#shattered illusions

[heygerald]

Unbreakable Gems, Shattered Illusions (THG)

OFC x Finnick Odair

As promised a long time ago, I'm going to start dropping snippets/blurbs/chapters for a Hunger Games story I'm working on; it's not a "true" story in that it will never be complete, but I'm pretty happy with what i've written for it.

Emerald DuChamp stared out across the Capitolite party with distaste. 

Gaudy outfits stretched as far as the eye could see; pink was in season, apparently, and on the far side of the courtyard she could see a few women clamoring around a pink-haired, pink-suited Caesar Flickerman who seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention. Avox brushed by with trays of delicacies to the districts—jumbo shrimp, dates, berries of every kind, chocolate, and more—but she fastidiously wiped her hands and looked away. 

Someone offered her a champagne flute.

She stared at the bubbles for a moment before accepting it. Alcohol was a good way to stave off hunger. It was also a good way to enjoy these types of functions.

  “If you keep scowling like that, you’re going to get frown lines,” Gloss said with an amused smirk. Emerald kept one off of her face. He seemed to understand that she didn’t want to talk to him and, with a cheeky grin, crept closer. “Caesar hosts the best parties in the Capitol.” 

“It’s certainly very pink.” 

“Pink is in style right now,” he shrugged. 

Emerald noted the salmon colored shirt he was wearing. The top two buttons were undone to give a teasing glimpse of the muscle that lay beneath. Months ago, she hated someone like Gloss who lived to look like an airbrushed magazine ad. But Emerald had learned quite a bit over the months; namely, that when a victor was in the Capitol, they had no control over themselves. 

“Where’s your sister?”

“Oh, talking to some Capitolites, enjoying the way they fawn over her. What else?”

“Hm. I’m surprised you aren’t.” 

“Maybe I enjoy our conversations,” he tittered. She gave him a flat glare to which he smiled, plucked some jumbo shrimp from a server’s tray, and corrected. “I was hungry and the food at these events is to die for. Literally.” 

Emerald gnashed her teeth but said nothing about his dark humor.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“You’re skin and bones anymore, DuChamp,” he tutted while stuffing a piece of shrimp into his mouth. There was a faint undertone of worry to his voice, but the roguish smirk he plastered in place did well to hide it from interested ears. “A shame too, you used to be just my type when you still had your arena muscles with you. I like a woman that looks like she could kick my ass and throw me onto the bed.” 

“I still could. Kick your ass, I mean.”

Gloss leant back with an air of disappointment. Another falsity for the room they were stuffed into. Despite their differences, her and the District 1 victor had formed some sort of twisted friendship over the past year of enduring Capitol events. 

Sex, though fun, had never been a part of that.

“Maybe one day, DuChamp. We could rule the Capitol together, you know.”

Em snorted. “We would be a disaster. I never stop scowling and you never stop—”

“Charming women?”

“Opening your mouth.”

Gloss laughed before popping a skewer of melon into his mouth. She watched his lips twist in satisfaction at the sweet tasting fruit, watched a drop of juice drip down his chin, and steadfastly turned away when Gloss simply wiped it away with his bare hands.

Emerald’s hands were never bare anymore.

“Even so, we would have fun while it lasted,” he hummed.

“We would kill each other.” 

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

She rolled her eyes knowing that the dark, kohl lined makeup her stylist had insisted upon for this event would add depth to her scowls. Gloss either didn’t mind or didn’t notice as he simply grabbed another skewer—this one with goat—and gazed over the party with an idle eye. Hardly able to stomach being this close to the buffet, Emerald finished her glass and replaced it with another one.

“If one more person shoves their hand down the front of my dress, I’m going to take one of these pretty little skewers, and poke their eye out,” Johanna Mason groused as she shoved herself between the pair. Her dress was tight and short, much like Emerald’s, but her makeup had been done up in a soft, flirty style that undoubtedly caught several people’s eyes. “Give me that.” 

She snagged the skewer from Gloss’ hand and poked the end with her fingertip.

“It’s not an ax, but it’ll do.” 

He rolled his eyes with a dry smile. “Charming as always, Mason.” 

“Hm, why do I need to be charming when you and Odair are floating around the party? Isn’t that, like, your job?” She tossed the skewer away before snagging a flute of amber colored wine. “Well, don’t stop the conversation on my behalf. What were you two talking about?”

“Emerald’s undying love for me,” Gloss said as she said, “homicide.” 

Johanna paused, glanced between them, and rolled her eyes with a snicker. “That would be something to see. I’m sure Caesar would be delighted if you two went at it in his marble ballroom. Say, do you know the fuckers who chiseled these floors, DuChamp?”

“Do you know the gnomes who planted the garden outside, Mason?”

“Sheesh, what’s gotten you so riled up?”

A lot of things; the party, the greedy Capitolites, the President who she never saw but could always feel his eyes clawing at her back.

“This dress is a size too small,” she said instead, sipping on her wine as Johanna continued her barrage on the food buffet as though it would be her last meal ever. “Sometimes, I think that Digito wants me to pass out from lack of oxygen.” 

“Maybe stop eating. I know the upper districts aren't big on humility when it comes to luxuries like this, but you might actually fit into your dresses if you stepped away from the buffet every once in a while.” 

Emerald snarled around her dark lipstick. “Are you always such a raging bitch or is it just the party that has you in such a fine mood?”

Gloss sighed at the oncoming argument and excused himself. 

Johanna didn’t pay him any attention. She just stuck a large, red strawberry into her mouth while slanting her glare towards Emerald. Finger sticky with its juice, she seemed to know the exact way it caused Emerald’s stomach to curdle nauseously. “Do you have a problem or something, DuChamp? I know that District 2 doesn’t exactly teach manners when you’re growing up, but even Enobaria has more tact than you do in social settings like this.”

“You don’t talk to Enobaria.” 

“Yeah, because she’s a fucking bitch. I was surprised when you seemed to have a sense of humor compared to your mentors, but I guess the fame is starting to go to your head, huh?”

“Maybe it’s all the food I’ve been eating.” 

Johanna rolled her eyes, swallowed a portion of her wine, and popped another berry into her mouth. “You know, I doubt that Caesar keeps any axes in his living room, but we could always find a way to work out whatever your fucking deal is.”

Emerald’s temper flared as she watched the woman lick her fingers slowly.

“I’d certainly be happy for the exercise, but I’m not sure that my dress has enough modesty for that. Yours either.” 

Johanna laughed, enjoying the fire in Emerald’s eyes, and with a relaxed easiness she finished her drink. Setting aside the empty flute, she glanced over Em, hummed, and said, “it’s just as well. You don’t need an ax when you have your hands, do you? Too bad you just got an expensive looking manicure—I’m sure a fight with you would really fuck that up.” 

Emerald’s hand tightened around the stem of her glass and, if she hadn’t been in the middle of a Capitolite party with too many eyes on her, she might have snapped it in half with pure fury.

She couldn’t help but glance at her fingers. 

Clean, pale, not smeared with blood.

Taking a gulping breath, she said,  “anything to be a victor. Right, Johanna?”

Johanna just snickered, grabbed another flute, and disappeared into the crowd. It was just as well because Emerald suddenly felt like her hands were dripping with sticky, messy blood, and as soon as the brunette disappeared she turned on her heel to do the same. Gloss watched her go from his corner of the room—noting the way she seemed not to see anything around her—but when a gaggle of women hounded him for a conversation he let her disappear.

There was nothing he could do for her, anyways. 

A few interested patrons gave Emerald glossy smiles as she strutted past, but she didn’t have the energy to return anything other than a flat scowl. She could hear about it from her Capitol escort later; could listen to him reprimanding her for not having fun when she wasn’t desperate to clean her hands. The party thinned out as she traded ballroom for hallway, then hallway for the luxurious bathroom at the edge of the house.

Emerald barged in without thinking.

She froze when she found a young Capitolite woman wrapped around Finnick Odair, moaning as his hands curled possessively over the shape of her ass, laughing as she wrapped her tongue around his, and then shrieking when she came face to face with Emerald DuChamp.

“Oh! Oh my.” She detached herself from Finnick with a half-hearted giggle. She didn’t seem all that sorry; in fact, she seemed to enjoy the fact that someone else knew she was sneaking around with the Capitol’s Darling. “I’m sorry, how embarrassing.” 

Emerald said nothing.

She just rubbed the skin of her left knuckle, worried about the blood.

“Finnick darling, shame on you for not locking the door,” the woman purred.

“I must have gotten… distracted.” 

Emerald stood as the woman gave him a fierce, lusty smile before sliding off of the sink. Her heels clicked when they met the floor. Fixing her dress, she cleared her throat, and sauntered to the doorway that Em was still standing in. 

“Sorry about that, Emerald,” she said; though, she didn’t sound sorry in the least. “I just can’t keep my hands off of him. I don’t know how you do it, spending all that time together during the games! The victor’s room must be something else entirely.” 

Em swallowed, squeezing her knuckles, but kept her wit’s about her enough to know that anything she said would likely get back to Snow in one way or another. Flashing the woman a half smile, half snarl, she said, “I have a hard time noticing anything other than the games when they’re on.” 

The woman’s lips peeled with excitement.

As if she truly believed that she was getting a conversation with the genuine Emerald DuChamp; as if the rumors about her viciousness were true.

“Of course, how could you not?” she cooed. Then, she coyly looked over her shoulder, lipstick bright around too-white teeth, and glanced over Finnick with a prideful gleam in her eyes. “Finnick dear, you may wish to clean yourself up before returning to the party. I’d hate for everyone to know just what you were up to back here.” 

Finnick’s smirk deepened. “No one but DuChamp, you mean.”

She laughed. It sounded too much like a bell, and Emerald couldn’t keep herself from rolling her eyes in disdain. Not that it mattered. The woman let the door close behind her with another glance around, her heels disappearing down the marble hallway, and Emerald didn’t care that Finnick Odair was standing before her half-dressed.

She stepped up to the sink and began washing her hands.

“Sorry about that,” he said. Emerald found that no one actually sounded sorry when they were apologizing anymore. “It’s the cupcakes. They make it hard to keep your hands to yourself.” 

“I doubt you need an excuse to have raging hormones with anyone, Odair,” she snapped. It came out more aggressive than she had truly intended—a by-product of the invisible blood still lingering on her hands—and after grabbing the soap bar, she faintly relaxed in the quiet of the bathroom. “I didn’t eat the cupcakes anyways, but now I definitely won’t.” 

Finnick tutted while adjusting his hair. “It’s in most of the food, darling. If Caesar Flickerman is hosting a party, you can well enough assume that anything with icing on it is also laced with aphrodisiacs.” 

“I haven’t eaten anything.” 

She could feel his eyes on her as she continued to scrub her hands, pausing only long enough to find another speck of blood that was no longer there, before submerging them in the soapy water once more. 

“Did you go digging in the garden?” he inquired with a coiled smirk.

“Hm. You should wash your hands too, you know, after digging through—”

“Portia.” He sounded much too amused for her liking. “Her name is Portia.” 

“Usually I get someone’s name before I see them getting off.” 

Finnick well and truly laughed at her comment, unperturbed by her venomous attitude, and Emerald glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He had a nice smile when it wasn’t so forced, and pretty eyes when they weren’t so strained. 

“I always wondered why we didn’t spend more time together,” he tutted while smoothing out the rumpled collar of his shirt. Emerald caught a spot of pink lipstick on his neck. The water turned cold as she started to scrub beneath her nails thinking about the manicure she would likely be stripping off in her haste. “Everyone says that you’re like Brutus and Enobaria, but you have more personality than the two of them combined. Still, maybe it’s better for my ego if we don’t become good friends. I’m not sure I could handle my big head when you’re there to knock me down a few pegs.” 

“Friends,” she scoffed. “Are you allowed to have any of those?”

The question wasn’t directed at him, and she hated that he could tell with a single glance at her tight features. The question was directed at all of them—at her, at Johanna, at Gloss and Cashmere—at the entire population of victors who didn’t have any choice over what they did in their lives.

Just like Gloss didn’t pick his shirt.

And Finnick Odair most certainly didn’t pick the women he fucked in the bathroom.

She didn’t realize he had leant forward until the water shut off. Emerald stared at her hands for a moment noting how raw and chapped they were, before startling when Finnick gently offered her a towel.

“Thanks,” she whispered. 

“Not everything is laced with drugs,” he assured her quietly. It was strange how quickly conversations could change their tune in the Capitol, but victors were well experienced in hearing the things that were never spoken aloud. “You should eat something. Caesar’s parties are known to last for hours and I doubt you’ll make it that long if you keep downing wine.” 

“I can’t—” She caught herself, cleared her throat, and said, “I don’t eat with my hands.” 

Green eyes slanted to the hands she had just scrubbed for far too long in the bathroom sink before returning to her tight, impassive features. Emerald tried not to think about the way Thorn Hadley had looked at her in much the same way right before she killed him—like he had spent so long living under a single assumption, but finally got a glimpse into her soul that allowed him to realize who she really was beneath everything.

“The Avoxes will bring you a fork if you ask.”

“I’m not all that hungry.” He didn’t believe her, and oddly enough, neither did she. But Finnick didn’t push the topic; he just grinned at himself in the mirror before striding towards the door. “Finnick.” 

The blonde swung his head back towards her. 

Emerald stepped closer and with her crumpled paper towel she gently wiped the smeared makeup off of the delicate skin behind his ear. “Lipstick.” 

“I’m not wearing any,” he joked.

“Portia’s.” She tossed the ruined towel into the garbage bin. “You probably don’t want the next girl to see it or else she might start a riot.” 

Something darkened at the mention of the next girl, but Finnick didn’t deny it.

What good would that do when they both knew he had an obligation to uphold? Emerald suffered the same fate, if not the same obligation, and she knew that once she left the bathroom she would be expected to smile like there was nothing wrong.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name, sugar. Maybe we are becoming friends.” 

Emerald released a low sound from the back of her throat, shaking her head as she started to pick at her hands once more. She saw red painting her clean fingers, could smell pennies mixing with the scent of his sea salt cologne, and as she wrung her palms together she found Finnick's brow furrowed strangely on his forehead as if she were a puzzle he were trying to decipher Something ugly coated the back of her mouth.

“I’m not very good at friends, Odair, and I doubt that you need many anyways.” 

“I could always use a friend.” 

She didn’t like the simple way he put it—as if it was even possible that they could be anything other than strangers to one another—but Emerald didn’t have time to argue because in the next moment Finnick was striding out of the bathroom with his head held high, that damned flirtatious smirk plastered back onto his face as if nothing had ever happened.

As if they weren’t murderers with blood on their hands.

Emerald twisted her hands, glanced at the sink, and then followed him with a sigh knowing that no amount of soap in the world would ever truly make them clean. 

[killldeer]

i am going so so so insane over grian’s “shes dead scar. you won” and evidently for an ENTIRELY different reason than everyone else. like i get the ppl seeing the warm fuzzy desertduo “grian standing over scar’s shoulder with a proud smile” moment and all but i saw those little messages and my heart just fucking BROKE. something about the no-punctuation-no-caps just made it feel so devastating, like grian was not at all happy to say it. scar was continuing to call after pearl because they really were just messing around by the time it was down to them, like he was eager to keep having fun with it, and grian almost just had to break it to him that it was over. and that he was alone. again.

i just. oh man. ohhhh my god man

[simplydnp]

the october 19th post is going to be their silhouettes behind the gay flag. concert in the background. you can't quite tell what they're doing. it's captioned 'no seriously imagine it'

[fred-the-dinosaur]

loving the glass onion posting but I'm really sick of the 'birdie Jay stops flirting with blanc because wearing sweatpants makes you 'fruity'' or whatever post. because:

a. bit sick of the idea that we're still perpetuating homophobic and toxic masculinity principles in this day and age, at least amongst ourselves. straight people clocking gay men for wearing a 'girly' sweatpant company feels threatening, not really like a cute queer in-joke. especially given the current climate.

b. I don't think birdie Jay WOULD stop flirting with a gay man. I bet she's the kind of woman who likes to put her hands ALL OVER her hot gay friends at the club because 'is fine you're GAY and I'm a WOMAN and it's impossible to sexually harrass a MAN right?'

c. THAT'S NOT THE REASON. she doesn't make sweatpants for her friends to wear. she makes sweatpants to profiteer off the pandemic and lockdown. blanc saying he wears sweetie pants tells her he's not a disruptor. he's not in her class. he's a MARK.

THAT is why he's off the flirting menu.

(Also this is exactly blanc's game. we know he's doing this. he's TRYING to look hokum and naive. he's trying to make them underestimate him and distract from Helen being a fish out of water too. pity this little bit worked on you too.)

[im-yotsu]

POV: You open Sabine's room door on the way back home

[b0tster]

my micolash work is nothing but animating crazy run cycles, my bunlith animation is nothing but animating crazy run cycles,,,

[57sfinest]

also yall we need to step back from the harryvision and understand that kim, at his core, is a loser (affectionate) like everyone else. so much out there wants to portray him as limitless patience, great cook, super organized, good handwriting, nice tasteful living quarters etc and that's fun to contrast him to harry but well i am here to RUIN that we need to take off the du bois glasses and appreciate kim for the weirdguy that he is. he has horrific fits of road rage and harry genuinely fears for his life riding along with him and witnessing the generational curses this man is capable of unleashing upon the stupid little fucks that cut him off on the 8/81. he has never had the time or space or budget to learn to cook so he lives off deli sandwiches and butter noodles and the occasional grab-and-go fruit. he writes so much so frequently with such awful handwriting that he has invented a new form of shorthand and the moralintern is contacting him to create a cipher system for them. he has no resources to furnish and maintain a nice flat so it's like a slightly gentrified r/malelivingspace but with a table for his sewing machine and there's scrap fabric and thread and half-pinned half-hemmed pants strewn about the place. there are absolutely a bunch of shitty mockups of his old wirral character in the backs of his notebooks and he hasn't played it in years but if he ever picks it back up then his minmax high int high dex definitely-not-a-self-insert sidhe artificer is READY. everyone add your weirdguy kim thoughts NOW 👇

[fereldanwench]

Arasaka gave me what no one else could--values I could honor, live for. This was most important. You dirty your hands for money. I, in the name of principles.

⚠️ do not reupload or edit my shots without my permission ⚠️

[misteria247]

I like to think that Twilight is like the most responsible and cautious one in the chain of Links (heh), but then I remember all the batshit unhinged canon game events that I'd witnessed and realize that he's just as chaotic as the rest of them he's just incredibly good at hiding it. Some of these insane moments are-

My guy jumping off Hylia bridge, wrestling goats on a farm with his bare hands, fighting Gorons in a sumo competition with his bare strength alone save for the iron boots to help weigh him down. Fighting a monster on a crumbling burning bridge in a jostling competition to the death, literally using a Twili Imp as a marker to jump from precarious places and distances that would normally be impossible, climbing tight ropes as a fucking wolf. Fighting giant corrupted Twili monsters that can canonically turn others into one of them, again as a fucking wolf by biting and mauling them too death.

These are just some of the more tamer things btw.

[bitchthefuck1]

Rewatching succession it really is wild to see Kendall and Shiv convince themselves over and over again that they can "fix ATN/Waystar from the inside" only to completely abandon their morals the minute it gives them a strategic advantage.

When they're on the outside it's an endless diatribe about how evil and rotten the company is to its core, but the second they get the slightest whiff of power they suddenly decide the problems are actually really manageable and that with the right leadership it could be a force for good, and like...the saddest part is that they genuinely seem to believe that.

[arendaes]

9 Lots of People You Want to Know Better

Tagged by @dmagedgoods and @undyingembers; thank you!

Three ships:

My Throuple, Ariadne/Daeran/Woljif, of course. Honestly they've been taking up about 98% of the shipping space in my brain lately.

Thanks to some spicy fanart posted on Patreon I've been thinking a lot about Alistair from DAO today so naturally I'm thinking about Alistair/Saskia.

Along those lines Howl/Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle, for a lot of reasons.

Last Song:

According to Spotify it was Degenerates by I the Mighty (I just listened to it last night which makes it sad I couldn't remember lol)

Last Movie:

I think it might have been Furiosa? I don't watch many movies and that's the last one I remember at least

Currently Reading:

Almost done with Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir! I've enjoyed it but it's not giving me the same brainworms it has other people. I think it's because I've never really been into necromancy and a book that features it this prominently was just never going to hit me like it does other people. Also Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis. I'm not far into it but already I've learned things (I did not know how many prisons are in California alone) and making me re-evaluate my own beliefs and knowledge of the prison system.

Currently Watching:

Ok, laugh at me if you want but I was in the mood to re-watch my comfort show...which is The Golden Girls 😂

Currently Eating:

Nothing but I am drinking some sparkling water

Currently Craving:

The drive to finish the first chapter of my Fairy Tale AU! 😩

Favourite colour:

Purple!

Favourite flavour:

Cherry!

Current obsession:

Ariadne forever and always! Really looking forward to Fields of Mistria hitting early access here in a few weeks so that could also be my next big one 👀

Last thing I googled:

Duotang. There was a poll asking if I knew what it was. The answer was no, and I was surprised to find out what it was!

Favourite season:

Fall/autumn! Cooler weather, warm drinks, deliciously spiced everything, my birthday...it's just the best time of the year

Skill I’d like to learn:

Drawing! I'd love to do little doodles of my OCs and book and video game characters (and yes, I know the only thing standing in my way is myself)

Best Advice:

Right now, "write the story you want to see". I have no idea if my fairy tale AU will be to anyone's tastes but my own, but I have to try!

No-pressure tags below the cut! (Opt in/out)

@first-talon @miseryscrowned @gutterspeak @fantastic-mr-corvid @mathlann

@amatres @starlightcleric @arrow90-art @silversiren1101 @blighted-elf

@mxanigel @poetikat @outeremissary @valiantvillain @dragonologist-phd

@dujour13 @captastra @spyridonya @yunessa @eurekq

@the-raging-tempest @serenbach86 @jean-dieu @ravencrowley7 @forestdragoncat

[snow-au-love]

Tickle Time!!

[littlestardescendants]

I get this strange vibe that if ever Minhyeok and MC (Canon MC not *our* awesome ass MCs) fucked their hyperfixation on each other would sort of fade away.

Like maybe it's just my skittish anxious ass but I feel like once they have sex it'd be like "Oh... Okay what now?" And then either they go back to a casual friendship or just sort of begin to let each other go.

I just get this weird vibe- like is it weird to read it like that?

[prototypelq]

Let's press F in chat for the amazing and atmospheric concept art of DMC5, and how the game is just...devoid of any colour, except some rare cases.

[snaileer]

As a very dedicated energy drinker (addicted to caffeine) who also enjoys the grunge vibes of monster energy(purely because those ragged little lines match my life) and Bang, Red Bull, etc, can I just say

F those stupid fricking aesthetic looking energy drink cans that are becoming the style now.

Celsius I was fine with.

The hundred others that followed with like fruity designs and matte finish cans… 🤢

You should not be able to drink your tasty little 200mg while matching it to your ‘I have my life together’ fit.

You don’t, and I should be able to recognize the hot mess in a can from at least a distance of 10ft. Vision blurred from sleep deprivation or not.

[darcyolsson]

i was going to say smth funny about this but actually. throughout the whole novel theres obviously an empasis on the idea that the ark/jowan is mostly just a way to escape real life for angel, and these lines are the first time we see her sort of start to acknowledge that, and i think it's interesting that that happens through juliet who we later find out is already a lot more detached than her. i think theres something to be said here about juliet understanding that the boys are real life, three-dimensional people in a way that angel can't because juliet had to break free of the imagined image that she had of herself and her parents and her life and step into a more realistic vision of that, which allows her to break the imagined image she has of the boys too, something that angel can't do yet because she doesn't have that kind of perspective yet. not of her own life, but also interestingly not of juliet's life. there's loads of little hints dropped about what's going on with juliet (mac even explicitly references it) but angel won't/can't see that reality. angel doesn't just live in a world where the ark is still the most important thing to her, in her reality the same is true for juliet, and she (subconsciously) refuses to see it any other way even when presented with evidence that says the opposite.