considers glaring at her, because she shouldn’t be here. She should be in thirteen, safe; the way Katniss left her. The other half of Katniss wants to make a run for it, to fall into her arms and say thank you. Thank you for always taking care of me, even when I ask you not to.

————————————————————————

Y/N calls Haymitch, using the hollow as soon as they’re hole up somewhere safe after the pods, after Snow’s broadcast announcing they were all dead.

It had just been the Leeg sisters…and Boggs.

“Ah,” Haymitch finally answers, his image displayed across the grainy screen in her hands, “she lives.”

“Oh good, you’re still up,” Y/N smiles. “I didn’t want to wake the kids, I almost waited until morning but-”

“Do me a favor, anytime you’ve narrowly escaped death and had it broadcasted to all of Panem, do not wait until morning to call me.”

“Deal,” Y/N agrees.

“How are you holding up, angel?” Haymitch sighs.

“I’m alright.”

“What’s wrong?” He can see it in her face.

“I miss you,” she shrugs, blinking back traitorous tears. “That’s all.”

Haymitch purses his lips, “when this is over, we’ll never have to miss each other again. We’ve got some fight left in us, we can ride this out.”

Y/N nods, “no, I know.”

“Hey,” Haymitch calls her attention back to the screen. “I love you, be safe.”

“I love you too.” She ends the call, they have to keep things short, on the off chance communication is being intercepted by the Capitol.

Cashmere waltzes over, plopping down beside her friend. “You should’ve let him come.” She teases. “Now he’s there and you’re here, and you’re both miserable.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to focus. And god forbid something happened to me, you really think he’d just keep going?”

“Like you could?” Cashmere calls her bluff.

Y/N bites back a grin. “I die, he dies. He dies, I die. That’s why he’s there and I’m here. So we don’t kill ourselves trying to save each other.”

Cashmere gets it, “you’ve gotten smarter about it, I’ll give you that.”

“I had to. Sometimes the only way to win the game is to bend the rules.”

“So when this is over and there’s no more…” Cashmere searches for the words. “Moves and countermoves, what are you gonna do? What’s your happy ending?”

“Me, Haymitch, the kids, Madge. We go back home to twelve, rebuild. Make a real life for each other, no more cameras, no one watching; we earn our happy ending. What about you, Cash?”

“I don’t know.” Cashmere shrugs, “I guess I have to figure that out.”

“You could come stay with us, there’s plenty of room.”

“Maybe for a while,” she agrees.

“I’d like that.” Y/N bumps Cashmere’s shoulder.

Part 23

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog @thatkindofgurl

[buffyspeak]

having a lot of feelings about peeta telling the story about darius and lavinia getting tortured to death in front of him and how panicked he ge he gets when no one answers when he asks “real or not real?” bc like: so far, the game seems like it’s helping a little, but it can only go so far. like don’t get me wrong it was helpful but there’s an inherent flaw in it! just — the absolute vulnerability of even the people trying to help you not being able tell you if something like that is real because they! weren’t there! they can make an educated guess, which is the tack boggs takes, but just. the fear of that. having no one there to tell you whether your memories and perceptions, which have been warped to hell and back, are true. and how peeta rises in aggressive panic and then just deflates. ugh.

[boggsart]

If you opened requests (I saw your Instagram story) what would they cost if I won a slot?

Depends on a lot of things. I probably won’t be doing animations at first, cuz I still got this uni project that’s yet to be finished.

I will probably charge around $16-18/hour for custom/new models/brand new posters with new characters/etc, but I’m still talking to some 3d artist about the charge rate they recommend.

Already existing posters will probably go up on InPrnt at first, and I’m guessing the price range is up to them, not me. I have a plan to sell them independently in the future, but as of now, I’m not really able to manage that.

I’ll figure everything out in the next couple of weeks, and I’ll let all of you know everything once I came to a decision.🫶🏻

[cassiefromhell]

Unexpected (pt. 4)

Part One Part Three Part Five

Fanbase: acotar

Eris x Reader x Azriel

Summary: Your morning has been completely turned upside down, and you have a feeling that your mating ceremony day might get a little... bloodier.

Word Count: 5.2k (this is a longer chapter, go to my poll to vote for longer or shorter!)

Warnings: gore, blood, fighting, suicide, fire/burning

A/N: Requests are OPEN! Check my pinned message for details on what I'll write <3. Additionally, if you're invested in Unexpected, then answer the poll on my profile! It's super helpful when I get responses and feedback, and this poll is part of it. Thank you so, so much for the notes on this lil series! I read all comments and reblogs.

This creature, melded to the dark of the room, breathes on me.

The warm air hits the back of my neck, and I suppress a shiver. 

“Look at me,” it hisses. Mist pools around my hand. “Acknowledge me.”

I stifle a gasp when I realize what I’m facing. 

The Bogge.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and begin to hum to myself softly, pretending like I came here for a reason. Blindly, I cross the room, nearly tripping on something.

“Look, my lady,” it snarls once more, sending hot, humid air through my hair. “I am what you fear. I will kill you. Look.”

“Gotta find that necklace,” I murmur, desperately avoiding acknowledging it as a real creature. Once I do, it’ll actually have the means to hurt — perhaps even kill — me. Stumbling forward, I come into contact with the wall nose-first, then feel it with a hand, pretending to look around.

“You want to look,” it pants once more, and the room goes bone-chillingly frigid. “Look. Admire me. See me. I am real.”

I hum louder, walking along the wall. My head bumps into some sort of a shelf, and I grunt.

Footsteps approach. Those familiar light footsteps.

No.

No, no, no.

Please don’t open the door. Please don’t come in.

Please don’t open the door. Please don’t come in.

Please don’t—

The door swings open.

“My lady,” Fauna says, and I feel her eyes on my back. “I came to— oh.. oh my god..”

“Fauna!” I yell, clenching my eyes shut tighter. “Fauna, close your eyes. Close your eyes. Don’t look.”

But she screams. And there’s a clatter, and then a roar.

Fuck!

I whirl, just in time to see a bony, violent lump of magic and flesh and muscle launching itself at Fauna. She shrieks, stumbling back, but she won’t make it in time. She won’t be able to get away, not from the Bogge.

I snarl, lunging for the creature and intercepting it midair. It hisses and snaps at me, but I manage to pin it to the ground with just raw strength.

Quickly, I give an impossibly sharp tug to both of my mating bonds. I need Eris here, because the Bogge is rumored to only be defeated by High Lords or Ladies. Azriel gets a bonus pull, as a backup because I really need some type of help.

“Fauna!” I roar, struggling against the flapping pile of bones and skin and muscle. “Run! Get help! Call for Eris!”

Fauna nods slowly, stumbling back. She’s clearly in shock.

“Fauna! You need to GO-“

The creature twists my wrist and I cry out, tumbling to the side. Thankfully, Fauna makes a break for it, and now I just have to keep the damn thing contained.

The Bogge bares its rotting teeth at me, and I hiss, lunging for it once more. 

It rolls out of my striking range, then jumps towards the hallway.

“Oh, NO, you fucking don’t!” I shriek, diving onto it. 

This time, my hit lands, and I sink my teeth into the creature’s shoulder and rip. It hisses and snarls, trying to claw at me. I shut it up using a hand, setting my palm ablaze and driving it into the bony flesh of its neck. 

It does not like that.

The Bogge rolls out of my grip, easily dislocating its own shoulder to do so. It plunges out through the door to the hall, and I’m forced to follow it, staggering behind.

Two things happen: one lucky, the other unlucky.

The unlucky thing is that there are servants still in the hall, busy preparing for the ceremony this morning. They scream and drop their things on the ground, some scattering and some lingering to watch.

“Evacuate!” I call out, jumping onto the Bogge and landing a blazing punch to its shoulder. “Clear this wing! Under orders of the throne!”

Shockingly, the servants begin to do as I ask. They don’t seem to mind that I actually don’t have the authority to give crown orders — not yet, at least. They scatter, opening doors and urging others to leave.

Luckily, what Azriel broke was a vase, and there’s a particularly weapon-like shard right next to me.

I snag it off of the fancy rug, which has begun to be stained the dark violet of Bogge blood.

In my distraction, the creature latches onto my back, shoving me to the carpet. I roar as its claws dig into my shoulders, and I feel its breath on my neck.

“Dirty fog bastard,” I snarl, twisting my torso and managing to plunge the glass shard deep into its ribcage.

It meets me with a howl, baring sharp teeth. I bare mine straight back, and twist my makeshift blade. My tight grip on the shard causes blood to bloom on my palm, cutting straight through my skin. I ignore the pain.

My legs kick into action, swiftly pushing me to my feet. The Bogge falls off of me, but is jumping at me in no time. 

I raise a fire wall around us, and suddenly the creature realizes that I am their only opponent. The only obstacle between it and going on a killing spree around the palace. 

The only Fae it needs to kill to gain access to the rest of the palace, brimming with weak prey.

The Bogge clacks its teeth at me, the air twisting and churning around it. It seems to flash between misty and humid and dry multiple times per minute — a sure sign of the enemy’s anger.

I lunge again, moving to plunge my double-ended blade into its chest. It narrowly dodges, and lands a good scratch on my side. 

My dress must be in tatters at this point. 

Igniting my knuckles once more, I feed it a solid fiery punch to the throat. It only wheezes for a moment, before returning to pawing at me with impossibly sharp claws.

I snarl, diving towards it. This time, it doesn’t dodge, and we roll to the other side of the hallway. Mercifully, I end on top, and I plunge my blade into one shoulder, then the other. Bogge blood spurts up, mixing with the red mess of my own hands, and landing in my mouth. I don’t even spit it out, I just swallow it and land one more stab to its ribcage. 

Until suddenly, I’m struggling to breathe.

My eyes bulge, and I glare down at the creature beneath me. It sports a crazed grin, pleased as the air around me becomes depraved of any and all oxygen. 

I cough, squeezing its throat with flaming fingers. 

If I can’t breathe, then it doesn’t get to, either.

I realize that there’s only one way for me to retaliate against such strong magic.

So, with a strained noise from behind my gasping, I unleash my own magic. It floods the air, streaming from my open wounds, my wheezing throat, my nose, my ears — everywhere. 

Tendrils of deep red explode around me, and then dive onto the creature. I stand, stumbling back and directing my magic through a dance of death. Though I’m used to clean kills and swift executions, I’m no stranger to monster fighting. The magic memory resides in my veins, and the ribbons of power choke and tear and rip his flesh apart.

And just as suddenly as before, I can breathe. I raise a bloodied hand to my throat, taking oxygen-starved gasps of air, filling my aching lungs. I can already feel the strength returning to my muscles, feeding my body what it was sorely lacking.

I know it won’t be enough. Now that I can breathe, I’ll need to go back in physically. 

Only now do I notice the two voices in my head. 

I address the first: Eris.

The low tenor is panicked, further emphasized by the emotions pouring down the bond. 

Love? Love? Little flame? Please answer me. And please tell me you’re not in that fire wall.

I regret to inform you that I am.

Relief floods him, shooting down the thread of connection. You’re conscious, oh thank the mother—

I’m almost done here, I cut in gently. I need a knife. Or a sword. Literally anything that won’t cut me back.

I’ll ask around. 

I shift to the second voice, being met by Azriel’s oddly calm tone. I’m shocked that he’s already figured out how to speak down the bond: perhaps he’s just got practice from having Daemati friends.

Eris says you’re alive, he says, tone smooth and soothing. Do you need help?

I need a blade of some sort. I’ve been using a shard of glass.

Catch.

A hunting knife hurtles through the wall of fire, and I catch it swiftly, flipping it in my hand. Upon a quick investigation, it’s an impossibly sharp metal blooming from an obsidian hilt, and softly glowing. Definitely enchanted in some way or form. 

I stride towards the struggling creature, gripping the hilt of my new weapon. 

Launching myself onto it like a true predator, I let my violent tendencies completely loose. I relish in the slicing of skin, knowing that I am ridding the palace of this little bitch baby Bogge. 

It wiggles and howls and snarls and occasionally tries to bite, but I maintain my top position. I repeatedly plunge the blade into its flesh, and after a few good strikes, it stops breathing. And then it stops moving. The deep violet blood under its thin flesh has gone cold.

I make the decision to read up on the Bogge later, because I’m legitimately unsure of what it takes to permanently kill such a thing. Snarling, I also decide that I’m probably not done. 

With a few more artful strokes of this masterpiece of a weapon, I disembowel, behead, and quadrisect the Bogge.

I think that’ll do the trick.

Staggering to my feet, I take a moment to survey myself. My dress is ruined, but thankfully still in one piece, and it covers me well enough. I have deep scratches and gouges across my torso and legs, and I’m certain that there’s not an inch of skin that isn’t bloodied in some way of form.

Twirling my fancy-dancy blade in my hand, I step out of the fire wall — and am met with, arguably, more chaos than what was in my little arena. 

In fact, I’m very tempted to go back in, if only to escape what I see before me.

All of the High Lords, High Lady, and their entourages have gathered to the scene. They must have heard that a dangerous creature was nearby, and came to help.

However, they’re occupied.

By the scene of Eris and Azriel.

My two mates are at each other’s throats, only held back by a few other Fae — Tarquin and Lucien hold back Eris; Cassian and Rhys have a hold on both of Azriel’s biceps. Both males are snarling and uttering threats to one another. Helion stands between them, no doubt trying to soothe the tension with his humor, and Thesan is nearby, definitely anxiety-stricken by the situation.

They have not noticed my entrance.

I clear my throat, still spinning the knife in my fingers.

All heads snap to me, the hall growing very quiet.

“Can the Bogge still live after being decapitated, disemboweled, and de-limbed?” I ask, completely serious. “I mean, really, I need to read up on my Bogge facts. Because I cut it up as much as I can without totally shredding it, but for an elemental creature I’m really not sure what it takes to permanently kill.”

Eris is in front of me within moments, having broken free of the hands on him. He sweeps me into his arms, tucking my head against his neck.

“Oh, god, it was a Bogge? You were fighting a Bogge?” He exclaims, pulling me closer. I hug him back, careful to not stab him. “You’re alive. Oh, thank the mother.”

“Yes, I’m okay, very okay,” I soothe, reaching up to run my fingers through his rouge locks. I release the magic behind me, letting the fire wall dissipate.

He nearly purrs at the contact, quickly dropping to his knees and holding me at arms length. I can’t help but notice how beautiful he looks at this angle, head at my waist level. Like a blur of red royal beauty. “You’re cut up, but alright. Anything broken? How’s that wrist?”

Suddenly, I’m beaming down at him, even as the world spins around us — blood loss, I’m sure. “I killed a Bogge. Call me High Lady, because I’m officially on your level,” I giggle, reaching over to rub his head.

He beams right back at me. “You did. Of course you did.”

But a hand on my shoulder distracts me, and I look up to find Azriel standing there. He looks impossibly pretty, as he always is, but more so now.

One pretty mate, two pretty mate, red pretty mate, blue pretty mate.

“Oh, look, it’s other mate,” I grin, tilting my head. “Thanks for the knife, by the way. It’s epic. Can I keep this thing? Or is that why you’re here, to take it back? Because I’d like to—”

“Did you get any of the Bogge’s blood in your mouth?” He asks, completely serious. “Any at all?”

I frown, trying to think back. I glance to where the Bogge was, seeing Rhys and Helion nudging it with their boots. I can just barely make out the former muttering ‘…it’s definitely dead, that’s for sure…’

“Maybe,” I murmur, stumbling in place. “Yeah— yeah, I swallowed some, no time for spitting. Why?”

Azriel curses under his breath, turning away from me. “Thesan! She drank its blood!”

Eris frowns, looking up at Azriel with concern lacing his sharp gaze. “What’s wrong?” Then, realization dawns on him, and he looks back to me, eyes wide. “Love, can you tell me everything that just happened?”

“I fought the Bogge, and sent Fauna for help—” But I reach my own realization through my fuzzying thoughts, and interrupt myself mid sentence. “Why didn’t Fauna tell you that it was the Bogge?”

His eyes soften, and he reaches up to cup my jaw. “Little flame, Fauna was found dead.”

My hearts stops. I swear it completely stops.

But my dizzied vision doesn’t go still. No, things start to blur more, and suddenly I’m spinning and whirling and— and coughing. I’m coughing.

My name is called, but it all seems so far away. I vaguely know that I’m being ripped away from Eris and into a grip of tanned skin and tattoos and—wings? Are those wings?

“Stay awake,” that voice says again.

Stay awake, and I think that one was my own voice.

And that’s the last thing I hear, crumpling in these tattooed arms as the world goes black. 

All I know is that I am on fire.

My skin burns, and I remain in blackness. I am unable to open my eyes. Asleep. Comatose.

Every once in awhile, I’ll catch a voice or two. One that I thought was a medic explained that the Bogge Blood poison causes extreme fevers and hallucinations, and vivid fever dreams.

I have had many of those dreams. 

They are not pleasant.

Another conversation I have heard was between Azriel and Rhys. Rhys has a mission for Azriel to go on, back in the Night Court. Something to do with Illyrian camps. 

My sense of time is distorted, but I do know that it took a very long while to convince him to leave.

And I think I felt lips against my forehead.

Mostly, though, I hear Eris. I smell Eris. His scent is always nearby, and often I make out the sensation of him laying by my side.

A medic told him that I might be able to hear him, and since then he talks all the time. Sometimes through the bond, and sometimes out loud. He hums, or sings softly — even if Eris can’t sing to save his life, it’s nice.

He tells me about his day, about the time he wasn’t by my side.

He’s told me about his day six times.

I hope he’s just repeating himself, and that I haven’t been incapacitated for six days.

All the time, I try to communicate. I try to pry my heavy eyelids open, or part my lips to rasp a hello. But my body won’t cooperate.

My mind even struggles to put things together. I can’t figure out how to tug on the bond in this state. Every time I grasp my end of the string, it just wiggles away. Like it doesn’t want to be tugged.

It’s taunting me.

So I rest, mostly.

Right now, Eris is here, and there’s the etching of pen on paper. Surely doing paperwork. His scent is to my left, and one hand lays on mine.

“You know,” he starts, completely casual. “I, uh, fired half of my royal council today.”

If he didn’t have my full attention before, he sure as hell does now.

“One of them made a comment that at least this whole situation postpones you becoming High Lady. They’ll do anything to not have a female on the throne.”

I swear that my heart stops, and then shatters out onto the bed.

“A few of them laughed. I fired any of them that thought it was funny. And put them to death.”

That is such an Eris move. And I love it.

That inspires me to try with the bond again. I sharply reach out, grabbing the thread that connects me to the Vanserra male by my side. And I tug with all of my weight.

He flinches, and then goes very still. “…Love?”

I do it again. And then again, just out of the giddiness that I can actually communicate a bit.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” he laughs, and there’s a light shuffling. He sits up next to me, and there’s hands framing my face. “One tug for yes. Two for no.”

I give one tug.

“Can you hear me clearly?”

Yes. One tug. 

“Can you communicate in any other way?”

No. Two tugs.

“Would you like me to stay, or do you want space?”

I give one very long and sharp pull on that thread.

“I’m taking that as a stay.”

Yes please. One tug.

“And you can’t move at all?”

No. Two tugs.

“Can you feel things?”

Yes. One tug.

I can feel his grin, and then he presses his lips to mine. “Can you feel this?”

Happiness flows through me, and I’m inspired to try to speak down the bond.

Yes, I manage, and my heart flutters in my chest. I can feel it.

He laughs and pulls me up to his chest, showering my hair and face with kisses. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

I’m on a roll, I mentally laugh, brushing a mind-finger against his consciousness lovingly. A minute ago I couldn’t do any of this. Give me an adrenaline shot and I’d bet I could wake up.

He nods eagerly, gently placing me back on the bed. The mattress shifts as he stands, his scent growing less pungent. “I’ll be right back, love.”

There’s a click of a door opening, but no close.

The air suddenly feels incredibly tense, and it makes my skin crawl. Something soothingly cool creeps up onto my wrist, calming the burning of my skin. 

“Fantastic. It’s you,” Eris sneers, and the cool thing wraps a little tighter—almost protective. “I thought you were on a damn mission for once.”

“I was. For three days.”

“I know. I was counting. Seventy-two hours of bliss. With my mate.”

I consider the fact that Eris may be more bothered by this double-mate situation than he was showing. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Azriel replies in his most serene tone. 

“She’s still completely out. Don’t bother her with the bond or anything. Let her rest.”

“Please let me by, Eris.”

There’s a scoff, a growl, and then some shuffling. The door clicks shut.

Suddenly, that cool band around my wrist is spreading. Up my arm, across my torso, and settling lightly over my forehead and the back of my neck. I think they may be Azriel’s shadows, attempting to cool my fever. 

“I’m back,” he murmurs, and then the mattress dips. Lips are pressed to each of my cheeks. A hand slides over to take mine.

There’s a short silence, and then he gives the most gentle of tugs on the bond. 

I tug back.

The shadows tense, and then roam once more, dancing across my skin in circular motions. I have to wonder whether they have their own consciousness; if so, are they happy?

“Did you do that?” he murmurs, and fingers trace my jaw.

Yes, I speak down the bond. I gained the strength to communicate this morning. 

He hums in response, and then knuckles are gently pressed to my forehead. You’re still burning up, though.

I know. I can feel it. 

Silence.

Thank you, by the way, I say, needing to focus harder to maintain my consciousness. 

For what?

For breaking that vase. Gave me a good temporary weapon, even if it bit a little.

A low chuckle fills my ears, but I can feel myself sinking back into a dream.

How’d you know I broke that?

I wasss eavessdropping, I slur, trying to keep my speech steady and failing miserably. Sorrry. Hard to focus… I trail off, fighting sleep.

It’s alright. Rest. I’ll let Eris know. The mattress shifts, but I give him a very sharp tug on the bond, and he stills.

Stay. The shadowsss… are nice.

What I don’t tell him is that I know I’m sinking into a nightmare. And those concern Eris, I can feel the fear down the bond. I’d like Azriel to maybe be able to use the shadows to calm or wake me, and not bother Eris more.

Either way, a soft sigh is my answer, followed by his voice, out loud instead of down the thread of connection. “Of course. I’ll always stay.”

Burning and burning and burning.

I whirled around, eyes searching the ablaze building for an escape — any escape. 

The voices outside called my family name, begging us to evacuate. They were nearly drowned out by the crackling of fire and crashing of wooden support beams, but they could be heard.

“Mother!” I shrieked, racing into the kitchen. “Mother! Mother!” I sighed, trying her true name. “Maeve! Maeve?”

The little girl clinging to my arm sobbed, and I turned to look at her — I had forgotten she was there. A neighbor girl who had raced in to play hero at the sight of the flames.

“Mae-”

And that’s where I found her.

Knife in hand, standing in the center of her bedroom. Matchbox at her feet. Fire encircled her— Fae gasoline in a ring around her feet. 

“Mother?” I whispered, reaching out. “Did you do this? Did you— did you start the fire? It— It’s okay, but we have to get out—”

Only then did she turn to face me.

And only then could I see her wrists, slit and dripping blood — too much blood, too fast. Too much.

“Go,” she whispered, holding up her arms. “I am done now.”

I had to strangle back a sob, raising a hand to my throat. “No—no, we can fix this. We’ll get out, and I’ll use my own flame to contain the fire. Come on, mum,” I urged her, holding out a hand. 

“No. This life has been long and lovely, and this is my time.”

I snarled then, growing impatient. “What would dad think? I’ll answer that for you: he’d say you were being ridiculous and crass—”

“Your father is dead. You know that.”

I recoiled at her words, clutching the sobbing girl a little closer. “You are dishonoring our family name with this act of selfishness.”

She smiled.

“Good.”

And she raised her hand, and then a beam of fire was falling between us. I shrieked, clutching the girl and stumbling back, out of the way as it crashed to the ground. I called her name once, twice, thrice more times, but no response came beyond the impenetrable wall of fire.

Even as I found an exit and herded the girl and I out, I was screaming. I never stopped screaming, and all there was was fire. Fire. And I was burning. And I really was, because people were avoiding me. My own flames were eating me alive, and my skin was hot, it was so hot, I was burning and burning and it would never end—

It’s not real.

Soothing, smooth voice. And suddenly I was burning even more.

.

.

I shoot up, coughing and coughing and wheezing and heaving. It’s so inexplicably difficult to pull oxygen into my lungs, as if they haven’t been used for decades.

I’m drenched in sweat, and my skin is still burning, and I’m awake. I’m awake, and— on fire. My skin is physically emitting flames, flames that I can see, that I can feel— I can feel that fire.

I whimper, my voice coming out strained. Hoarse. It makes sense, considering that I’ve been asleep for what—a week?

“Breathe love,” a voice to my left urges me, and I’m just now realizing that there is exactly one set of hands on me — Eris, with an arm around my shoulders and clutching my fiery hand.

I look up at him, blinking once, twice, and then deciding I don’t have time to be happy that he’s here because I am on fire.

“Help—” I manage to whisper, raising a blazing hand. 

“I know, I know. Your magic has gotten away from you. Look at me. Focus on me,” he instructs, pulling me a little closer.

Eris, being the High Lord of fire himself, is not burned by me. He releases my hand and cups my jaw, forcing me to make eye contact.

I nearly sob, just at being able to see his face again.

“Pull your flames in, my love,” he says, with a kiss to my cheek. “I’m right here.”

I keep looking at him, staring at him, as my flames begin to subside. Taking long, steadying breaths, my magic begins to be reined in.

“Good,” he kisses my hair. “Good. You’ve got it.”

“Why— how… I’m awake,” I croak, finally getting the flames to settle into my too-warm skin.

“I got a medic to give you that adrenaline, and then, uhm, you lit yourself on fire.”

“Accidentally,” I scowl. “I wouldn’t intentionally go burning the medical wing down.”

Not like my mother.

“I know, little flame — you know, that nickname is a little too real now,” he chuckles, tugging me closer. 

“I still like it,” I smile, nuzzling my face into his neck. “Even if it’s literal now.”

“Those were anything but ‘small’ flames,” an unfamiliar, feminine voice chimes in. 

I flinch, pulling away from Eris’s grasp, coming eye-to-eye with an older female sporting deep brown eyes. 

I have no idea who this female is, and my instinct screams at me to dive for a knife. But Eris’s grip around my shoulders tightens, and he gives me a look — he knows damn well I want to go for a weapon.

“This is Madja,” Azriel introduces (and, oops, I had forgotten he was there.) “She’s the Night Court’s very best healer.”

I nod slowly, but my hands cling to Eris’s button-down shirt. He sits next to me, letting my head fall against his shoulder. 

Madja holds out a hand, and I warily shake it, my fingers twitching. “You’re definitely weak from the coma, but in better shape than I’d expect, for how long you were out.”

I frown, pulling back my hand. I know all of this already, and I open my mouth to say so, but Eris beats me to it.

“She’s fully medically trained,” my red-headed mate explains. “You can give her the full rundown.”

So, she does. Madja explains how long I was out (a week!) and any deficits I may have. She says that my fever is still quite high for her liking, but that me being awake and communicative is a good sign. She prescribes rest and hydration, and says that I may return to my room when I feel like it.

Madja gives me pills to take in case the poison — which still flows in my veins — causes any pain or other symptoms. She also tells me to send for her if there are any new developments.

With Madja leaving, I’m left in the room with my two mates. I sink back onto the blankets, and Eris moves with me, pushing hair out of my face.

My eyes, although hesitant, shift to Azriel. “Did you end up taking that knife back?”

He nods. “It’s called Truth Teller, and it always strikes true.” He pulls that beautiful knife out of a sheath at his side, and I get to admire it once more.

“It served me well. Thanks for hurling it at me.”

He chuckles, and Eris just scowls, picking at a piece of invisible lint on his shoulder. 

But that knife brings back another memory, and I realize that I have many questions to ask about what exactly happened that day with the Bogge.

“Am I remembering correctly, when I say that Fauna was found dead?” I ask, glancing over to Eris.

The ginger male grimaces, and nods. “Yes. I’m so sorry, dove — I know she was your favorite.”

I frown, but that’s not the issue on my mind. “But how? How is she dead?”

That gets Azriel’s attention, and he joins in. “What do you mean? We assumed she went out, found the Bogge, was killed, and then you found the Bogge roaming the palace.”

I shake my head. Sitting up once more, I run a hand down my face. “No, no. I was going down to the safes to grab that necklace, Eris, you know which one. And then I found the Bogge in a closet, still in its creepy not-real mist form. I was avoiding it, doing just fine, hoping to keep it contained, but then Fauna caught up to me. She found the Bogge, acknowledged it, and it turned real. But I made sure she got away. She ran, with instructions to get help.”

Eris narrows his eyes. “I made sure the necklace was in place that morning. It should have been there.”

“Fauna said it wasn’t.”

Azriel cuts in once more, twirling Truth Teller in his hand. “Is that hallway the only way to get to the jewelry safes?”

Eris and I nod in confirmation.

“Then someone was trying to lure you straight to the Bogge.”

My blood runs cold.

Eris tenses by my side, but reaches up to run a hand through my hair anyway. Classic Eris, always worried about me.

But my mind lingers on that fact, taking me away from the current moment. I roll Azriel's words over and over in my mouth, until I come to the only viable conclusion.

Someone is trying to kill me.

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Part Five

[rose-pearls]

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend - Part 5

Previous Part - Next Part

There are pictures lying everywhere around her, to try and make her mind work or at least that is what doctor Everdeen has told her.

Some pictures make her brain hurt from looking at them, like memories are trying to come back but aren’t able to. Others are just there, and she can’t even remember who the person is on it. In only one picture she can recognize the person, but the memories linked with him are not the best ones. 

Peeta and you are smiling at the camera, a half-eaten cake in front of them with three forks around it. They both have a bit of frosting on the cheeks while they are holding their teacups in the air. You don’t know how the both of you came to be how you are today, broken down, when just a couple of weeks ago you were smiling for the picture. 

One picture always takes your attention, the man in it is smiling warmly at her while she smiles at the camera a long dress covering her body. It looks like it had been taken at a ball, champagne flutes in both of their hands but she looked happy there. You feels like you are missing something, just like when he was looking at you with heartbroken eyes when you told him you couldn’t remember him.

“How is memory lane going?”, a voice asks behind you and you see Doctor Everdeen looking at you sweetly. 

“Could be going better, some pictures bring me headaches, others don’t do anything and then there is the picture of Peeta.”, the doctor nods at your words and writes down what you just told her. 

“The good news is that we took you just on time before they managed to make everything disappear. However, we were thinking of making you talk with Peeta if you are feeling up to it? It could help the both of you.”, Doctor Everdeen says the last part after a few seconds, and you look at her surprised. 

“What happened to him? The only thing I could hear were his screams.”, you whisper softly, looking at her for answers.

“They used some venom to make him believe that Katniss was the enemy and that she is a mutt that needs to be killed.”, your blood turns cold at the words, although you didn’t remember Katniss well you knew she was important to Peeta or that was at least what was shown on your board.

“Can I first take a look around?”, you try to ask, they hadn’t really let you out of the hospital too scared of what could happen. The doctor looks unsure but after a sigh she looks at you carefully.

“You will have a guard with you, and you have one hour.”, she looks like she was expecting your question because a guard enters at her words, and you look at her in surprise.

“I’m Boggs, I’ll be with you.”, he says after a moment of silence, and you nod slowly at his words before taking the clothes the doctor offers you.

--

The halls are quiet as you walk through them, it looks like a big maze, and you don’t know how you would’ve found your way without Boggs leading you around.

You arrive in a room filled with weapons, lining up on the walls and you try to understand why the man brought you here, but he just nods towards the long row of targets. The guns attract your attention, and you take a small one before moving towards the knifes choosing a small one. 

As you come before a target it starts moving into place, you look back towards Boggs who gives you a small smile before you turn around trying to grip the knife correctly. Memories of a knife flash back as you grip it tighter, a butcher shop flashes before your eyes making you take a step back. 

“We don’t want a murderer as a daughter.”, you hear someone yell as the memories of a butcher shop takes over, a small girl looking at her father skillfully cutting the meat and then a flashforward to a bag being thrown in front of you.

You shake your head and grip the knife tighter before making a pirouette and throwing it hard against the target, not expecting new memories to appear. 

Blood, so much blood surrounding the abdomen of a young girl who is looking at you with scared eyes. She is whispering words that you can’t differ, but you feel the pain and guilt again. You feel like you can’t breathe and for a moment you close your eyes before you hear Boggs voice and you come back from the memories. He is looking at you worried but still a feet away from you with his hands up, and you remember that you still have a gun in your hands. It drops to the floor, and you sit on the floor trying to make sense of everything you just saw, while staring at the knife in the target.

“It’s the 75th Hunger Games!”, you hear a voice yell in a faraway memory full of pride and cockiness.

A voice breaks through your daydream and you see Boggs in front of you, looking at you with worried eyes.

“What is happening? Can you talk to me?”, you nod slowly before taking a deep breath.

“T-the knife. It brought back memories.”, you manage to whisper, and he looks at you slightly surprised before sitting down in front of you.

“That’s good. Can you tell me what you saw?”, you close your eyes at his words and a moment later you nod slowly.

“There were memories of a butcher shop and then a bag being thrown in front of me with a voice saying that they don’t want a murderer as a daughter.”, you tell him slowly and he seems to think for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Your parents were district 12 butchers, so you are starting to remember them. That memory of the bag was probably when you came home from the games.”, he tells you softly like he is scared that it will break you. But his words make sense, the pain you felt at the memories must have been of your parents telling you to leave.

“There was a second memory.”, Boggs nods and you try to think of how to tell him before taking a deep breath.

“When the knife hit the target, a memory came back from a blond girl holding onto my hand, my other hand was on her wound and she looked like she was begging me to do something.”, a headache starts to form at the memories that you try to find again. Boggs is silent for a moment before looking at you carefully.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you, Doctor Everdeen will decide that when you tell her about this but that was a memory from your games.”, you remember the doctor telling you that you would have memories from games that you were in and that you won, so that must have been one.

“Thank you.”, you whisper after a moment, and he looks at you with a sad smile.

“I’m glad you are starting to remember some things. But we need to go see Mellark.”, he says after a moment and you simply nod, letting him take you with him.

--

The door is locked as you arrive, and Boggs looks at you for a moment while you look at the door feeling nervous.

“If you want to leave at any point, you tell us and we open the door.”, he says with a hard tone, and you simply nod taking a step towards the door.

Boggs tells them to open the door and you enter the room, seeing glass windows where you can’t seem to be able to see anything through. The room is all white, a bit like yours and you can’t help but want to take some paints and make it more colorful.

Peeta is in the middle of the room, looking at you with curious eyes while his hands are tied up just like his legs. He looks as exhausted and tortured as you, his screams come back in your memories, and you have to stop yourself from closing your eyes at the memories.

“You came.”, he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at his words.

“Couldn’t leave you here, could I?”, you whisper back before sitting down on his bed and smiling softly.

“How are you doing?”, typical of Peeta always wondering how others were doing before himself.

“Could be better, after all I lost all of my memories but otherwise nothing new. How are you doing?”, he snorts at your words, and you can’t help but smile bitterly in response.

“Everyone thinks I’ve gone crazy, and I don’t know what is happening to me.”, you can’t help but feel sick at his words, so you take his hand and squeeze it.

“They fucked us up really bad, didn’t they.”, Peeta chuckles at your words before it slowly dies down in his throat.

“I just want to be myself again.”, he whispers after a moment, and you feel tears in your eyes at his words.

“I know, I do too.”, you manage to say while your voice breaks down at the words. The two of you look at each other for a moment with tears in your eyes.

“I have something for you.”, you tell him and Peeta looks at you surprised before you take a picture out of your jacket.

It’s the picture they had given you of the two of you with the half-eaten cake in front of you.

A smile appears on Peeta’s face at the picture, and you can’t help but smile back as you put the picture next to his bed.

“That way you have a bit of decoration in here.”, you whisper softly and Peeta smiles at your words.

“I remember that day. It was just before we were going to do the plan of leaving towards district thirteen. We used to get together every few nights in district twelve when we couldn’t sleep and after your tour Haymitch started joining us. That night we were scared so we found each other at the table and ordered a large cake and the first thing you told me was that my cake was better. We laughed the whole night long and put frosting on each other while Haymitch took that picture.”, Peeta is still looking at the picture and you feel a ton of emotions going through you at his words. Feelings of safety going through you and flashes of yellow cakes and laughter echoing, the images still blurry in your mind.

“These memories, they helped me get through the torture in the capitol.”, he whispers after a moment, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand at his words feeling tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember them well.”, you whisper after a moment and Peeta looks at you with a kind smile.

“That’s alright, they’ll come back. I’ll help you.”, he says, and you can’t help but let the tear fall down your cheek.

“I’ll help you too, tell me what you need, and I’ll be there.”, Peeta smiles at your words and squeezes your hand. 

“Just you being there is already enough, it gets lonely here.”, you know what he means so you stay there for a moment in silence looking at the picture for a moment.

“I just, I don’t remember anything.”, you whisper after a moment while looking at the picture, longing for the memories to come back. Silence surrounds you for a moment before his voice breaks through.

“Your parents owned the butcher shop that was right next to the bakery, which meant we grew up together. I was reaped during the 74the Hunger Games, and you were reaped for the 75th, which you won. We helped each other through the nights filled with nightmares and I felt responsible for you, like a big brother of some sort.”, you look at him slightly surprised at his words, but he doesn’t look done.

“Still, you looked broken, which made sense after the games you went through. The one time I saw you smile again like before was when you met Finnick during your victory tour. The two of you had spent the early hours of the morning talking together and after that you couldn’t be separated when you were together. When we went back for the 76th Hunger Games you spent the most time with him, laughing and letting him in like you had never done with anyone before.”, tears are forming in your eyes at his words, but you listen to him as he talks.

“You came back one morning with the largest smile I had ever seen, Finnick and you had spent the night together and you couldn’t stop smiling that day which made people look at you like you were crazy. You loved him so much and I know that deep down you still do you just don’t remember it yet.”, a few tears leave your eyes and roll down your cheeks at his words.

“Thank you.”, you manage to whisper, and he looks at you with a kind smile.

“You don’t need to thank me, whatever you want to know you can ask.”, you nod slowly at his words before a voice breaks through the silence letting you know it’s time.

“Guess that is my cue.”, you whisper and Peeta smiles at you sadly.

“I’ll see you next time.”, he says, with a doubtful look but you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“I’ll be back.”, the two of you smile at each other before you leave towards the door feeling slightly lighter.

The door buzzes behind you and as you turn around you see him, Finnick, looking at you slightly surprised. His red eyes make the color of his eyes pop out and before you can say anything you go towards him. He looks at you surprised but he lets you look at him for a moment.

“I know you meant the world to me, help me remember that.”, you whisper, and you don’t know if he heard you before he nods slowly.

“Anything you want.”, he says after a few seconds and you nod quietly, smiling at him softly.

“Thank you.”, you tell him before Boggs appear and you smile one last time towards Finnick before leaving towards Boggs.

His eyes never leave your figure and even though you can’t see it a lovesick smile appears on his face, his heart beating faster.

Taglist: @nobody7102, @universal-s1ut, @wannapizzamymindposts, @ladystratus

[magicjoint]

The kitchen was filled with a homely smell. Meat and vegetables cooking in stock and herbs,A sirens call to hungry stomachs. 

Currently Rove was rolling dumplings, a dusting of flour now spread across the bridge of his nose from a haphazard swipe. Like a dusting of white across pale skin. 

When he noticed Yuu he scoffed slightly, carefully adding the dumplings into the mix praying they would come out fluffy and toasty. 

"I thought I'll handle cooking…since you look like you will set water on fire…." His eyes drifted to Grim. "And you definitely caught the water on fire last time."

it was grim’s stomach in particular that had the both of them going downstairs. yuu was simply heading down to get snacks for later on, they didn’t really eat a lot of full meals. even they couldn’t deny that this smelled quite nice … but grim’s eyes were speaking more volumes for both of them.

which instantly changed the moment he got called out for setting water on fire. “hey! i thought that’s what you’re supposed to do with water when you’re cooking! the book said so!!” yes. to a boil. not evaporation. good thing the human was holding him back, or he might just be inclined to prove otherwise. yuu, on the other hand … “ well, i don’t evaporate water like grim, but i have had several completed preparations fall out of my hands and onto the floor when trying to move them. “

especially during their own cooking classes back home. gosh. how embarrassing.

“ don’t feel like you have to cook for us though. grim eats anything he finds and i’m alright with just snacks. “ speaking of snacks, yuu settled grim down on the floor as they kneeled down to the snacks cabinet, picking out some of their own as they waited for grim to see if he wanted any. “ … actually, i’ll need to get more tuna for you soon … “ a silent mumble between joint-students, now discussing their tuna situation. maybe they needed to start rationing?

[crossedtheline]

👥

Since meeting Rove, Jinx has found it extremely hard to squish a bug. Instead he ignores them or carefully moves them outside. It is not that he has any newfound respect for bugs, but he’s worried that if he kills even a single one Rove will somehow know in an instant and get mad at him, like he has bug telepathy.

If Rove is nearby when he’s removing a creature, he’ll hand the cup full of bug to him instead and tell him to handle it so it doesn’t get hurt. He figures it’ll be safer with Rove than outside anyways.

Also, when he sees a weird looking bug he sends Rove a pic and is like “will this kill me?” 

[marymusic2]

Effie wasn't as stupid as most assumed, she knew something was going on, too many meetings between Haymitch and Cinna, and between them with the new game watcher Plutarch, that most of the victors chosen for the third Quell had a rebellious spark. .

Adding to all this Haymitch had been avoiding her all this time, even though she had given amulets to games to the 4 of them, since they were a team...

She finally manages to find him one night after the games had started, on the penthouse balcony while he was drinking, lately he was drinking less enough to avoid a withdrawal, but he stayed sober most of the time.

“Is this all then? “Effie asks with a broken voice, trying to hold back the tears that are about to overflow.

Haymitch frowns at Effie's question. “What are you talking about?”

"You've spent all these weeks avoiding me, you don't talk to me, you haven't tried anything even though I hinted at you." Effie explodes, she can't help it.

Haymitch clenches his jaw, knowing that the conversation he feared so much was about to come. “I don't feel like you right now, darling,” he says sarcastically.

“So it's true? This is all”

"We were never anything Effie" Haymitch answers with a serious voice, avoiding Effie's gaze. Plutarch and Boggs ordered him to end whatever he had with Effie. It would be safer for her if she had no ties to him due to the start of the rebellion. Although he knows that those words will break Effie's heart, it is the best decision he can make right now to not risk her.

"Not for me, you know," Effie murmurs hoarsely. "Haymitch I..." she tries to say the words that know what will make him run away, but at least they will provoke a reaction in him.

"I told you not to do it, I told you not to fall in love with me, you were a fool to do it, you know that I have only loved one person and you are far from being her..." Haymitch says quickly while drinking his whiskey.

Effie is left speechless as she quickly feels how her cheeks are soaked by her tears, her heart breaking, she always knew that she should not fall in love with Haymitch, but in recent years she believed that something of this had changed, that her feelings could not correspond to him. the same size as her, but at least something...

“I hope I never see you again,” she says while walking as quickly as possible to his attic room so he can fall apart in his privacy...

She knew that from the beginning when she started having a relationship with Haymitch, he was never going to want her for anything other than sex, it's a capitol, he hates the capitol, he hates her... "I was such an idiot," Effie mutters to herself. herself while she bursts into tears feeling her damn heart break for the first time, she cries while gasping for air "he was never going to love me, he hates me"

Haymitch approached the door as he heard Effie cry, his own heart felt tight in his chest, his bile rose to his throat. For years he had been avoiding hurting Effie on purpose, he doesn't like to hurt her or see her cry...

…

Finally, they manage to win the war or well that's what Plutarch tells him, although for him they didn't win anything, they had to kill innocent children to win... He still feels disgust every time he remembers that. When they managed to rescue the other victors there was never any news from Effie, since that last conversation they had in the attic, from that day on she never saw her again. Or to know about her.

“Sir, we have found Effie Trinket,” says a soldier.

Haymitch quickly stands up and goes in search of her, while he feels his stomach turn, he has a bad feeling, he knew that he should not believe Plutarch, he should not leave her, she would not be safe in the capitol, Snow knew about their relationship, and Snow knew about their feelings…

Because if life is so fucking ironic that until he was in 13 and asked for information about her and they said she was missing, he knew that something was wrong that she was in danger, because of him, because he couldn't accept that he loved her and take her to thirteen with him, fight Plutatch with Coins until he was granted immunity, he had to leave her and break her heart while breaking his too...

Each time they got closer to the prison, Haymitch wanted to kill everyone who had hurt her. They finally arrived where Effie was. Upon entering the cell, he saw her on the floor, without even a hint of what Effie was...

"Please, wake up darling," Haymitch murmurs in her ear while placing a soft kiss on her forehead for fear of hurting her, she is so delicate, so fragile, like a staff doll that the slightest sudden movement will end up broken... Although Haymitch knows which already is

He holds her hand as he sits in the same chair in the hospital room of the mansion where he has spent as much time as possible.

For the first time in weeks, Haymitch feels a light squeeze on his hand. "Effie, Effie, sweetheart, I'm here, you're safe, no one will ever hurt you again," he begins to repeat, feeling happy because Effie may wake up... At that, the machine that is connected, your heart starts to make noise...

“No, Effie,” Haymitch shouts when he feels some guards pull him away while a group of doctors enter.

"Sir, please stay away," the doctor shouts as he watches how he begins to try to get Effie's heart to beat again...

…

"I'm sorry," the doctor murmurs. "We couldn't save her," he says, leaving to provide privacy.

…

“No, no Effie, no princess, don't go, you can't go," Haymitch shouts, feeling a pain that hasn't happened in 25 years...

The same thing can't happen again, he can't see someone he loves leave again, he hates himself every time he loves someone that's the end of him, crying over the dead body...

"I couldn't save you... I couldn't save us," he says apologetically as he brushes Effie's cheek. "I love you Princess, sorry for never telling you."

“Sorry for not saving us”…