#* effie's closet.

[marlsswrites]

Safety and sweat

Ice skating AU, part 5!!

August 5th - words: 665

First part Previous part

“Great practice Regulus.” Effie praised. “I would stay to chat but I have to shoot, I think my sons outside-“

Regulus began to nod his head, kicking his skates from his feet while he held onto the barrier of the rink. But then the noise of rubber shoes squeaking on the floor, travelling towards Regulus and Effie next to him.

“Hi.” He pants, leaning over his legs before looking up with a smile.

It had been exactly a week since Regulus bumped into James, the cute man from the bookstore, and coincidentally his coaches son. He was wearing the same football shirt, it was awfully tight around his biceps - he tried to avert his gaze, he really did - but it was so tempting.

“Hi James.” Effie sighed out while Regulus failed to hide a small laugh under his breath at the look on James’ face.

“Hi.” Regulus copied, a smile tucked away into the hidden corners of his lips.

Effie looked between the two a few times before only shrugging and huffing out a breath. “Wait here James, I’m just going to pick my bag up from the lockers, see you tomorrow Regulus.” Smiling, she pointed to the direction of the lockers, leaving her son and Regulus staring clearly at each other.

“Sorry, I ran here from football practice.” The brunette chuckled, then he did the one thing Regulus was sure would cause his death.

Honestly he wouldn’t be complaining if that was the last thing he saw before he died, at least he’d be at peace.

The man lifted his shirt up and swiftly wiped the sweat from his forehead, and - god - was he doing this on purpose? He swore he could see the muscles move on his toned stomach, the way a black inky tattoo emerged from his sinfully low risen shorts - it looked like a pair of antlers.

“Why exactly?” Regulus cocked his eyebrow, turning away to hide the flush from his cheeks, god he hates feeling like this. Flustered, small, sappy and stupid.

“I don’t- uh.” James laughed, it set off a whole new crashing, cold, salty yet warm wave of emotions off in Regulus’ stomach. “I don’t really know.” He snorted.

“Wow.” Regulus chuckled along, rolling his eyes. “Solid answer.”

“Shut up.” The brunette snorted. “You look really familiar?” He said after a minute of silence, eyeing Regulus up and down like he was a new work of art in a museum, he couldn’t quite place how he felt about that.

Regulus turned his head to see James still piercing his eyes through his own grey ones. He tilted his head to the side, vision of James partially blocked by the black curl that fell into his eye. “Yeah, you look like my friend.”

“Sirius Black, per chance?”

“Yeah… do you-“ He narrowed his eyes, before letting out a light gasp and parted his lips. “You’re his ‘little brother Reggie’” James gaped. “I thought you were like, 10.”

“What the fuck?” Regulus hit his arm and gave a mock offended gasp.

James let out the sweetest little giggle. “I’m calling you Reggie from now on.”

“Potter I swear to god-“

“Cute little Reggie.”

He only groaned, hiding his head in his own black curls as he dropped his forehead into his arms that leant onto the barrier. The one thing he could hear was James’ laughs and teases as Regulus cursed at him, but of course he didn’t mean it.

Normally he would, that was the thing. Last time Barty called him ‘Reggie’ he tripped him up, mostly because that name was reserved for Sirius and Sirius only. But for some reason he… liked when James did it? Fuck, this is disgusting.

It really isn’t though, it’s just new, and Regulus hates new. Even when it could bring the best things into his life, he only feels the need to push them away and stay where he’s been stood for the past year.

Safe.

But what is safe anymore really?

[scorpiomoon222]

effy stonem wearing a sid & nancy tee and black ripped jeans

[alliangels]

going out tops 🤗

[bestnoncannonship]

The public (my Friend) has spoken. Now you all have to look at the Effie Trinket closet cosplay I put together for @kneelbeforeclefairy last night!!

Why did we do this??? It was raining and what else does one do on a rainy Saturday night?? (Also there's an inside joke with my coworker about an interview with his Hunger Games-sona, a late night tv host named Cicero "Chuckles" Flickerman, but that's a long story. (It's not that long. I interviewed her as Effie cause we commit to the bit. I'll post the interview with Effie if ya want)).

It's literally a dress she's owned since the original movie came out, and old fascinator we've had since those were in, a hairbow on a choker, and a pink ponytail fall I got as a free bonus with another wig that I clipped to the back of her head, brushed forward, and styled into an Effie shape. And of course the Capitol makeup. But what makes her Effie work is the bitchy little facial expressions.

(What did Haymitch just say to elicit that bitchy gaze???)

So yeah.....Closet Cosplay is a dying art but I miss it.

Bonus: the Effie-After-Hours look that Haymitch sees every night below the cut ;)

EFFIE DRINKING WINE IN HER DRESSING GOWN.

[killmymind]

bought a strawberry necklace:)

[berrynooboos]

Hello all! I have a pretty decent sized gift for y'all to celebrate the Sims 25th Anniversary but also to welcome newcomers to the community, and welcome back anyone returning.

Firstly I bring you, Berry's Closet Volume 2. A set of recolors for each of the clothing categories! These are for Adult Male.

THIS crop t-shirt by @kurimas retextured with a sweater texture, and colored with pastel goth imagery. Mesh included.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

THIS 4T2 Skirt recolored in galaxy print gradients. The belts and shoes for all the recolors are white. Mesh included.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

THIS F2M dress in gradient galaxy patterns. Similar to the skirt, the heels are all white. Mesh included.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

My 4T2 Lace panties in pastel colors, and a bonus pastel rainbow recolor! No mesh required for this one.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

MDP's 4T2 SP16 Pajama's + Dee's CU conversion and TU Conversion, recolored in cute patterns for the pants, and matching colors for the tops. These come in CU-AU, meshes included. Just saw there is a toddler conversion. I'll work on adding the patterns to that as well.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

THESE retro swimsuits recolored in cute patterns. No meshes needed for this one either.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

MDP's 4T2 Cheerleader recolored in pastel galaxy print. I plan on making my own Berry High School, with mascots so I'll do proper recolors of these later, and include the female version too. Mesh included.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

Lastly, Polychrome's Nightbloom Outwear, the skirts + scarfs come in different galaxy prints, and the sweaters are colored to match. All the boots for these are white. Mesh included.

[Bigger Picture] [SWATCH] [Download]

Next up for download, is a bunch of eyes, skins and makeup in my colors!

GhostySim's 4T2 Cybernetic eyes, resclera'd. These come with both white and black sclera!

And original eyeset, particularly, the eyes I made for my TS4 sims. These also come with both black and white sclera.

Two eyesets that are fully colored. MouseyBlue's Alien Dust eyes, and Rensims's Alien eyes!

The last set of eyes are THESE that I made forever ago. These only come with black sclera.

[EYES DOWNLOAD]

Bruno's aSimmetry Eyeshadow

@pooklet Lilith + DigitalAngels mashup.

Jessi's glitter eyeshadow.

@furbyq-sims's Midnight Creeper Lips

Polychrome's Called Love Lips

@pooklet's ombre lipset.

Lilith's Effy Nosemask

@kahlenas Lilith's Pancakes Nosemask

@eltaninz Smooth Sailing blush with added freckles.

[MAKEUP DOWNLOAD]

These skins were done with Lilith's Honey and Freckled Honey (My favorite skinset and pretty much all I use.) I also made a version with a crystal like texture which I plan to use for all my aliens. The crystal texture is suppose to resemble My Little Pony crystal ponies. I included a file to show how I genecized them. They are also townified.

[SKINS DOWNLOAD]

Credits: @kurimas, @monilisasims, @skulldilocks, @mdpthatsme, @deedee-sims, Polychrome, MouseyBlue, Rensim, GhostySim, @digitalangels, @lilith-sims, @dirk-dreamer, @furbyq-sims, @pooklet

(If I forgot anyone, please let me know)

[taylorswiftstyle]

Attending Super Bowl LIX | New Orleans, LA | February 9, 2025

Saint Laurent ‘Double Breasted Blazer’ - $3,253.00 Alaïa ‘Sleeveless Ribbed Bodysuit’ - $1,300.00 Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale Bracelet’ - not available online  Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale 14K Yellow Gold Ruby and Diamond Ring’ - $12,739.00 Cartier ‘Panthère de Cartier Medium Watch Diamond’ - $32,200.00 Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale 14K Yellow Gold Baguette Cut Ruby and Diamond Band’ - $5,297.00 Logan Hollowell ‘Eau de Rose Cut Iris Diamond Hand Chain’ - $4,350.00 Lorraine Schwartz custom necklace Monday Denim ‘Crystal Embellished Shorts’ - not available to purchase Givenchy ‘Red Nano Voyou Bag’ - $990.00 Paris Texas ‘Over The Knee Boot’ - $1,120.00

One of my favourite factors of game day fashion is how it creates the perfect vacuum for a style case study. There are constants and constraints when dressing for a repeatable event like this. Factors that make it so you can create a storyline of outfits that unfold over a period of time that each uniquely stand on their own, but that also create an opportunity to have them “speak” to one another. 

A Blazer of Glory: Taylor in a blazer and thigh high boots is my version of winning the Super Bowl. If I were to pick a staple in my own closet - and an item I always get a thrill seeing Taylor wear - it’s a blazer. So I was delighted to see her in one (even briefly) that’s sharp, chic, and that sandwich styles with her OTK white boots. While I personally love it and am delighted we got some footage of her wearing this polished layer, I actually think this look says a lot more without it. Sans blazer, the combination of a white tank and denim shorts immediately brought to my mind the images of her very first Chiefs game ever. Back then - September 2023 - Taylor wore a soft white eyelet trim tank top by Doen paired with washed black denim shorts by Ksubi. This ensemble is like a reference to that. With some distinct elevated upgrades to illustrate how far we’ve come since then, of course. Like some fierce stiletto boots > sneakers and sparkly shorts > distressed shorts. 

I Like Shiny Things: In addition to letting her bejeweled, the shorts reference some of the most significant milestones in Taylor’s tenure as sportsball spectator. Combined with her white tank, the outfit resembles her very first game day ensemble from September 2023. Though her denim then, by Ksubi, was distressed over embellished. They also nod to her 2024 season opener jean shorts by Grlfrnd - thigh high boots included. Most importantly, they make a great year over year comparison to the crystal trim denim pants by Area worn to her first Super Bowl �� last year’s LVIII. 

Re-e-e-d: For the minutest amount of red, Taylor accessorized her outfit with a ‘Nano’ bag by Givenchy. According to my archives via TSS, this is a first for her to carry the brand via a bag. As is typical for Taylor’s game day fashion, most of her jewelry was also rendered in stones coloured Chiefs red. The piece that most caught my eye was her hand chain and how it riffs on her recent love of unique chain jewelry, including a certain thigh chain that was repurposed into a necklace here. 

Photo by Gregory Shamus via Getty Images

[foxybrownsugababe]

𝐋𝐚 𝐍𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Aaron Pierre x Black!OC & Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - In which this random chilly summer night, where two young women sneak their way into the most famous club in town, leads to connection they’ve never thought would happen. The Night Awaits.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Flirting, tension, slight suggestiveness, strong language

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I don’t have much to say besides that this idea came to me after watching MLK/X and seeing how fine Aaron look and Kelvin in the Elvis movie. The rest of it sort of just came together.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6,112+

𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟐, 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟐

The moon hung high over Baldwin Hills, bathing the neighborhood in silver light, but inside The Greer household, tucked in the well sized room near the back of the homes, the only glow came from the dim lamp on a nightstand. The room was quiet—too quiet. If the girls parents heard even the faintest giggle or shuffle, the night would be over before it even started.

On the other side of the room, a brown skinned woman stood in front of the mirror, twisting side to side, admiring herself in a sleek black dress she had swiped from her mother’s closet. She grinned at her reflection, running her hands over the smooth and tight fabric, letting out a quiet ooh as she posed dramatically.

“Girl, would you just look at me?” She whispered excitedly, swaying her hips. “I swear I look just like Diahann Carroll.” She grinned as she waved around the small ascot the that was attached to the he her when she took the dress.

The other girl, Loretta, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed in nothing but her plain day clothes, lifted a skeptical brow as she brought down the magazine from her face. “Diahann Carroll? Where?”

“Right here, baby.” Effie twirled, her curls bouncing as she turned to face her friend. “Tell me I ain’t the finest thing this side of California?” She said, placing her hands on her hips and looking at the girl. Before she could even make a smart quip that she knew Claudette would laugh at, she had a stern finger pointed at her. “See, ya can’t.” She said with a large smile.

Loretta huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You stole that from your mama, Effie. Wouldn’t that make her the finest thing on this side of California?” She asked, tilting her head at the girl.

Effie waved a dismissive hand. “Borrowed.” She clarified as she rolled her eyes. “And I’d say she wouldn’t miss it, but you know she’d notice in a heartbeat. That woman checks her closet like a bank vault. You know, six sisters and all.” She shrugged as she smoothed the dress over her hips again, then turned back to the mirror with a dreamy sigh. “But it’s worth it. When I step into La Nuit Rouge tonight, I’m gon’ look like I belong there.” She gushed as she fixed her hair and posed some more in front of the mirror.

Loretta didn’t say anything. She only stared at her best friend before her eyes drifted off to the dress laid out at the foot of her bed—the moving navy blue with a pop of red near the collar, one her mother’s favorite. It didn’t necessarily fit the vibe of the establishment she could possibly sneaking off to, but out of all her church going mother’s clothing, this was probably the most risqué. She had taken it out hours ago, even held it up in front of the mirror, but now she couldn’t bring herself to put it on.

Effie must have noticed her hesitation because she stopped admiring herself long enough to glance over. “What’s the matter, Retta? You ain’t got cold feet now, have you?”

Loretta eyes met hers briefly as she bit the inside of her cheek. “I just…” She trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. “I don’t know if I should go.” She mumbled with a shrug, but able to meet her best friend gaze.

Effie’s eyes went wide with exaggerated disbelief. She quickly crossed the room, dropping onto the bed next to Loretta, nearly bouncing them both. “Girl! We done spent the past two weeks plannin’ this night, and you talkin’ ‘bout staying home?” She said rather loudly considering they were trying to be discreet.

“I am home,” Loretta mumbled tensely, signaling for her to lower her voice. She then looked toward the closed bedroom door, her ears tuned to the soft murmur of her parents’ voices in the other room.

Effie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. We are finally of age, Ruby Mae. We got the hookup at the best club in town, and all you gotta do is put on that dress and walk out the door.” She nudged her with an elbow. “Come on now. You think I’d let anything happen to you?” She asked the girl softly, budding her a bit.

Loretta hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns over her duvet. Truthfully, it wasn’t safety she was worried about. It was the unknown. She wasn’t like Claudette—bold, fearless, always looking for the next thrill. She preferred quiet places, familiar things. But La Nuit Rouge? That place was legendary. It had history, secrets, and sometimes even scandalous rumors. It was the kind of club where people made memories that lasted a lifetime.

And yet, here she was, sitting in plain clothes, scared to even step into it. The strict way she was raised had scared her off from anything that wasn’t the library and Bible study.

Effie must have sensed her doubt because her voice softened. “Loretta Mae.” She said, reaching over and reassuringly squeezing her friend’s hand. “You only get one life, girl. One. And you gon’ spend it sittin’ up in this room forever?” She questioned, tilting her head down to meet the her eyes.

Her words caused Loretta to sigh, staring at the blue dress again. She imagined herself wearing it, imagined the way it would flow around her legs when she walked. She imagined stepping into La Nuit Rouge, seeing all those beautiful, glamorous people, hearing the music that made the walls hum.

And then she imagined letting Effie go without her.

With a slow breath, she nodded. “Alright.” She whispered.

Effie grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s my girl!” She jumped up, grabbing the dress from the bed and shoving it into Loretta’s hands. “Hurry up and get dressed. I want to be in that club before they run out of all the good liquor.”

Loretta let out a small gasp. “Liquor?” She questioned as she threw the dress from her arms.” You didn’t say nothing about drinking!” She whisper-shouted, standing up stood from the bed.

Effie stifled a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, hush, it ain’t like I said we gotta get drunk. But come on now, you think folks go to La Nuit Rouge for just the music? This ain’t no Sunday service, Retta.”

Loretta folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “You better not try to get me in no trouble.”

Effie clutched her chest like she’d been wounded. “Trouble? Me?” She mockingly questioned but Loretta just gave her a look, causing her to sigh. “Alright, alright,” Effie relented, still grinning. “We’ll go, have us a good time, and if—and that’s a big if—you feel like takin�� a little sip, well… I won’t stop you.” She shrugged carelessly.

Loretta shook her head, exhaling as she placed a hand over her heart. “Lord, what am I getting myself into?” She whispered to herself, glancing up at the ceiling as if she was speaking to the man in the heavens.

Effie squealed, grabbing her friend’s hands and bouncing on her toes. “The best night of our lives, that’s what.” She turned toward the small vanity mirror and gave herself one last look, adjusting her curls and making sure her makeup was correct. Then she twirled around dramatically, striking a pose. “Alright, darling, time to be somebody.”

Loretta still had her doubts, but as she watched Effie’s excitement, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe La Nuit Rouge would be more than just a place—they’d walk in as two ordinary girls and come out as something bigger. “Let’s go.” She finally said, moving near her door to slip on her shoes.

Effie turned just as Loretta was reaching for her shoes and let out an exaggerated gasp. “Now hold on just a minute, miss girl—what do you think you’re doin’?” She questioned with a dramatically arched brow.

Loretta froze, eyes darting up to her friend. “…Puttin’ on my shoes?” She mumbled as she stood up straight.

“In that?” Effie pointed at Loretta’s plain blouse and skirt like it was an offense to her very being. “Oh, no, ma’am. You are not steppin’ foot in La Nuit Rouge dressed like you just came from grocery shopping with your mama.” She sassed, folding her arms as she looked at the girl.

Loretta shifted with her arms crossed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Ain’t nobody gonna be lookin’ at me no how.” She shrugged.

Effie clutched her temples dramatically. “Retta, I swear, you ‘bout to make me pass out right here.” She muttered. Then, before Loretta could react, Effie swooped down, grabbed the dress from the foot of the bed, and marched over to her. “You stole it from your mama’s closet for a reason,” Effie insisted, shaking the dress at her. “Now you better put it on before I do it for you.”

Loretta huffed, throwing her head back. “It’s too much.” She whined softly.

“It’s actually not enough, but this is the only thing your mother had.” Effie corrected. “Now put. It. On.” She expressed, slapping the dress into the girls chest.

Loretta bit her lip, hesitating. The dress was simple but beautiful—soft, sleek, a deep blue with delicate trimming. It was a woman’s dress, not something a quiet, stay-at-home girl like her wore. “I don’t know, Effie…” She mumbled.

Effie groaned, then placed her hands on her hips. “You scared?”

Loretta snapped her head up, frowning. “No.” She said firmly.

Effie smirked with a tilt of her head. “Then prove it.”

Loretta glared at her friend for a moment longer before snatching the dress out of her hands with a sharp exhale. “Turn around.” She hissed softly. Effie grinned in victory and spun on her heels, humming to herself as Loretta quickly changed. When she finally turned back around, her eyes went wide.

“Ohhh, Ruby Mae,” Effie breathed, stepping forward and grabbing Loretta’s hands as she eyed the favorite that hugged the woman. “You look so good.” She gushed, smiling at her best friend.

Loretta shifted awkwardly. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Effie grinned before spinning her toward the small mirror on the vanity. “Look at you. A proper lady of the night.” She whispered.

“What?” Loretta’s asked with a scrunched face, snapping her head over to her friend due to her choice of words. Claudette waved the girl off, shaking her head. “Not like that, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” Loretta responded before looking back town the mirror. She took in her own reflection and, for the first time, saw someone else staring back. Someone… different.

Maybe even a somebody. Someday.

Effie squeezed her shoulders as she placed her head next to Loretta’s, cheesing at her through the mirror. “Alright now, sugar. Let’s go knock ‘em dead.” She grinned.

And this time, when Loretta slipped on her shoes, she felt a little taller.

➽───────────────❥

The night air was thick with the scent of California jasmine and the lingering warmth of the day’s sun, but the closer they got to La Nuit Rouge, the more the air seemed to shift—thickening with the electricity of possibility.

Claudette, or Effie as she preferred, walked with a pep in her step, practically bouncing as she clung to Loretta’s arm. The streetlights flickered above them, casting a soft glow over their path, but it was nothing compared to the distant haze of La Nuit Rouge glowing like a beacon in the Baldwin Hills night.

Loretta, on the other hand, was tense. She clutched her small purse tightly, glancing around as they approached the alleyway leading to the back entrance. “Are you sure Rodney’s working tonight?” She whispered, wrapping her coat around herself tightly.

Effie scoffed. “Would I have us sneakin’ out just to get turned away? Of course he’s workin’. And if he ain’t, well…” She paused briefly before turning to flash a grin at Loretta. “We’ll figure somethin’ out.” She shrugged.

Loretta wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying. Especially knowing Claudette.

They turned the corner, and there it was—La Nuit Rouge. It wasn’t like the grand, flashy establishments downtown, but it had its own kind of magic. The deep red glow of its sign hummed against the brick, casting long shadows on the pavement. A velvet rope stretched in front of the entrance, guarded by two large men in sharp suits, while clusters of sharply dressed folks whispered and waited for their turn to get in, others sitting around in nice cars, just wanting to see who entered and if they could hear nothing from the inside. The low thrum of a bass leaked from inside, promising music, movement, life.

Effie squeezed Loretta’s arm. “Lord, would you look at it.” She whispered, her voice practically dripping with excitement.

Loretta swallowed, taking in the scene. The men wore fine suits with crisp pocket squares, their shoes shined so well they caught the light. The women dripped elegance—silk and satin hugging their curves, lips painted deep reds and plums.

Effie turned to her, eyes shining. “You ready?” She grinned.

Loretta exhaled. “…No.” She swallowed.

Effie cackled and tugged her forward. “Come on, scaredy cat.” And Loretta had no room to protest.

They approached the door, and sure enough, there was Rodney—tall, lean, and with a smug expression that said he knew he had the power to make or break someone’s night. “Well, well.” He drawled, arms crossed over his suit covered chest they stepped up. “Look who snuck out the house.” He smirked, leaned against the stair railing.

“Boy, hush,” Effie said, rolling her eyes. “You lettin’ us in or not?” She asked.

Rodney eyed them both, his gaze lingering on Loretta, who suddenly felt like shrinking. “Didn’t think you had it in you, little Loretta.” He teased, but there was something close to approval in his tone, and admiration as his eyes drifted over her covered figure.

Loretta avoided his eyes but straightened her shoulders. “Well, I do.” She said with a small nod.

Rodney chuckled, then stepped aside, unhooking the rope. “Don’t cause no trouble.” He said. “And don’t tell your folks.

Effie grinned, pulling Loretta through the entrance. “Of, you know that won’t be happening.” She as they passed him.

The moment they stepped inside, it hit them. The scent of whiskey and perfume, the smoke curling toward the ceiling, the sound of laughter and music weaving together in a melody of indulgence. The air was alive.

A jazz band played on a stage in the corner, the pianist’s fingers dancing over the keys while the trumpet wailed. The dance floor was filled with couples moving in sync, bodies swaying, spinning, sweating. Waitresses in form-fitting dresses weaved through the crowd with trays of drinks, their heels clicking against the floor. And at the bar, men sat with their hats tipped low, speaking in hushed voices or watching the scene unfold before them.

Effie let out a low whistle. “Lord have mercy.”

Loretta, a little overwhelmed, just stood there, drinking it all in. Effie then squeezed her hand with her signature large smile. “Welcome to La Nuit Rouge, sugar.” She said. And welcomes they were, because La Nuit Rouge was alive. The walls of the club seemed to pulse with energy, the air thick with the scent of perfume, whiskey, and the lingering wisp of cigarette smoke. The smooth, rolling rhythm of live jive music filled the space, but it was the voice on the stage that commanded the room.

On the other side of the club, a man with neatly waved hair crooned into the microphone, his voice dripping with raw emotion as he belted out Please, Please, Please by James Brown.

“I love you… I love you so…”

His voice dripped with emotion, his body swaying as if the weight of the words physically pulled at him. A deep crease settled between his brows, eyes squeezed shut as he reached into the depths of his soul.

“I love you… Honey, I love you so…”

He clutched the mic stand as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, his body moving in time with the music—hips rolling, shoulders jerking, sweat beading at his brow as he poured his soul into every note.

The crowd near the stage was utterly entranced. Women leaned forward with wide, hungry eyes, hands clutched over their hearts or pressed against their flushed cheeks. Men either watched in admiration or attempted to match his effortless charm, pulling their dance partners in close, moving to the deep, yearning rhythm of his voice.

Loretta had never seen anything like it. She was rooted in place, staring, unable to look away from the spectacle before her. The way he moved—commanding and uninhibited—made something curl tight in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or nerves.

“I’ll take your coats.” Rodney spoke up behind them. Effie made quick work to shuffle the thick fabric down her shoulders while Loretta reluctantly came up out of hers. She handed her black coat on her go him, while Rodney eyed her figure in the navy blue dress. “Wow, Loretta, you look nice.” He said, looking up at the girls face. Loretta glanced him a small smile, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Rodney. Means a lot.” She said softly.

“No problem, dew drop.” He smirked down at her, loving her shy nature. His eyes then drifted over to Claudette, who eyed him at his unsubtle flirting with her homegirl. “And you look aight, Effie.” He mumbled, taking her cat from her hands and walking away before the gaping girl could say anything.

“Rude!” Effie called out after him. She then turned back to Loretta, whose eyes drifted back to the stage behind the gyrating crowd. “Come on,” Effie murmured, pulling the girl toward the bar. And Loretta let herself be led as her gaze lingered on the man on stage, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.

Effie approached the bar with her usual confidence, slipping into a seat like she belonged there. The counter was polished to a gleam, reflecting the dim glow of the overhead lights. Behind it, a tall, light-skinned man stood wiping out a glass, his ginger hair catching the warm light. His face was sharp, freckled, and partially obscured by the glasses perched on his nose.

“Two whiskey sours, please,” Effie said smoothly, resting her arms on the counter as she gazed up at him. The man—Pierre, judging by the neatly printed name tag on his vest—pushed his glasses up with one finger and looked at her with a blank expression.

“ID, please,” He said.

Effie scoffed softly, almost like a humorless chuckle. “Really? You need my ID? I got in, didn’t I?” She asked, attempting to play it cool, but something about the way he looked at her made it clear—he saw right through her.

He blinked, unimpressed. “ID?” He repeated, his voice as flat as his expression. Effie rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. “I don’t have my ID.” She admitted, crossing her arms.

Aaron hummed, nodding to himself as he wiped down another glass. “How old are you?” He asked, his tone still unreadable, like he was conducting an interrogation rather than a casual conversation, his eye not even on her.

Effie sighed. “I’m twenty, okay? Only a year off.” She stated defensively.

Aaron gave another slow, noncommittal hum before stiffly nodding. “So no drink.” He said, not even glancing her way before he turned to place the tray of glasses on the shelf behind him.

Effie let out a short laugh, tilting her head as she gave him a once-over. She hadn’t really looked at him before, but now that she did, she took in the details—the lean but solid frame beneath his heavy coat, the sharp angles of his jaw, the serious way he carried himself. It struck her as odd that he was wearing such a thick coat indoors, especially if he was tending bar, but maybe he had just come in.

Her eyes flicked back up to his face when he turned around, catching the faint glint of his glasses in the low light. “You’re not gonna kick me out?” She asked, though a bit hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

He finally met her gaze, setting a glass down and resting his hands on the counter. “Like you said,”He murmured. “Only a year off.”

Effie smirked at that. Oh, I like you,” she grinned, poring at him. He simply blinked at her, then simply went back to cleaning the glass cups before him.

Loretta, meanwhile, was still entirely fixated on the performance happening just across the room as she took her place at the bar my Claudette. The singer had dropped to his knees now, his voice cracking with desperation, his hands gripping the hem of his shirt as if he might tear it right off his body. “Who is that?” She asked out loud. The man at the bar next to her glanced over, his eyes running over her figure as he sipped at his brown liquor. “That’s King.” He said, and Loretta’s eyes snapped over to him at his close voice over the loud music. “Huh?” She asked, it knowing that she asked the question aloud.

“That’s King Harrison. Best thing to come out of New Orleans song gumbo!” He grinned before downing the rest of the straight liquor and then slamming the glass on the counter. Pierre’s head snapped over to him, his face stoic as he eyed the man. “I done told you bout slamming the glasses, Henry. One more time and you’re out of here.” His deep baritone stated, causing the older man to grumble. Loretta jumped at the sound, blinking at the man that she could now see was obviously tipsy. Her eyes then made their way back to the man on stage. “He’s…something.” She mumbled.

King, as they call him, let out a ragged breath, opening his eyes and dragging a hand through his dampened waves. His white dress shirt clung to his body, a thin sheen of sweat making it shimmer under the dim, golden lights. He stepped forward, gripping the mic stand with both hands, his knuckles turning white as his voice cracked with desperation.

“I’m begging you, please… Please don’t go…”

He dropped to one knee, the intensity in his voice making the women in the crowd clutch their chests. Some of them reached toward him as if they could hold him together with their hands alone.

“Please, please, don’t go!”

His head tilted back, neck taut as he let the words bleed out of him. The deep tremble in his voice, the rasp at the edges—it all sent shivers through the room.

Loretta had never seen anything like it.

She was rooted in place, staring, unable to look away from the spectacle before her. The way he moved—commanding and uninhibited—made something curl tight in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or nerves.

Kelvin was moving again, dragging himself up from his knees, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His fingers curled around the microphone as he stared out at the audience, his gaze heated, lips still parted as the last note trembled in the air.

“I need you… I need you so…”

His voice was softer now, full of longing, drawing the crowd even closer. The crowd was eating it up.

Loretta swallowed hard.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Effie nudged her. “Girl, you’re starin’.” She mumbled into Loretta’s ear. Loretta blinked rapidly, finally tearing her eyes away to look at her friend. “I—” She started, but her words died on her tongue when she realized something.

The man on stage was looking right at her.

Her breath hitched as she made eye contact with him. Even with the haze of cigarette smoke and the shifting, swaying bodies between them, she could feel his gaze settle on her like a warm, slow drag of honey. She gulped before the drunk man next to her began speaking again.

“King’s got the city in a chokehold. Women want him. Men wanna be him.” He stated. Loretta glanced at the man—he was older, maybe mid-thirties, dressed sharp but relaxed, the kind of man who had seen a few things and come out wiser for it. He tipped his glass toward the stage. “He came outta nowhere, you know. Used to just be some country bumpkin kid runnin’ deliveries for the elderly. Then one day, Cisco gave him the opportunity to step on stage, and bam—King was born.” He explained.

Loretta’s brows lifted in surprise. “Just like that?”

The man nodded, smirking. “Just like that.”

Effie leaned in, having caught the conversation. “So, what’s the deal with him?” She asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. “He got a girl?” She asked with a quirked brow.

Henry snorted, swirling his drink. “If he does, she’s got the patience of a saint, ‘cause that man don’t belong to nobody but the music…and any woman he wants.”

Sounds like trouble.” Effie grinned before nudging Loretta. “Some trouble you should get into.” She smirked at her friend. Loretta rolled her eyes but felt warmth creep up her neck. “Oh, hush.” She hissed at her before looking back at the stage. But just as she did, his eyes landed on her.

His grip on the microphone loosened as he leaned in, tilting his head just slightly, as if he were considering her. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it. Maybe it was the thrill of being somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, the way the music wrapped around her, the heady energy of La Nuit Rouge—but it felt like something inside of her had been plucked like a guitar string, left vibrating.

He licked his plump lips, drawing the mic close once more. His voice was velvet and fire, dipping into the final pleading notes of the song.

“I want you so, I just want to be your man…”

It was only a second—maybe less—but Loretta felt it like a slow drag of a matchstick against its box. A spark. A flicker of heat that curled in her stomach, making her fingers twitch against the bar. King’s lips parted slightly, as if he, too, felt the moment hit. Then, just as quickly, he was back in the music, closing his eyes as he let the final note of the song spill from his lips, rich and aching. The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, some of the women practically melting against their partners as they swayed to the last few notes. He flashed them a slow, knowing grin, letting the mic dangle from his fingertips before handing it off to the house band.

And just like that, the spell was broken. Loretta blinked, remembering how tot think all of a sudden.

Effie, who was watching her, eyebrows raised with amusement. “Oh, honey,” She teased. “You are in trouble. That man just sang to you.” She grinned, nudging Loretta.

“He most certainly did not,” Loretta instantly shot back, though her voice betrayed her nerves. “Don’t say such a thing, Effie.” She said, giving her best friend a small shove.

Effie smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “He did, Ruby Mae! And he looked at you while he did it. And look at you, you’re all flushed.” The woman gushed, bringing her hand up to Loretta’s face. Loretta swatted her hand away before she pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling the warmth there. She shook her head. “I’m always flushed. And it was just a performance.”

Effie snorted. “Mm-hmm. We’ll see about that.”

Before Loretta could argue, a sudden shift in the room caught their attention. King had stepped off the stage, his presence causing a ripple through the crowd as he made his way toward the bar. People patted him on the back, some women grabbed at his hands and anything else they could get their hands on, but he maneuvered through them with ease, flashing grins and winks as he went.

Loretta stiffened and Effie, of course, was delighted.

The moment he got close enough, Effie turned to the bar and rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Two drinks after all, bartender.” She said smugly as she smirked up at the good looking ginger man. “Our friend here owes my girl a word or two.” She said before nodding over to the man that walked up to them.

Pierre simply raised an eyebrow at her, unmoved. “I’m not a bartender.” He stated flatly as his eyes drifted to King as he walked up. Effie’s face fell as she looked at the man, dropping her shoulders. “Then why are you being the bar?” She questioned. “Cleaning cups?” She continued, but before the small situation could be solved, King was next to Loretta.

He came to a stop beside them, close enough that Loretta could smell the faint trace of his cologne beneath the sweat from his performance that he was wiping away with a rag. His presence was magnetic, and even though she told herself she wouldn’t look at him, she couldn’t help it. His smile was easy, teasing, but there was something behind it—an interest, a curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, gaze flickering over her face as if committing it to memory.

“Hi.” He smirked.

“Hi.” Loretta said softly.

“The names King.” He said smoothly as he reached for her hand and gently took it into his own. “But you, my doe eyed beauty, can call me Kelvin.” He said before bringing her hand to his lips and placing a soft against her skin. Loretta gulped at the feeling of his plump lips against her, but tried her best not to freak out. She gulped again when his eyes raised, looking up at her through his lashes. “Well, Kelvin, my names Loretta.” She said softly. “Loretta Mae Greer, but my friend here calls me Ruby Mae.” She nervously explained, softly pulling her hand way from his grip and getting over to Effie.

Claudette flashed the man a small smile, ignoring her best friend’s usual nervous nature. Kelvin let out a small laugh at Loretta before he gave a polite smile to woman behind her.

“Well, did you enjoy the show, Loretta Mae Greer?” he asked, his voice smooth as whiskey as he leaned against the counter in available space next to her, and his movements made the woman realize that the drunk man, Henry, was now gone.

She blocked at that before her eyes connect with the awaiting ones of Kelvin. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse. She should say something—anything—but her tongue felt stuck.

Effie nudged her, and that was all the push she needed.

She licked her lips before she straightened her spine, meeting his eyes head-on. “I suppose it was alright.” She said with a subtle nod, hoping she sounded more composed than she felt. Kelvin let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Just alright?”

“I’ve never seen anyone move around so much while singing.” She admitted, lifting her chin slightly. “Must take..a lot of energy.” She stated, inwardly cringing at how awkward she sounded. But he grinned, flashing white teeth. “You saying I worked too hard up there?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

Loretta shrugged, her eyes taking a break from his stare as they moved around the club that was still live as ever. “I’m saying I’ve seen less dramatic performances at the church revival.” She stated.

Effie let out a choked laugh, stopping up on the water Pierre had given her, but Kelvin only looked more amused. “Oh, is that right?”

Loretta nodded, feigning innocence. “Mm-hmm.”

Kelvin tapped his fingers against the counter, considering her as his eyes drifted over her figure and his tongue poked at his cheek. Then, to her absolute shock, he reached out, taking her hand in his. “Well, if I worked too hard up there.”He murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down her spine, “Maybe you oughta give me a reason to take it slow.”

Loretta’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes widen slightly while Effie’s grin could not have been wider.

Pierre, completely unfazed, simply placed a glass of water in front of her. “Hydrate.” He said flatly and Kelvin threw his head back and laughed. “Come on, Aaron. Again?” He asked, but Aaron just gave him a look. “Quit preying in the customers. We have a business to run.” He said.

“I’m not preying.” Kelvin stated before his eye made their way back to Loretta, who was eyeing the talking men. “I’m promising this lovely lady a wonderful night.” He smirked. And that was all it took for Loretta’s face to quickly morph into one of disgust. She scoffed as she turns her lip up at him and snatched her hand from his grasp. “I am not some floozy, lady of the night, that you can just walk up to and seduce, Mister.” She hissed, before looking the man up and down. “Next time, have some self respect for you and me.” She spat before clutching her purse and shocks past him.

Kelvin blinked, momentarily stunned, as Loretta stormed past him. His smirk faltered, but only for a second before it curved into something even more intrigued. He let out a low whistle, watching her retreating form as she wove through the crowd, her posture rigid with irritation. “Damn,” He muttered under his breath, running a hand over his jaw.

Effie, meanwhile, was completely shocked, mouth agape as she looked at the man. “Oh my! I am so sorry about that.” She apologized as she stood up from her seat and stepping over to the man. “I have never seen her act that way before. She’s a real shy girl.” She reassured.

Pierre—the now calm, steady Aaron—simply grabbed another glass from behind the counter, shaking his head. “That’s what you get.” He said dryly. “I told you to quit preying on the customers.”

Kelvin let out an incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair before placing both hands on his hips. “Preying? Come on now, Aaron, you act like I’m out here breakin’ hearts for sport.”

Aaron stopped what he was doing and gave him a flat look.

That caused Kelvin to sigh dramatically, throwing up his hands. “Alright, fine. But you gotta admit—she’s something else.” His gaze flickered toward the crowd Loretta had disappeared through. “I don’t think I’ve ever been turned down quite like that before.” He muttered. “Or ever this turned on.” He mucked to himself. His grin then widened, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Now,” He said, drumming his fingers against the bar, “that only makes me wanna try harder.”

Aaron exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Try harder to leave her alone.” He stated. But Kelvin ignored him, eyes still fixed on the crowd, looking for the rebound bow in the sea of black bodies dancing to the music. “She’s got fire.”He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Then he glanced at Effie. “What do I gotta do to get back in her good graces?”

Effie, still gaping at her friend’s outburst, blinked before snapping back into reality. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe start by not treating her like every other woman who throws themselves at you?” She suggested sarcastically:

Kelvin scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I do have manners, you know.”

“Not the ones she’s looking for,” Aaron and Effie stated at the same time, causing the pair to eye one another.

Kelvin shot them a look before turning back to Effie. “Come on, help a brotha out here.”

Effie crossed her arms, tapping her foot as if in deep thought. “Hmm… well, Loretta does love a man who can admit when he’s wrong.” She said.

Kelvin raised a brow. “I wasn’t wrong.” He blinked.

Effie face slowly morphed into the same look Loretta gave him, which caused Kelvin sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I was wrong, I can admit that. I don’t approach her like a gentleman should. I’ll apologize.” He stated, though none of the three knew if he was genuine or not. Effie just shook her head. “Lord, you’re gonna have to work real hard for this one.” She said before grabbing her cloth and finally walking off to find her friend.

Kelvin simply grinned, already planning his next move. “Good. I like a challenge.”

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[marauder-misprint]

Bed

Sirius Black x gn!reader

microfic - 574 words

cw: fluff, established relationship, implied/stated sexual activity (not described)

You always found a certain level of intimacy upon seeing someone’s room for the first time. It was a window into their personal life, their individual being. You tried not to take the vulnerability of sharing their safe space for granted, whether it be your childhood friends or cousins, or now, your boyfriend Sirius. 

You had been in his dorm at Hogwarts many times. And as special as that was in its own right, it was still a shared space with James, Remus and Peter. It was a mix of all of them. Sirius’ room at the Potters was his own. You didn’t know how it compared to his room at his parents, but it didn’t matter. This room was so Sirius. 

You sigh as you take in the room, leaning against the doorframe. The unmade bed with more than enough pillows. The posters of motorcycles and musicians that adorned the walls, along with several Gryffindor banners and a singular Quidditch banner for the team he supported (a gift from James, no doubt). A desk that was an organized mess, similar to his at school, but this one wasn’t covered in unfinished homework. His closet door was open, revealing leather jackets and various shirts, and some boxes on the ground that appeared to hold various trinkets. The window was cracked open with a small crystal ashtray and crimson red lighter on the sill. Even with the window letting in fresh air, the room smelled of Sirius. 

“You can come in, you know,” Sirius says, picking up some trash off the floor and tossing it into the bin. “Effie doesn’t mind.”

You smile and take a step in. James’ mum wasn’t why you were standing outside. Despite having been intimate with Sirius more times than you could count, you wanted to give him the space of his own room, only entering when invited like a vampire.

He lays down on his bed and holds open his arms for you.

“Come here, baby.”

“Sirius Orion Black, are you asking me to come to bed with you?” you ask with a cheeky grin.

“Darling, you know I am,” he replies with a wink and you collapse onto his bed.

He pulls you closer to his chest, nuzzling his dead into the crook of his neck. It forces you to giggle. Featherlight kisses dust your desk and up to your cheek. You wriggle in his grasp in an attempt to turn around so you can see him, but his hold on your waist is ironclad. You are stuck as he presses his body into yours. 

“Sirius!” you whine, still trying to turn.

“Baby,” he whines back.

“Let. Me. Go,” you say, aggressively twisting your hips at each word.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbles after returning his face to your neck. “I have you in my own bed and I don’t plan on letting go.”

You sigh. “But imagine what we could get up to if you did let go!”

You hear a disgusted noise from outside the room. James peeks his head in with his hands over his eyes.

“If you’re going to be… doing things, at least have the decency to close the door!” he says accusingly. 

Sirius barks out a laugh and rolls over with you still in his arms.

“‘M not doing anything yet…” he grumbles. “Would’ve closed the door before too much came off.”

“Sirius!” you chastise despite having implied such activities only moments before. 

[alexihollis]

Aftermath

*Sunrise on the Reaping Spoilers*

“Oh, Haymitch,” Effie winced as she took in the sight before her. 

She should have guessed this year would be a bad year. The 60th Hunger Games. Ten years since Haymitch won his games. District Twelve citizens tended to steer clear of her, but there were a few who would hang around the train station the day before Reaping Day. The day that Effie arrived, alone since the 51st Hunger Games where Haymitch reacted…less than perfectly when Effie showed up with his new prep team and Haymitch made it very clear how he felt about the change. 

So the day before Reaping Day, Effie Trinket arrived in District Twelve and took on the task of making the District Twelve victor presentable. It was a much more difficult task with the twenty-six year old man who pickled his brain than the sweet, terrified sixteen-year-old boy who helped clean up her makeup, but it was her job all the same and Effie did it. Maybe not without a bit of complaining, but getting Haymitch to argue with her was better than dragging around the catatonic zombie that Effie found herself constantly fighting against.

Anger was better than apathy when it came to Haymitch. Effie learned that early on as well. It was not her fault if others did not understand this, particularly any stylists who saw fit to try and complain about Haymitch’s behavior. 

This year, though, Effie opened the door and knew that it would be a difficult battle. Light from the open door and small streams that fought their way between the curtain blinds played on glass bottles throughout the house. The air smelled stale and heavy with dust and Effie followed the sound of snoring into the living room. Haymitch did not used to snore. Effie blamed the latest development on the alcohol. 

Alcohol. Effie still had that vest. The one embroidered with cocktail glasses that Haymitch wore for his first interview with Caesar Flickerman. It hung in the back of her closet, safe when the other outfits smoldered in her family’s fireplace after a night of too much champagne and a horrible, twisting feeling in her gut, three weeks after the 51st Games. When everyone was still celebrating and all Effie could think about was the little boy who begged her to let him go home and suddenly, all she could think about was a girl who spoke her mind and a boy so much smarter than any of Effie’s classmates and a strange little girl with a fondness for snakes. 

When she grabbed that vest, the last item- she just held it. She didn’t throw it, the way she threw the others, she held it in her lap and her fingers played over the embroidery. It had been funny, back then. Cute. Putting the rascal bootlegger into an alcohol themed item, making him stand out. Now, it just felt like she cursed him. And then it ended up hanging safely in the back of her closet. A reminder.

“Haymitch!” Effie tried. It was always better when she did not startle him. He was draped over his couch, one arm flopped over his eyes. If not for the snoring, Effie would not have been able to say if Haymitch was alive or not. She tried again. “Haymitch Abernathy!”

That startled him. He rolled himself off the couch, fumbling for something. A knife, most likely. It was usually a knife that Effie found herself staring down. 

Hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked, she looked him over as he gathered his bearings – which, fortunately, did not include a sharp pointy object this time. He needed a shave and a haircut, as always, but a bath certainly needed to precede those two. Hopefully, he was aware enough to handle that task himself. There had been occasions where he had not been and Haymitch never appreciated that later. His clothes were a whole other matter, as usual, but Effie sincerely considered burning the ones he currently wore. They looked disturbingly close to the undershirt and pants that he wore when Effie dropped him off two months prior, after he had been requested in the Capitol for some parties. Haymitch was certainly not the most popular victor, not by a long shot, but winning a Quarter Quell meant that he would never find himself spending the whole year in District Twelve, Effie was certain. 

Especially since he seemed to be someone’s pet project of misery, but Effie was not supposed to know anything about that if the strange conversations she had with Plutarch Heavensbee said anything.

“You need a bath,” Effie said as Haymitch blinked up blearily at her.

Haymitch scowled. “You.”

“Me.” Effie sighed, moving forward to get him on his feet. It took a second for Haymitch to help. She forced a smile, a cheery tone. “Come along. Tomorrow is a-”

“Big, big day!” Haymitch mocked with a too-wide smile and dead eyes.

“Exactly,” Effie beamed as they made their way to the stairs. 

“Happy birthday to me,” Haymitch muttered under his breath as they started up the staircase.

Effie ignored the words. She made the mistake, once, of giving Haymitch a birthday gift for his twenty-first birthday. A small flask. She hadn’t loved the idea of giving Haymitch something associated with liquor, but she figured a flask would help keep him more stable in the Games room, since alcohol technically wasn’t allowed. He could claim to have any number of drinks in the flask and no one would bat an eye, Effie had thought. 

The flask had been unceremoniously thrown at her head in the train, in front of that years children. It clipped her temple. She needed stitches. Peacekeepers had tased him and it had taken all of Effie’s skills to convince the Gamemakers that Haymitch was not a security risk.

Along with half of her salary that year, but that was neither here nor there.

That years children had been terrified of him. It hadn’t helped since that was the first year where the children were kids who grew up knowing Haymitch as District Twelve’s Victor. The previous years had been kids who recognized Haymitch from school, which had started the twisting, sour feeling in Effie’s stomach. Then, kids who knew Haymitch as their older siblings’ classmate. It had taken far less time than Effie thought to get to the children who, logically, knew Haymitch was once like them, but mostly recognized him from sitting on a stage at Reaping Day. And that first year, already wary, they stayed as far away from him as physically possible and…

It was a bad year. Effie took the blame for that one.

Effie sat Haymitch down on the toilet lid and fiddled with the shower. The hot water took time, not like her shower back home, but it gave her time to assess Haymitch’s condition. He was well enough to bathe himself, Effie determined. Clearer in the eyes than she expected, actually. 

“I hate you,” Haymitch said. The words did not sting and he said them less like an insult and more like the sky was blue.

“Well, you do not make it very easy to like you, either,” Effie said, bright and cheery as ever. “I will leave you to this. Here.” She handed him the small bag she had carried with her, where sweatpants and a soft t-shirt lay inside. 

Haymitch scowled, as expected, but took the bag.

“I’ll set up in your room. It wouldn’t kill you to get a haircut more often. Or shave,” Effie said.

“Fuck off.”

“With soap, Haymitch,” Effie said as she left the bathroom.

“Fuck off!” A solid thump against the bathroom door made Effie jump just slightly as she closed it. 

Good. They were getting somewhere, then. 

Effie busied herself, setting up in one of the spare bedrooms where she stored some of her supplies during the year. A straight razor. Shaving cream. A pair of haircutting scissors. Haymitch never went into the room, whether out of respect for Effie (unlikely) or simply forgetting the rooms existence (likely). She wiped down the large mirror that hung over the dresser that she used as a makeshift vanity, pulling the stool out of the closet. It used to live in the kitchen, but Effie brought it up years ago when Haymitch first needed a haircut and shave and made it abundantly clear that no one he did not know would be allowed near his neck with something sharp. 

“It’s because I was there before,” Effie told Plutarch one day, also years ago now. When it became clear that, no matter how good of a job Effie did, no matter how badly other districts or stylists or even jobs may want her, she was going nowhere. District Twelve’s Escort referred to her the same way as Effie Trinket. 

“So was I,” Plutarch said, almost pouting. It was back in his first year as an official Gamemaker and, while Effie did not know why Plutarch continued trying with Haymitch, Effie knew his attempts were being strongly rebuked at every singular turn. 

Effie took a sip of the sparkling wine Plutarch gave her, before saying, “You are a brilliant man. I am sure you are well-aware of whatever difference might exist between who I was to Haymitch before his games and who you were.”

And while Plutarch decidedly did not answer Effie’s question, his slightly sour face said enough. Even by then, these conversations were not new to Effie. 

Beetee. Mags. Even Wiress, though Effie left that conversation even more baffled than conversations with Plutarch. Haymitch entertained them, at the very least, but never for long and Effie found herself left talking more to Victors than she ever expected to in her life.

After all, the Hunger Games were always Prosepina’s goal. Not hers. No. Effie had been content to find herself a nice fashion house, settle herself into basic styling or modeling. But then she answered that phone call and found herself in an orange apartment with an arm full of old clothes and staring at children. Barely younger than Prosepina herself.

And then there was a Victor. And the trials that came with being a Victor, especially one who came home to only tragedy. House fire. Appendicitis. Shallow, Effie always said to herself, take what you are given and accept it. It’s easier to accept it. It’s better to accept it (it used to be easy). In the end, however it came to be, did it matter? The sixteen-year-old grew and twisted and became a man who needed translating and, apparently, the only translator people found came in an Effie-shaped package. 

Which Effie did not understand at all. Haymitch was not that difficult to understand. Perhaps difficult to manage, since he tended to have a very specific response to people caring about him that usually involved throwing things, but certainly not to understand. Beetee seemed baffled, though. Fitting, because Beetee baffled Effie, particularly with his obsession with potatoes. 

Effie wiped down the mirror. Dust collected on it in the time she had been away, two months since she last entered this room. It seemed too much dust, but Effie wasn’t sure how dust collected in a house devoid of housekeepers. As she finished her tidying, she heard the water shut off and waited to the sound of rummaging. The bathroom door opened and heavy footsteps came to the room.

“Sit,” Effie gestured to the stool.

“Fuck you,” Haymitch muttered as he shuffled over.

“You really should expand your vocabulary,” Effie commented as she started smearing the shaving cream. “It is getting rather redundant.”

“No comments on my colorful language, then?” Haymitch asked.

Effie pursed her lips as she picked up the straight razor. “Plenty. But I care more when it is in front of children. It is improper.”

“More improper then sending them to their violent doom?”

Effie swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat, avoiding his eyes as she carefully shaved away the facial hair. “It is how we honor the dead.”

Because what else was there to say? How else to explain the last ten years of Effie’s life, that made everything so much harder than it needed to be? 

“Yeah. Course.” Haymitch laughed sardonically, the picture of perfect misery. 

A beautiful fool, I wish you were a beautiful fool, like your sister – those were the words her grandmother said when Effie turned eighteen, when her grandmother got lost in thought and spoke of the dark days and the days before the Hunger Games. When Effie said that the games were necessary, a necessary evil, and her grandmother looked at her with such disappointment that Effie wanted the floor to swallow her. Her teachers had praised her for such words, said that Effie was so brilliant for seeing past the pleasantries and focusing on the true meaning of the Games, and yet her grandmother…

Her grandmother died before Effie went to university and Effie tried to forget those last conversations. Then a phone call came and Effie answered with an armful of clothes and proved a little too competent for her own good.

Effie said nothing as she started on Haymitch’s hair.

Tomorrow, she would pull two names from two bowls. Tomorrow, Effie would take on two new charges to shepherd and coach through the next two weeks. Tomorrow, Effie would try to play mediator between two terrified kids and their catatonic mentor.

Tonight, Effie needed to make Haymitch presentable. Tonight, Effie made sure Haymitch drank water and ate a meal and went to bed, even if he did not sleep. 

“He isn’t that difficult,” Effie always found herself saying when they got back to the Capitol and Effie never knew if she was telling a truth or a lie. 

Effie wasn’t sure what truth was anyway. 

[theres-a-starman]

Jegumas Day 14: feast @noblehouseofgay

word count: 375

TW: Walburha’s A+ parenting, disordered eating

Christmas’s were hard for Regulus. There’s too many people, too much food, and too much sensitivity. When he was little, he’s hide in his closet during dinners, and after all the guests left, Walburge would find him in the same spot as always, rocking back and forth as she screams at him and slaps him senseless. So yes, Regulus didn’t quite enjoy the holidays. Until James came along.

James, who never pressured him to eat more than he felt comfortable with, who’d coax him out of his closet with the softest touch, who’d rub his back and hold him close and caress the old scars as if they’d go away just like that. James would encourage him to nibble on the smallest of foods, the smoothest textures, the least-flavored soup, so it wouldn’t feel like he’d be eating anything.

Regulus had decided to stay over at James’ for the holidays, scared out of his mind. What would he do? What would he wear? How would he eat? Would Effie and Monty judge him for aimlessly pushing the food around on his plate? Or would James have them make a different food just for him, judging him for that instead?

In very simple terms: he was panicking.

James had reassured him about a million times a day for a month straight, starting from the moment he proposed the invite.

Later, a way too short amount of time to be multiple days past, in Regulus’ opinion, he was in James’ house, with James’ parents, pushing around the soup they’d made specially for him instead of the humongous feast he felt guilty for not eating. They were sweet. It was terrible. Regulus didn’t know how to reply. They made small chit-chat about school, and grades, and people, and drama. Effie seemed particularly interested, seeing as James hold her literally everything and wanted more detail from a different perspective, while Monty would discuss potion-making and his parents would spew embarrassing stories about James endlessly. A small smile graces his lips as James blushes and hides his red face, making Regulus forget about everything completely and down his whole bowl in 0.25 seconds as he laughs at the stories, enjoying each and every moment with James, Effie, and Monty.

[lexithwrites]

we need more (nsfw?) prongsfoot

yes thank you ive been hoping someone brings up prongsfoot okay:

i feel like their relationship will almost always start as them experimenting for the first time at like 15/16 with the same gender, james is curious and sirius is curious and they trust each other so why not? then they just,,,cant stop kissing? like effie knocks on the door telling them dinner is ready and thats what breaks them apart and its something they dont talk about for a few years, then they're roommates in uni and they're going to parties and meeting people and sirius is a bit more sure of his sexuality, he's always been super confident, whilst james sticks with girls as he's a bit shyer around guys (plus he has a crush on sirius and only wants to kiss sirius) and then at one point they do seven minutes in heaven and they're in a closet together and sirius is like its just a game jamie no harm in a kiss and once again, they're making out, but this time they're more experianced and know what they like so james is having his neck kissed, sirius is having his hair tugged, and then they're interrupted and its just frustration at that point. i feel like they have an awkward night where they're both home and in their beds and just thinking about the other one and the super romantic thing happens where they both get up to knock on the others door and meet in the hallway and its just KISS. they 100% have sex, idk how far they go but its the most intimate theyve felt with anyone and its intense.

nsfw warning for this part:

they try and discuss mid make out what they'd prefer to do and since james has never bottomed in his life and sirius has a couple times they decide that way is the easiest, and then sirius is blowing james and hes in pure heaven its because its sirius that its the best because he loves him and also sirius is great at sucking dick, and then james tries to do it and sirius guides him so sweetly but then james gets into it and gags and drools and sirius is like 'oh i can ruin this man' and then sirius is fingering himself for james and turns out he's been doing that frequently so james is lying back on the bed, sirius on top of him, watching him open himself up and just wondering how tf they got here but then sirius is sitting on his cock and he shuts up. sirius is that kinda dick rider that grabs the headboard or someones hands and just goes for it rodeo style, james is moaning so loud too and its turning sirius on even more because wtf he's so vocal this never happens, and james is like steaming up his fucking glasses, then james is flipping them over and fucking into sirius properly and now sirius is the loud one, its just messy and fun and they're laughing but panting and tugging at each other's hair and skin and its HOT and the cum right after the other before james rolls onto his back and they both just lie there sweaty and satisfied and sirius lights up a cigarette and they share it before actually turning over and talking about wtf happened and sirius admits that he's always fancied james and james admits he fancies him too and they're kinda like well,,,maybe this could be a regular thing and then sex turns into dates then sex and then eventually they're just holding hands all the time and calling each other boyfriend AHH I LOVE THEM

[margojacksonpotter]

Parts in Mockingjay book that should have been in the movie:

-Katniss really disliked living underground at 13. She felt claustrophobic and missed being outdoors and hunting. She never followed the schedule to train and just hid in supply closets and took naps. If anyone tried to question this, she’d show them her medical bracelet and tell them she’s mental.

- Katniss and Annie traveled from 13 to 12 with Katniss’ prep team to find Annie a wedding dress in her house in Victor’s Village. Katniss’ wedding dresses were sent back to the Capitol but she still had a few dresses from the Victory tour. Annie chose a green one. Katniss says Annie laughs at wrong times in a conversation and drifts off mid sentence but Finnick likes her so she does too.

- Peeta decorated Finnick and Annie’s wedding cake. It was part of his therapy after getting hijacked. He decorated it with blue and green waves for their district.

-Johanna and Katniss’ friendship: Johanna wanted to fight in Capitol with the Katniss and Finnick. She and Katniss were deemed too “mentally unstable” to fight. They had to start at the lowest level in training and work their way up to the top. They were even roommates for a while. Katniss noticed Johanna avoided showers and was scared of training outside in the rain. She later finds out Johanna developed a fear of water after being tortured in the Capitol by being waterboarded and electrocuted.

- Katniss was mad that Peeta was sent to fight in the Capitol so she calls Haymitch. Haymitch gives her the ultimate reality check, delivering the best line in the series: “I think it's time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you'd been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?” demands Haymitch. I fall silent. It isn't. It isn't how he would be treating me at all. He would be trying to get me back at any cost”.

- In the last part of the training, Johanna and Katniss go through a combat stimulation in which the person must face their greatest weakness. Katniss’ weakness was taking orders (no surprise). In Johanna’s stimulation, she faced a flood, had a flash back and panicked. She was sent back to the hospital and wasn’t allowed to the Capitol. To make her feel better, Katniss combined pine tree needles with a bandage to make a sort of fragrance bundle. Johanna said it smelled like home. 🥹

- After the silver parachutes bombs and Prim’s death, Katniss was also affected by the fire. Her skin became discolored and patchy. Peeta was also at the Capitol Circle during the bombing and was burnt as well. He and Katniss have burn scars all over their bodies that never fully go away.

-After the bombing, Katniss is described as a mental “Avox”, refusing to speak for weeks after her sisters death.

-All the stylist and prep team of the Hunger Games were assassinated, with the exception of Effie and Katniss’ prep team. The victors of the Hunger Games were killed as well except for the ones who were imprisoned in the Capitol and saved by District 13.

- The bombs decorated as silver parachutes to m@rder Capitol children was Plutarch’s idea. A Gamemaker’s touch as President Snow described. Plutarch was just as bad as Coin. He thought it made for “good television”

-After Katniss murdered Coin, she was kept in the Training Center for weeks till they figured out what to do with her. She considered s@uicide many times, either by overdosing or refusing to eat. She wouldn’t speak and sang to herself constantly. All the songs her father taught her. After the war ended, Plutarch asked her if she wanted to be a part of a singing competition he was televising in 4.

-Katniss and Peeta wrote a book about all the people they knew and details about them: Primrose, Cinna, Finnick, Peeta’s dad. Peeta drew the pictures. Haymitch helped them too, giving them information about the tributes he was forced to mentor. They plan on reading the book to their children one day.

-What happened to District 12: Hundreds of people left 13 to go back home to 12. They began finding bodies in the rubble and burying them. Madge and her family were found dead. A large hole was made in the Meadow to bury them. Then people began rebuilding the town. With the mines closed, a factory was built from the Capitol to make medicine.

[soph-the-podcast-nerd]

i haven’t seen a lot of the sort of ships and headcannons I want for midnight burger (however that may be because I am not done with the series yet so I haven’t followed many tags or anything) so im going to put them here.

Ava is on the aromantic spectrum

Gloria is also on the aromantic spectrum. I had her on the ace spectrum, but then I thought about it and in my own personal opinion I think that was just my urge to headcannon every character I like ace as an ace myself

Ex is ace and she and Shel are partners. Whenever they encounter someone/something dangerous, Shel protects Ex which starts out as cute until Shel gets to the point where they’re as tall as a tree. They’re both the kind of partner who goes “if you mess with my partner you mess with me” and its cute

Caspar is straight, but over the century that he’s worked at the diner he would occasionally meet a guy who is very charismatic and charms everyone he talks to and he was like hey what the fuck (you know the people, no matter who you’re attracted to its always like damn I forgot that I’m not attracted to that gender for a second)

Mucklewains are straight but very much allies, if you took them to 2025 they would be appalled at how religion was still being used to oppress queer people and POC 100 years later. You know those people at pride parades holding the “you’re going to hell” signs? They better pray they never meet Effie Mucklewain

Bert Bert: closeted bisexual

When Verge is asked about their gender they say they are the type of person to go either “I identify as a problem.” Or “I identify as a diva.” Or some shit like that

Leif has been exploring space since his 20s and he has met people of all different identities, and so he thinks that trying to define something like gender and attraction is a waste of time. Besides, what even is “straight” when everyone comes from different planets and had “default” genders and sexualities? (Cough cough totally not assigning him my personal opinion)

Clementine: she’s never really had the time to consider it and never really thought it was that important

June is a “im not gay but $20 is $20” kinda girl

edit: I’m adding Frank as straight guy who gets hit on by all the gay dudes who pass through the hotel and hes just like what the fuck! What about me screams gay! And also I’m tagging ace because I want to

edit: David 🤝 Fiona ➡️ WLW - MLM solidarity

both are the type to say “I’m too gay for this”

[bloodgutsangelcakes]

birthday wishlist:

lana del rey vinyls

effy stonem's closet

xanax

large sum of money (in cash)

heart shaped sunglasses

sad girl poetry

a gun

[vinylfoxbooks]

August 12 - Denial | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 581

In the grand scheme of things, James’ summer break has been pretty good so far. It was a bit of a rocky start with Sirius and Regulus showing up at their doorstep battered and bloody and hanging half onto consciousness. But after the two of them were healed up and got used to living in the Potter mansion, they started living a bit easier. Sirius and James have had a wonderful time fucking around and Regulus has been slowly opening up more and more with all of them, gradually getting more comfortable with sharing a space with Monty and Effie.

And James and Regulus have been hanging out more often, which James is more than happy about; they’ve had the biggest crush on Regulus since third year, sue them for wanting to spend more time around him -- and being thrilled that the younger is finally opening up to him. 

So far, James’ summer is going pretty good. Until one day, Sirius asks James to grab something from his closet for him and James does so, not thinking anything of it. Then, as they’re looking for what Sirius asked for, Regulus gets thrown into the closet and the door is slammed behind the younger boy, the click of a lock following shortly after. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Sirius?” Regulus shouts through the door. 

“I’m fucking sick of you two being in denial,” Sirius shouts back, “You’re not leaving until you figure your shit out and get together. Just don’t have sex in my closet!” “But that’s the best place to have sex.” James calls back, laughing at the scandalised scoff that Sirius lets out before they finally come to terms with the situation. They level their gaze onto Regulus, meeting his steely eyes, “Wait, what did he mean get together?”

And those beautiful steel eyes roll, “Fucking obviously, James.”

“Wait, you like me?”

“It might just be a bit more than ‘liking’ you,” Regulus sneers, “I’ve been wanting to date you for years.”

James takes a second to respond, trying to reboot their brain, “Actually? Like you’re not just messing with me?”

“No, James, I’m not messing with you.” He sneers, though his demeanor slowly getting less and less defensive, “And I’m assuming, from what Sirius said, that you fancy me back?”

The older clears their throat, scanning over Regulus’ face, “Yeah… yeah, I do. I have for a while now.”

“Look at that, I like you, you like me. Now you agree to go on a date with me and we make out in Sirius’ closet to spite his entire being.” Regulus hums and James nods dumbly, willing to go along with whatever plan Regulus makes if he says them like that. Regulus grins at them before pulling them to him by their shirt in order to kiss them, which James is more than happy to push back with just as much fervor as Regulus. 

“Gross!” Sirius shouts when he throws the closet door open several minutes later, figuring that their silence is either incredibly good or incredibly bad, only to see James pinning Regulus against a wall.

When they pull away, Regulus meets Sirius’ gaze, lips spit slick and cheeks bright red, “It’s your fault.” And with that, he stalks out of the closet, beckoning James. And they follow him.

Sirius laughs at them, “Walk them like a dog, Reg.” 

“I was planning on it.” And with that, he’s out of the room with James on his tail.