#Backstory?

[arthdoesart]

WIP Wednesday

Wrote this before the Sunrise book announcement, so this will most definitely undergo "changes" to stay a little bit compliant 👌 (tho be warned, since it's not grammatically polished)

“When do you think Andromeda will be back?” 

The little one, Nettles, pipes up in a small voice. Haymitch peels away his view from the balcony and migrates to her round face and soft, doe eyes. His gaze particularly adheres to the details of her tiny feet, which are childishly swinging on the front skirt of the couch. They don’t even touch the carpet. He shudders at the thought of her not making it past the Cornucopia.  

“Beats me,” Kaiser shrugs all the way from the dining table, already piling the omelet on top of his amalgam concoction of food. “She doesn’t really care about us. So why should we in return?” 

“We don’t have anyone else besides Andromeda,” Maysilee joins in the conversation, plopping next to Nettles on the couch. “As the only District with no Mentor, we can’t exactly be picky with what we have.” 

“Course we can,” Kaiser snorts, fetching a wine glass with a vee-shaped bowl that ladles sparkling amethyst water. He sniffs it before taking a careful sip. “Our Escort sucks anyway. Hey, Mitchie! Wanna try this with me?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Haymitch guns him a bone-chilling glare. “I don’t want to drink.”

“Suit yourself.” 

All of them immediately perk up at the shuffling sound of footsteps coming their way. Their Escort, Andromeda, waddles first within their line of sight, her octopus hairdo highly unmistakable and too ridiculous to miss.

“Well, here they are. They’re not much to work with.” 

A new voice startles them. 

“We’ll be the judge of that.” 

Haymitch pauses in his stride, gaping at the two new arrivals that’s tailing their Escort. Maysilee does the same, whereas Nettles and Kaiser sprint excitedly towards the newcomers.

“What’s going on?” 

Andromeda settles her focus on them, and they’re met with a mad glint of artificial eyes that burns a dent through their skull. “Since it’s the Quarter Quell, the higher ups have permitted District 12 to loan Mentors from the other Districts for this year’s Hunger Games! Luckily for the four of you, we have two eager volunteers.” 

“Sorry, volunteers?” Haymitch slits his eyes in suspicion. “You’re saying that our Mentors are from another District?” 

“Well, yes. That’s exactly what I said,” Andromeda says. There’s something in her tone that makes him feel stupid. “You should be grateful that someone is stepping in to ensure your survival, young man.”

“How do we know they won’t sabotage our chances so their Districts can win?” Haymitch asserts boldly, standing his ground. Maysilee mimics his skepticism. This ripples an effect on the other two where Kaiser stiffens in alarm, and little Nettles is reduced to a bundle of nerves.

“Because that will be considered cheating, a risky tactic that would condemn not just the person who committed the act, but their entire District as punishment.” 

The culprit is clad in a stylistic gray jumpsuit with long puffed sleeves at the top and a dark denim tie that’s formed loosely in a bow. The red in her hair has been washed off its merrier color, like it's beginning to tread near unpigmented gray, stripped back in a high ponytail. 

“And which District are ‘ya from?” Haymitch asks, shoving his fists inside his pockets. 

The girl refuses to acknowledge his question. She sways her head to where Andromeda is standing uselessly between them. 

“I apologize for this one's behavior,” His Escort says, waving him off as if he was some disgruntled child that's throwing a tantrum. “I would have started with the introductions sooner if Haymitch wasn't so rude to interrupt me.”

“Haymitch wasn't being rude,” Maysilee comes to his defense. “What he's asking is valid. Why now, do we have Mentors? And how do we know we can trust them in keeping us alive?”

“If you impertinent children are this ungrateful to the people who are willing to help you, then you don't deserve Mentors to begin with!” Andromeda snaps. 

“Oh, leave them be. They have the right to be suspicious,” The other one, the one with warm hazel eyes, says. “I honestly don’t see anything wrong with them questioning such a change. They have some backbone, which is good in my book. ”

She gives them a welcoming smile, a stark contrast to the blunt poker expression that her companion is frostily emitting. She trudges past their stunned Escort and introduces herself to them.

“I'm Mags Flanagan, and I've been a Mentor for exactly thirty-eight years now.”

Tagging the few who would like to indulge 🫣 

@lorrainestea @littlemarianah @thelettersfromnoone @persephoneprice @thegoddessprose

[geareduptom]

Wouldn't you like a taste of the POWER?

I wonder who she is?

[millionsnife]

He bleeds red.

Objectively Knives has always known; he's bled before. It's only now that the knowledge scratches at his mind, burrowing between synapses to mock him.

He bleeds human red. (Vash had bled human red, puddling on the floor beneath his body seeping the life out of him even as he pointed the gun at Knives and told him no–)

His eyes trace its path from arm to needle to tubing and into vials that are swapped and packed carefully away. He doesn't bother following its path from there, into the back rooms of the doctor's laboratory. Knives doesn't know where it goes from there, and honestly doesn't care–doesn't want to know. Barely tolerates this small invasion as it is, and further knowledge would do nothing to soothe his temper.

"Idiot," Zazie hisses against his ear softly, the soft susurration of worm scales scraping over each other as they twisted around themselves in agitation a sufficient distraction. "You come to us for protection only to place yourself in the jaws of a scavenger anyway. Fool child."

Knives does not flinch at the accusation. It's an accurate summation regardless, and he dips his chin briefly in acknowledgement of the truth.

"He requires bone this time," Knives says finally, staring up at the blank ceiling; there's a question buried in the words even though he does not ask outright. Zazie sighs quietly, the sound aged.

"Foolish child," they repeat. "He will never be satisfied with what you give, child. He is a scavenger. The doctor will eat and eat and eat until he has bloated himself upon your corpse and there is nothing left to feast upon. Do not trust scavengers, Knives."

But Zazie does not leave.

[foxtricksterwriting]

A Story from Hemlock's Childhood

Author's Note: Out of my MC's, Hemlock's the one with some supernatural experiences prior to the IF. They've been through some shit already 🤭 I got too excited to wait until tomorrow to post this lol

Tags: @girlfromthecrypt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hemlock, where are you goin’?” A tall, dark tawny skinned woman called as the front door creaked open. “To play in the woods, Mum said I could,” They responded, both hands still clasped on the doorknob. The iron pentacle hung from the doorknob clanged loudly as it hit the door. “Hemlock,” she sounded disappointed already, “Do you know what time it is?” As she spoke she set the herb bundle down and stormed over to the entryway.

“Uh-huh, 2 in the afternoon,” Hemlock nodded while holding up two fingers. The woman sighed, “Dear, it’s a figure of speech.” Her tone was gently correcting. 

She sat on her knees in front of them, “You spend so much time out each time, you won’t be back before dark if you go out now.”

“Yeah, I’m tough though, Ma! I ain’t gon’a let ‘em get me!” Hemlock punched the air, spinning with the motion. “Sugarplum, I’ve already told you, the things out in the woods aren’t things you can beat up,” she shook her head. “Good thing I ain’t gon’a be gone for that long!” They tried to reassure their Ma with a giant smile. She sighed again and ruffled their curly hair. “You better be back ‘fore dark, or you’re grounded for 3 months,” she gave them a stern look. Hemlock hummed, “I’ll be back soon!”

They waited for their Ma to stand up before grabbing the doorknob and jumping outside. The door slammed shut behind them. They jumped down the steps, skipping around the house and into the woods.

Hemlock did not get home before dark. The sun’s going down quickly behind them, projecting long shadows that drag them forward. They’d already ditched their shoes somewhere along the well-trodden path, like normal. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear animals rustling through the brush. A bird called loud and clear as it flew overhead. The dirt was still squishy from the rain yesterday and had a pleasant, earthy scent. Ma’s not gonna be happy ‘bout the mud when I get home, they thought.

It was dark before they even realized it, but the full moon still barely illuminated their path. A light breeze rustled the foliage. But Hemlock noticed the lack of insect chirps or any nocturnal animal activity. That’s weird. They scanned the environment, not noticing anything alarming. “Look at the trees, not in them,” They murmured to themself, a reminder from their Ma. It was a warning that she’s been drilling into their mind since they could sit upright on their own. They remember asking her why one time, “Dear, we live in Appalachia. All sorts of creatures live in our woods, half of them aren’t things we can fend off with bear spray or mace. Learn what to do to avoid them, don’t ever, ever, get their attention. Once you know, don’t you dare forget it. It’ll save your life one day.” That was when they were 5, maybe? It’s been 4 years and they’ve never forgotten it. Even when they’d forget everything their Ma would try to teach them for protection would go in one ear and out the other, they remembered that first warning.

A whispering in the wind snapped the child out of their thoughts. It was a mess of incomprehensible nonsense, they couldn’t make out a clear word. Their muddy feet felt suddenly cold and a subtle dread crawled up their legs. Hemlock shook their head as the whispering snaked through their ears and caressed their brain. Then, they caught some actual words … and an eerily familiar voice, “Hemlock?”

Their blood froze in their veins. That’s... “Hemlock! What’s wrong?” The child gulped as their own voice called out to them. Hemlock kept walking, repeatedly reminding themself to not react, and not to run. Running sets off a predator instinct. You can’t run. The voice called out from the brush behind them, somewhere, each time it’s more insistent than the last. Some were even angry, demanding. Over what felt like hours, the voice is relentless. And changing, slowly getting a little deeper and louder. It warped, gaining a slight warble when it got angry. “Come here,” It demanded, something in the bushes crashed around violently.

Hemlock caught a glimpse of tall, rectangular yellow lights. Familiar, safe, home. They picked up the pace, trying to not run. They can’t run, it’ll pounce. By now, the voice was no longer their own. It was now their Ma’s voice, complete with her accent. “Hemlock, dear! Turn around, look at me!” That’s not Ma, it can’t be Ma. It will never be Ma. Dread had forced its way up their spine and down their gullet, sitting heavy in their stomach. They were lightly trembling and they couldn't feel their feet or hands. A faint, rotten smell had permeated the cold air, so nauseating it almost made their vision swim. They rounded the house and rushed up the steps. They threw themself through the front door and slammed it closed. They clumsily locked the door, still not able to feel their fingers.

“Hemlock!! Where in the 9 hells have you been?! Do-”

“Clara, please, look at them!” Another woman with dirty blonde hair pleaded with Hemlock’s Ma. It made her pause and really take in their child’s appearance; Hemlock was pale as a sheet, eyes wide and tears streaking down their cheeks, and shaking so violently that they could barely stand. Hemlock shattered in that moment, “M-Mama!! Mum!!!” They sobbed as they threw themself at their Mum’s legs and clung on for dear life. “Th-ther-ere’s a mon-monster!! It ha-ha-ad my voice th-th-e-en it h-had Mama’s voi-ce!” Their frantic sobs cut their sentences into sloppy chunks. They already sounded terribly hoarse. Snot ran down their face and got stuck to their Mum’s pants.

The two women exchanged startled looks and Hemlock’s Mum picked the trembling child up. She did her best to soothe them while their Ma checked and secured every window, door and room.

[ivyprism]

The Mysterious Queen of the Deep Sea (Hehehoo)

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, arranged marriage.

"You really ought to be more careful." Marina scolded Llyr who huffed. "What would possibly compel you to do that for the captain??" Marina sighed as she wrapped their arm.

"It was returning the favor," Llyr mumbled as they leaned forward. "She saved me, you know?" Llyr chuckled. They didn't notice Poinsettia at the door. She gripped the edges of the door.

"Saved you?" Marina hummed as she paused. Llyr nodded as they looked at their lap.

"It was back in Chasmia. My parents were these big nobles and they were gonna marry me off to some rich duchess from Scoria... And I wanted to run away. So I did. But I had nowhere to go and my family's spies found me..." Llyr hummed as they sat back up. "And there she was." Llyr hummed as they thought back to that time.

---------

As the rapier passed through, Llyr's eyes widened. Each spy has simply been ripped apart and knocked down by the skeleton. She was taller than them. The ribbon on her rapier blew in the breeze. They blinked as the skeleton approached them.

That's when they recognized her.

Hydrangea (or Poinsettia), the Queen of the Deep Seas, was known to have single-handedly defeated the Midnight Storm. She was both strong and gorgeous. They flushed slightly as she turned to face them. She approached and extended her hand.

"Are you alright?" Poinsettia smiled slightly, and Llyr flushed a deeper crimson. There was no denying that the poinsettia was stunning. She was a beautiful mystery.

"Yes… I mean… No, not really…" Poinsettia hummed as she assisted them up, Llyr whispered.

"Go on. I'll listen." Poinsettia said coolly. Llyr nods and the talk begins...

------

"She saved me and I owe her..." Llyr sighs as they think to themselves.

"You owe me nothing." Poinsettia huffs as the two jump. She walks over. She crosses her arms as she looks down at them. "I did nothing to deserve this." Poinsettia sighs as she pats their skull. "I'm just your captain and your friend." Poinsettia clearly states. Llyr nods.

"Yes... Captain... Thank you..." Llyr whispers as they look down a bit. Poinsettia sighs as she pokes their chest.

"Don't lower your gaze. We are equals. When you thank me, look me in the eyes." Poinsettia clasps her hands behind her back. Llyr flushes slightly as she exudes a chilly aura. "You'll never have to thank me for choosing to save you on that fateful day." Poinsettia nods to Marina, who continues to heal them.

"Yes, captain." Llyr looks her in the eyes and she smiles in response.

------------

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @underfell-crystal @fruitsnackart

[ren-is-real]

You know when

[noxyfed]

The last Dreemurr.

[ciderjacks]

contracts written in blood

+

[smoosie]

(Which arm, Viktor, huh ? Which one ??)

They were not a couple so, Jayce (who had a very bad day and just wanted to hug it out) proceeded to freak out, backed out of the lab and never mentioned it again but, Astral Viktor, that mf ? He'd be delighted to remind Jayce of that moment in time, of that missed call and watch him die from embarrassment and resentment over himself

(I'm glad they've never beaten the gay allegations and never will)

[kumzorg]

ooooh how i adore 3d models on 2d pictures im transporting myself there mentally

[lordspoooky]

Ice king is a really good character because they intoduce him and you're like "haha what a freak what's wrong with him" and then the show goes "oh! You want to know? Let me show you :)" and you end up just sitting there like

[homosexualslug]

she's the most doomed character of all time but she's so funny about it

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"Why did I do that?"

close up

[chloesimaginationthings]

Springtrap making friends in Dead by Daylight,,

[callonpeevesie]

I'm onto something I'm telling you