#I just want to pay proper tribute and that's impossible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

voilate · 7 months

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An Eye for Snow (tbosas)

Pairings: Sejanus Plinth x Fem!Reader x Coriolanus Snow?

Summary: When Magnolia Hawthorne gets herself mixed up in the Rebel, Capital crossfire to protect her close friend Sejanus, how will she navigate the already strenuous situation alongside Coriolanus Snow? (7.3k)

⚠️: Death, Explosions, Mentions of Abuse, Fighting, Minimal Swearing, Arguing

The marble floor is icy cold, sending goosebumps up my bare legs. I curse myself for wearing a skirt before realizing that I’d prefer my choice of clothing soon enough, amidst the sweltering temperatures I’m soon to face during my walk to the Arena.

“Thank you so much,” I grin guiltily at Tigris, removing the steaming bowl of cabbage soup from her warm hands. A rather gross reoccurrence of a meal that is often prepared in the Snow house, but it’s better than no meal, and who am I to judge someone who can feed me?

My stomach grumbles at the remembrance of the large meal that was provided on the day of the reaping. It was almost impossible to not stuff myself full the second I was seated, and I now regret not taking some food home with me.

It was Coriolanus himself who forbid me from doing it, though I could tell he wanted to just as badly.

“Please.” She laughs, “You have got to stop emphasizing your thanks when you’re practically a member of this household. I would take as much joy in starving you as I would Coryo.”

“Starving me?” Coriolanus enters the living area as he adjusts his coat.

“I wouldn’t starve either of you.” She smiles, “Though, one mentor seems far more grateful for my cooking than the other.”

She teasingly pats his shoulder as he passes her by without recognition, which results in a defeated look plastered on her face.

“Alright well, you two better get going unless you want to be late for,” She pauses, “What is it that you guys are doing again?”

Coriolanus opens the front door, holding it there and looking back as if anticipating my arrival.

“Taking our tributes to the arena.” I tell her, jumping to my feet and placing my barely touched soup back into her hands, “Have you or Grandma’am eaten today?”

“We will.” She smiles softly. “Now go!”

I follow after Coriolanus, grabbing the rims of my skirt and curtsying dramatically after he shuts the door behind us.

He rolls his eyes, “Must you be so polite?”

“In what other way would I find pleasure in spiting you?” I tease, wrapping my arm around his extended invitation as we walk. “Did you remember her food?”

“Of course. Did you remember yours?”

“Of course.” I echo with a sigh, “Not that she’ll even take it. Hasn’t learned to trust me like your Lucy Gray trusts you.”

I eye him as he suppresses a smile and as if alluding to something else, note, “You mustn’t pretend to be someone else around me, you know.”

“And you mustn’t use such proper dialogue in the presence of I.” He mocks. “Isn’t it exhausting?”

“And how do you know this isn’t how I naturally speak?”

“I watch you calculate each word before you vocalize it.”

“Your claim reminds me of yourself.” His brow furrows, “I always know when you are about to speak publicly based on how much attention you pay to a conversation. How deep you are into wondering when the appropriate time to weigh in is, and what the exact words are. Isn’t that exhausting?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Sejanus.” He chuckles.

“I’ve been spending too much time with you. Anyone could see it if they had the eye to.”

“Not everyone has the eye.”

“That they don’t.”

The newfound melancholy of the atmosphere deflates just as quickly as it arose. Silence replaces our lighthearted conversation.

I examine his distant expression, what is he thinking about? I’ve found myself wondering that a lot since the Hunger Games began, his constant empty gaze that suggests he’s here with you when his mind is elsewhere.

I open my mouth to comment on the heat, but his inhale slams my mouth shut.

“Any encounters with your father lately?”

Really? That’s what he was thinking about?

“Thankfully no.” I peer away, gazing out into the city that surrounds us as I pull my arm from his grasp, crossing both of my own over my chest. “Not since that night.”

He nods, digesting the newfound information before returning to his distant safe space. I can tell that wasn’t the only question on his mind but know he won’t dare ask another one. What does he think he’ll be taken as if he does? Inquisitive? Whatever the case, I drop it completely and pay my utmost attention to the anxiety that has been bundled in the pits of my stomach all morning. I make it a point to fully look away from Coriolanus as I allow the worries to take over my mind. Even the slightest scent of suspicion will turn him into a dog on our trail. Sejanus doesn’t understand that Coryo is all-knowing and that years of constant manipulation have granted him the ultimate access to everyone else’s deceits. He will undoubtedly find out sooner or later.

“Let’s hope it’s later rather than sooner.” Sejanus had half-heartedly joked, though I could tell he was just as nervous about the plan as I. Part of me wanted to tell Coriolanus. Fall onto my knees and confide in him how I had all those years ago. I want to explain that I have to help Sejanus otherwise he’ll get himself caught and hung. I used to find such warmth within Coryo, he gifted me a security that no one else could provide. Three years ago I would’ve never kept such a dire secret from him, but now? I’m not the same girl he rescued from an abusive, alcoholic father. I’m not the same girl he shielded from rumors after my moving in with him and I’m certainly not the same girl who cried tears of joy after the Rebels had been defeated.

I am a rebel now. At least in the eyes of the capital I am. I have one foot stuck in the mud of the rebel life, and the rest of me is still clinging to any Capital advantages I may be granted. The dirt on my shoe is a crime worth a rope in the sky, or worse. I sometimes recall the very last hangings that I witnessed, when the Rebels that had infiltrated the Capital were caught, and very cruelly charged. My stomach churns and I become queasy at the realization of the stark difference between my feelings towards their punishment then, and now.

I had to fight to maintain my scholarly reputation after all the ruckus about my situation broke out. I’m too afraid to disclose any information about my wanting to remain a virtuous capital student to Sejanus, who had originally begged me to keep away from the mess he had made of things. Now I’m entangled and can’t escape without risking either of our lives. The only person who could help me even begin to unravel this mess is a boy who could report me to Dr. Gaul without a second glance. I’m as good as a traitor no matter who catches me. Would Sejanus get himself killed? How far is Coriolanus willing to go for prosperity? He’s not the same boy either. He’s softer, and more understanding than he was before, all thanks to his little songbird, but I don’t think he would let me get away with this, even now.

“Everything alright?” His voice startles me back to the Capital Streets.

“Oh-“ I fumble, “Just thinking.”

“Enlighten me.”

An open invitation to admit to all of my wrongdoings, my mistakes. Maybe if I come clean I will be spared. I won’t be considered a rebel sympathizer, not just that, a rebel!

“I-“ I begin, but pause as my feet meet the entrance of the Arena. “Just my father.”

“Ah.” He nods as if understanding. “Well try to forget about that nonsense for right now, you have a tribute to attend to.”

I depart with a soft smile, leaving him at the rear of the line formed of tributes and mentors to fill the empty gap left next to Sabyn.

“Let’s go.” A peacekeeper orders, hoisting the bars above his head to allow us to file in.

Immediately our line diminishes into a clump, Sejanus and his tribute falling back to stand by my side as others just try to fill the small space. We take turns putting our assigned coin into the slot and stepping through the turnstiles, each being greeted with the same stimulating, “Enjoy the show!” I have to use my left hand to steady the trembling of my right as I attempt to fit the shaking coin through the compact hole. Finally, it falls in and clinks as it hits the bottom, signaling that I may walk through.

“Enjoy the show!”

I curl my hands into fists in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking that instantly flags me as guilty.

Don’t look scared.

I remind myself.

Don’t become a suspect.

“Enjoy the show!” Sejanus slips behind me, covertly situating his hand into mine. He brushes his thumb over the temple of my hand, soothing it to a light tremble.

I peer up at him expecting to exchange a look but he blankly stares off into the distance as if simply awaiting the arrival of the remainder of our group. I quickly avert my eyes to the Arena, which will soon be destroyed, hopefully to the extreme of canceling the Hunger Games which will send Marcus, Sabyn, and all the rest of the tributes home safely.

Suddenly that word swings back at me, whacking my newfound confidence like a lethal boomerang.

Safely?

Did the rebels ever ensure the safety of the people inside the arena? They wanted bombs placed inside, which Sejanus and I very hesitantly assisted with, but for what purpose? To hit the Capital right where it hurts, the Hunger Games. They desired the cancelation of the games, but not for the safety of the tributes, for the incitement of the Capital. To irritate them.

The words feel like toxins, threatening to bubble up and verbalize in the form of vomit.

“Ow-“ Sejanus grunts softly, forcefully pulling his hand from my harsh grasp. “Are you okay?”

“I-“ I breathe before seeing his eyes dart towards the microphone that hangs on the wall just 10 feet away from us. Has it been activated? Would it pick up my words? I swallow down any audible form of my concerns and simply verbalize, “Just surreal is all. Haven’t seen this place in person since the war.” Though my eyes illustrate all structures of my distress.

Will they die? Will we die? Will all of this anxiety-induced effort serve us no purpose? All of this, just for the mere annoyance of the Capitol?

A sad smile of recognition crosses his face. He understands. He doesn’t showcase more than a wince but I know he understands.

“Enjoy the Show!”

“All right huddle up.” The peacekeeper orders, “You get 20 minutes, that’s it! Explore, look around, get used to the place, because soon enough you’ll be living in it.” He pauses seemingly expecting us to act, “Move!”

“Where should we look?” I signal to Sejanus, wondering where the safest spot might be.

“Let’s check out the center.”

“The center?” Marcus scoffs, “What’s the point in looking around? There’s no place to hide and no escape, you can practically see everything from this spot right here!”

My eyes peer to below the microphone where I know a bomb is planted far too close to us.

“You’ll get a much better view from the center,” Sejanus begins towards it, “Come on.”

With a reluctant roll of his eyes, Marcus and Sabyn follow behind him, both trying to pretend as though their gazes aren’t exploring the arena far better from this perspective.

Strategy is hard to talk about when you know there won’t be an arena for the strategy to take place in anyways, but I can tell they both expect some ounce of advice.

“Here,” I whisper, conscientiously digging into my pockets and pulling out the slice of ham I was able to salvage from lunch at the Academy yesterday. “I’m sorry it was all I could-“ She snatches it and stuffs it into her own pockets, a small smile breaching my lips.

Suddenly a violent detonation shakes the ground and rings through my ears. I fall to the floor, covered by my arms as well as Sejanus’. Another burst sounds on the opposite side of the large room, still shaking where we helplessly lay. Then another and another until eruptions are blowing all around the edges of the arena, sending winds of rubble throughout the air.

My head lays on the ground with Sejanus buried into my shoulder. I can’t see much of anything occurring but the blood-curdling sounds are enough to know that I was right. Safety was of no priority to the Rebels.

My sobs shake the entirety of my body as the endless amounts of explosions finally halt, only heightening the shrieks produced by my classmates and their tributes. Gunshots fire close by, shrinking me deeper into the ground.

“Help!” A distinct voice calls out. “Somebody help!”

I quickly pull from Sejanus’ grasp, jumping to my feet to help Coryo, who must be in serious trouble if he risks the vulnerability that crying for help requires.

“Come on!” Sejanus grabs my hand, now on his feet as he ushers me towards the exit that is in the opposite direction of Coriolanus’ cries. When he can’t seem to pull hard enough, I’m suddenly scooped from the floor, and tossed over his shoulder, as he rushes towards the doorway just as another explosion sounds and a fiery beam comes crashing down in the spot we once stood. I can’t see Coriolanus through the smoke and instantly burst into tears, jumping from Sejanus’ arms.

“Coriolanus!” I shout to the peacekeeper who’s just thrown Livia Cardew onto the dirt floor, “Coriolanus is in there! So is Lucy Gray!”

He shares an annoyed glance with another Peacekeeper before they both reluctantly run in after them.

Sejanus entangles me in a tight embrace as his chest heaves up and down. His silent sobs crush my heart as I rub my hand over his back. All he wants is to help people, and this is what we’ve done.

“Sejanus-“ My voice breaks. I try to comfort him. I want to explain that this isn’t our fault, that we could’ve never predicted what would’ve happened, but the lie I almost vocalize forces even worse cries from the pits of my stomach, and I can’t find the space to speak in between the sobs and quick breathes I attempt to take. This is entirely our fault.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“He’s gonna miss Lucy Gray’s interview,” I note, standing to watch as Caesar Flickerman introduces his songbird.

Tigris and Grandma’am follow close behind me.

“Well let me quit my jabbering and introduce the real star of the show. Lucy Gray Baird!”

I watch as the beautiful girl, in her newly cleaned rainbow dress approaches the microphone. For a split second, she looks nervous, but in an instant, the anxiety fades into confidence. She slips her hair behind her ear, smiling and waving to the crowd as if it were just another performance back in 12. Coriolanus should be up there with her, but instead, he’s here with us, hospitalized and asleep, in the same state he’s been confined to since the bombing 3 days ago.

“Own it,” I whisper, recalling the advice that she had given to Coryo the day he got locked in the monkey cage along with the rest of the tributes.

“Oh, she will.” Tigris smiles, “How could she not while wearing a clean dress like that!”

Lucy Gray had entrusted Tigris with the duty of tidying up the special dress she had worn since Reaping Day. It does look beautiful, and I can’t help but grin at the proud arrogance that Tigris finally possesses.

“When I was a babe I fell down in the holler

When I was a girl I fell into your arms. We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color.

You went to the dogs and I lived by my charms. I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey. You stole and you gambled and I said you should. We sang for our suppers and we drank up our money.

Then one day you left, saying I was no good

Well, all right, I'm bad, but then, you're no prize either. All right, I'm bad, but then, that's nothing new. You say you won't love me, well I won't love you neither.

Just let me remind you who I am to you

'Cause I am the one who looks out when you're leaping. And I am the one who knows how you were brave. And I am the one who knows what you said sleeping, I'll take that and more when I go to my grave.

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under It's sooner than later that you'll be alone. So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder, For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own

For when the bell rings, lover, you're on your own I am the one who you let see you weeping I know the soul that you struggle to save.

Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping. Now what will you do when I go to my grave?”

As Lucy Gray finishes the song everyone had hoped she would sing, tears fill the eyes of each person in the emergency room, including my own.

“That was… beautiful.” Tigris sniffles.

“Lucy Gray surely knows how to put on a show.”

“Coryo!” I gasp, jumping into his arms as he stumbles, almost falling back onto the floor before stabling himself and embracing me with mirrored passion. Though, he could never begin to understand how grateful I am that he’s awake. There would not be a moment during the remainder of my miserable life that I would forgive myself or Sejanus for getting him killed.

“I-“ I begin, my eyes swelling with tears, “Thank you for waking up.”

“It was the least I could do,” He laughs weakly. I finally gain the courage to release him to allow Tigris and the Grandma’am to cherish his awakening.

I turn to face the television screen again, closing my eyes and exhaling the deepest sigh of relief.

I have to come clean. I have to tell Coriolanus about what Sejanus and I did, and what he intends on continuing to do. I haven’t decided whether or not I could bear to resume helping the rebels after what they did, or almost did, to Coryo, but admitting my crimes to him will be the last and final declaration that I am done.

After the pleasantries with his family cease, he places his arms around my neck and traps me in a tight embrace, a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

Oh, how that smile would have faded had he known how he got into this situation in the first place. But for now, I just gratefully accept it, leaning my head onto the side of his, and wrapping my arms around the ones he holds below my neck.

“I heard you sent the peacekeepers after me.”

“And I heard Lucy Gray rescued you from beneath a fiery beam,” I smirk, raising my brows. “I suppose we’re both hearing things.”

“Suppose so.”

His gaze lingers on mine, or rather mine on his. I’ve never been so thankful to see those annoyingly piercing blue eyes and perfect locks of blonde hair. “Can you guys give us a moment?” I turn back to Tigris, who nods with a smile and immediately grabs the Grandma’am’s hand, both of them taking their leave. “So,” I smile anxiously, untangling his hands from my body and moving to sit in the same waiting chair I’ve sat in for the past 48 hours.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know how to say this-“ My words tremble, threatening to collapse at any moment.

“Are you alright?” He quickly takes a seat on his hospital bed, truly interested in whatever I may say next. I can visibly see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to piece together what I’ll say next before I’m granted the words to say it.

I also, try to construct my next sentence before saying it aloud, not sure how to tell him it’s my fault he almost got killed. I don’t waste time apologizing and try my best to blink back the tears that now gloss my eyes. He doesn’t care about this performance I feel as though I’m putting on, I just-

“I think I’ve involved myself with the rebels,” I whisper, almost inaudible.

“You- what?”

“I know.” I correct, “I know I’ve involved myself with the rebels. I-“ Tears descend my cheeks, but I ignore their presence, as does Coriolanus, “I put the bombs in the area.”

He stared at me, eyes wide in confusion.

“You?”

“I wanted to tell you this morning,” I whimper, “That I regretted it, that I needed your help to fix my mistakes but I was so scared Coryo-“

“No-“ He stands, backing away from me. “You can’t- you shouldn’t have- do you understand the position you’ve just trapped me in?” His voice slightly raises before he registers the darted glances being sent toward himself, “You’ve involved me just as much as you’ve involved yourself by telling me this! What do you expect me to do? Report you?”

“No- Well- maybe that’s what I expected you to do but I hoped you wouldn’t!”

“And Sejanus?” He orders, “I’m sure your little vitiated district boyfriend is the one who dragged you into this mess?”

As much as I would like to blame anyone but myself in this moment of vulnerability, I can’t.

“He was the one who begged me to stay out of it,” I mutter, eyes peering to the floor.

“Why-“

“Shhh!” A nearby nurse shushed, uses a single remote to collectively heighten the volume of all five televisions in the room.

“And one last message before we let you all go for the night!” Caesar Flickerman announces gleefully, he touches his earpiece to hear for himself what the announcement may be. His eyes widen with shock, and then fade to melancholy. “Well folks, I’ve just been given word that the 10th annual Hunger Games will still be commencing! In two days, don’t miss it! Thank you all and have a-“

The world around me fades into a blur as my heart sinks to the deepest pits of my stomach. If I had eaten anything more than a few sips of cabbage soup today, I’m sure I would vomit it up at this very moment. I struggle to find air to inhale before the confidence of Coriolanus’ claim snaps me back to reality.

“I presume that’s why you did it? To stop the games?”

“That’s why I did it, yes,” I state blankly.

“But not them?”

“They wanted to irritate the Capital.”

“Us.” He corrects bitterly, “We are the Capital, Lia, they wanted to irritate us, don’t let yourself forget it.”

“It all seems so pointless, now. To irritate the capital, to almost lose you, to become a traitor, for what? For my tribute to be dead, Marcus to be missing, and the games to continue?”

“What?”

“I’ll see you at home, Coriolanus.” I push myself out of my chair, leaving him alone in the dullness of the hospital room.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I wipe my tear-filled eyes, though I’m sure the red and puffiness of them is not concealable.

“You should’ve known better.” Coriolanus reprimands for the tenth time this morning. I desperately long for our walk to the Academy together, where we’ll be in public and he can’t shame me any longer. “I mean really, what were you thinking?”

“That I could make a difference, Coryo. Is that so hard to digest?”

“You need to stay away from Sejanus. He’s filling your mind with these fantasies! That’s all they are!” He slams his bag down on the kitchen counter, stuffing it full of the few snacks he was able to collect for Lucy Gray, “You think that these creatures are like us and they’re not. They are district, you are Capital!”

“We’re people! Is Lucy Gray a creature? I see how you look at her Coriolanus. How your gaze lingers on her from across the room. You’re the creature! You’re a venomous snake who’s going to squeeze the life out of that poor songbird and I’m not going to be around to see it!”

“You almost got me killed, Magnolia.” He shouts. “And I’m the creature?”

“You’re going to wake the others up.” I deflect, knowing Tigris didn’t get much sleep last night. She hasn’t slept since the bombing, too worried for Coryo. Of course, he doesn’t give a damn about her or anyone else who has the displeasure of knowing him.

“You know what? You’re right!” He exclaims, refusing to change the subject, “You won’t be around to see it, and neither will Sejanus. If neither of you can follow a simple set of instructions or at least pretend to carry the ideology the Capital requires of you then you’ll be hung for your rebel crimes!”

“Coriolanus!” Tigris reprimands, rushing into the room just as he slams the front door behind himself.

I crumble to the floor, burying my head into my bruised knees.

“Oh, Magnolia,” Tigris comforts. She wraps her arms around me in a warm hug, brushing her fingers through my hair as I cry into her shoulder, “He would never report you to anyone for anything. I don’t know what it is that you guys are bickering about but everything shall pass with time. I promise.”

Her quiet assurances and physical touch have transformed my muffled sobs into soft gasps for air that come in waves. She releases me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and kissing the top of my head. “I’m off to work, love, but please don’t take Coryo’s empty threats seriously. He would report you just as soon as reporting me, or Grandma’am.

She grabs her purse and quickly rushes out of the door as if she were not half an hour late to work because of me.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The chill of the fresh morning air has turned the apartment damp, the humidity causing me to sweat due to our broken ventilation system.

I pick myself up from the floor, dragging my feet to the miraculously functioning phone that hangs next to the doorway that connects the kitchen and living room.

Today is the mentors' last day with their tributes before they’re thrown into the Arena and forced to become the creatures everyone believes them to be. The only people who have no purpose of reporting to the Academy are Androcles, Guis Breen, Sejanus, and myself, since all of our tributes were killed before the games even started, so I expect they should all be home.

I dial the number Sejanus had me memorize the second he let me involve myself with the Rebels and await the ringing to stop.

“Hello?” A voice deeper than the one Sejanus possesses answers.

“Good..” I drag out, looking at my watch to decipher the time, “Afternoon, Mr Plinth! Is Sejanus home?”

“Sejanus!” He shouts as footsteps patter to the phone, “Here he is.”

“Maggy?” My heart warms, the nickname my mother used to refer to me serving like morphing to the pain. The only time I ever hear the name anymore is in the presence of Sejanus, every other Capital student refusing to call me it. Even Coryo claims that it sounded too district, resulting in my new, more widely used nickname, Lia.

“Sejanus,” I smile, feeling like I’ve been granted a breath of fresh air just through the sound of his voice. I don’t want to spoil the rare happiness and can’t talk about the rebels through our likely monitored phone conversations anyway, “Please come over?”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

The line disconnects and I move to the front door that he meets me at less than ten minutes later. He doesn’t live very close to us, but his car of the latest Capital technology allows him to travel at the highest of speeds, making it here in record-breaking time.

When his knock sounds at the door, I realize that he’s never been inside the Snow apartment before, and wonder if I’m crossing the simplest of lines by having him over.

I shake the thoughts from my head, opening the door and allowing him inside with very little confidence.

“Hey,” He smiles, wrapping his arms around me before closing the door with his leg and following my lead to the living room.

“Maybe we should meet at your house from this point on,” I suggest, shifting uncomfortably as he takes a seat on the cold marble ground next to me. Not a single piece of furniture decorates this bland space except for the TV sitting on a run-down coffee table. Almost all of it was gone upon my arrival, Tigris explaining that it all had to be either sold or thrown into their fireplace amidst the war just to grant them the barest of food and warmth.

“The war hit us, or- them pretty harshly.” He nods considerately, seemingly paying no attention to the interior of the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I just- feel awful.” He sighs, hiding his face in his hands, “Both of our tributes are as good as dead, the Ring twins are in the hospital, we almost killed Coriolanus, and for what? For the games to continue anyways?”

“I know.” I adjust my body to be leaning against the side of his as he slips his hand into mine. I debate whether or not I should tell him about my quarrel with Coriolanus this morning, in turn, admitting to having revealed our part in the Rebel bombing, risking both of our deaths.

“Are you alright?” Sejanus’ gaze lingers on my tear-stained face, his thumb rising to caress my puffy undereyes.

“I just didn’t take the news well, is all.”

“Me neither, it’s just sickening! I barely got any sleep last night, couldn’t close my eyes without picturing Sabyn’s warm lifeless body. The peacekeepers cared more about shooting her dead than helping to keep others alive! And then Marcus! Condemned to a life of torture should he be caught.”

“He won’t be.”

“He will be. He has nowhere to go, no place to hide, and thousands of people on the lookout for him every day. I just hope his death is quick.”

The mood of the room falls flat, neither of us knowing how to recover from such a dim topic so quickly, so neither of us does. Instead, I give in to the heftiness of my eyelids, allowing myself to gain full support from Sejanus’ body as he rests himself against the wall behind us.

He buries his hand in my full head of hair, massaging the migraine he didn’t even know existed until my eyes can’t keep themselves open any longer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

I startle at the sound of a door slamming shut, barely catching a glimpse of Coriolanus’ hefty blonde curls swooshing from the harsh swing of the door.

I shake Sejanus, who leans against the wall with his head angled up and an arm wrapped protectively around my body.

“Hey- I’m sorry to wake you but I’ll be right back, okay?” I jump to my feet, already starting towards the door, “I’ve gotta- I’ll be right back.”

What time is it?

Through the windows I swiftly pass by, I examine how the sun begins to set over the horizon, estimating how much of the shining circle still soars above the skyline. I approximate it’s about 5 o’clock. meaning we slept for 3 hours.

“Coryo!” I call, catching sight of him shooting down the complex stairs. “Coryo please wait!” How was he off mentor duty so early? I didn’t expect him to arrive back home until at least nine. Not that my unconscious body would’ve known the difference between now and then, but still, it could’ve bought me some time.

Mere inches away from his escape, Coriolanus gets stopped by an older woman, and panting from his long walk he bends down to pick something up that she seems to have dropped.

“Thank you, son.” She breathes feebly as he hands the magazine showcasing Lucy Gray’s face back to her.

“Coriolanus.” I wheeze, “You almost forgot about me!”

“Oh, you too have fun.” The woman knowingly smiles, retreating to her room before we can allow ourselves to speak freely.

“I’m sorry it’s not-“

I slightly anticipate him to make a run for it, but instead, he just extends his arm, willing me to wrap mine around it, and continues walking through the front doors of the apartment complex, leaving me utterly speechless.

“What was Sejanus Plinth doing inside of the Snow house?”

I begin to plead my case, before truly wondering, what was Sejanus doing? All we had done was confide in each other over our guilty consciencees. Why had I called him in the first place? Knowing the solemnity of our situation, I feel rather dull for allowing him over and realize that I really should’ve listened to Coriolanus.

I watch the gears behind his eyes, turning as he plans out his entire stance in this difficult situation. Will he report me? Will he cause a scene? How will he protect himself from my rebellious mistakes?

Suddenly, I realize how Coriolanus constantly finds himself in such a wide pool of success.

“I want to report him,” I mutter, peering over my shoulder to make sure nobody’s listening to us. He eyes me conspicuously. “There’s nothing to trace his crimes back to me. Not a phone call, not an item, nothing. Only his word against mine.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, a glimpse of hope glimmering in his eyes.

“I’m sure. And if the Capital discovers my part in the bombing,” I pause, bracing myself, “I’ll be hung and that will be that.”

The statement itself sends shivers down my spine, threatening to turn my legs into jello, I won’t allow that to happen. Nor will I let them hang Sejanus. He’s never belonged in this district and he’s helped me realize that neither do I. I’ll come with Coriolanus to report Sejanus on my terms, hopefully buying us enough time to escape this hell before they can tie his noose.

“What caused this sudden change of heart?”

“I realized in my time spent with him today, that not only is he a danger to our home, but he’s a danger to me as well. I never meant to get involved as much as I did and can’t continue to risk my entire being just to help him any longer. He’s chosen his life.”

Coriolanus nods approvingly. “All these years, he’s longed for us to forget where he came from. Wanted us to pretend he was one of us, and it wasn’t to spite him that we couldn’t. It was his attitude that didn’t allow us to see past him being district.” I smile in genuine agreement, reminiscing on my absolute favorite trait that Sejanus possesses, and find myself almost envious. Sejanus never let the Capital ruin him.

“Well, not everyone can live up to Capital standards. Most capital born won’t ever amount to us.”

He chuckles, the security of having Coriolanus by my side numbing the previous helpless feeling.

“I’ll tell Dr Gaul everything I know and pray she takes my information for what it is, and nothing more. Sejanus will be hung, and he will die, along with the troubles he poisons our lives with.”

“So you blame him entirely for your little rebellion phase?”

“Well, I believe everyone has to dip their foot into the other puddle before you truly stop wondering if it’s clearer, Sejanus just helped to mud the dirt.”

I almost feel guilty for talking about Sejanus in this manner, though I speak in gallons of truth, hiding drops of lies amongst them. Coryo isn’t stupid he’s one of the brightest people I know, emotionally and intelligently. Something inside of him just knows things, and a full lie can’t deceive him, but an almost truth might. I do believe that you’ll never stop longing for rebellion until you try it for yourself, but what I don’t tell Coriolanus, is that I also believe that sometimes you might find that the puddle in question is clearer. A clearer, bigger, better, more humane puddle that can save you from everything that burdens you in life may just be waiting for you to dip your foot in, and when you do you’ll never rid of the dirt.

So yes, though Sejanus is to fault for my rebellion phase, and I blame him entirely, I owe him nothing short of my life for it.

The sun is no longer brightening the sky by the time we reach the citadel. I wonder if Doctor Gaul will even be here so late in the night, but Coryo seems certain she will be.

“We’d like to speak with Doctor Gaul.” He tells the peacekeeper guarding the elevator, “It’s urgent.”

The peacekeeper touches the side of his head, seemingly listening in to orders from his earpiece.

“Go ahead. Level -10.” He scans his card and the elevator dings open, inviting us inside. As soon as we’ve both stepped through the door, it slams shut and plummets down, hitting our destination in under ten seconds flat.

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus assures, slightly winded himself.

“Yeah.”

We step into the overbearingly white laboratory, passing cages filled with different failed Capital mutations. I stand as close to the center of the aisle as I can, avoiding a personal view of the enclosures as I brush against Coriolanus’s protective build.

“Pitter patter, the blood goes splatter, and a rebel fought war will be lost i’m….” She trails off.

“Sure.” Coriolanus finishes, “Will be lost, I’m sure.”

She turns to face us from her platform, clapping delightedly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Does she know why we’ve come? Or is it just an ordinary day in the laboratory when she makes up unnerving Rebel rhymes?

“What for?” I inquire, confidently.

“Coriolanus owes me a paper.”

I turn to him and he nods as if in remembrance, “Yes, I do, though that’s not why we’ve decided to visit.”

“Then what’s the cause?”

He falls back, signaling for me to take full control of the situation, something he doesn’t offer up very often.

“You’re familiar with the mentor, and student, Sejanus Plinth, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Well, I deeply regret to inform you that he’s been,” I falter, unable to phrase my accusation, “dealing with rebels.”

“Oh?” She grins viciously, descending the steps of her platform and approaching Coriolanus and me.

“I know not entirely of his Rebel associations, but am certain that he aided them in the planting of bombs in the arena.”

Her piercing green eyes inspect every aspect of my face, searching for a hint of what emotion I must be feeling.

After a long moment, she finally declares, “We had our suspicions. Though, it is improbable that he was working alone. Are you informed of any other rebels hidden amongst the Capital?”

“No ma’am.”

“Coriolanus?”

“Hadn’t a clue that rebels were still amid the Capital until today.” He almost truths.

“Well, you must’ve assumed.”

“I could’ve.” He considers, “Though it entirely slipped my mind.”

“Well,” She smiles, “Thank you for your confirmation. Your sacrifice means a great deal to your Capital, and I hope you will inform us of any information you may come across in the future.”

“Of course,” I return warmly, “Good night, Dr Gaul.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Our walk back home was too silent, almost eerily. We had barely made it back to the apartment when a storm of peacekeepers rushed past and I remembered the vulnerable state that I left Sejanus in. Half asleep, and in my own home without a single advance on what I was planning.

What if they already found him? What if his noose is being tied as we speak? What if-

“Everything alright?” Coriolanus incredulously pesters.

“Yep.”

That is all I can manage. Something feels very wrong. An anxiety-induced hole bubbles in the pits of my stomach as I try to maintain my composure. Coriolanus can’t know that I’m worried about Sejanus… or maybe I could play into that role. An innocent friend who knows she’s done the right thing but still can’t seem to digest the gravity of the situation. Will he think me weak? Will he believe a word I say?

I consider the performance I may execute, before realizing how similar to Coriolanus I feel in this very moment. Calculating, gears turning, trying to analyze every piece of my affairs while simultaneously attempting to feed the impression of innocence.

Is Coriolanus performing? Pretending to believe and support every lie I present him with just to double back at the last second? Or does he have no concept of the truth behind my motives?

I liven my pace, acting as though out of pure interest though really in concern for Sejanus’ well-being, and desire to escape the constant agonizing burden that is Coriolanus Snow.

I hear his feet patter behind me, the tempo of his steps quickening as mine accelerate. He’s chasing me. He knows. He knows that I never intended on allowing Sejanus to be hung for his- our crimes, and he doesn’t intend on his life being spared.

I’m full-fledged sprinting now, desperately dodging people as well as random rubble that lines the streets. Am I trying to save Sejanus or escape Coryo? Either way, I don’t relent, darting through the electric doors of our apartment complex and shooting up the stairs. He’s on my tail, a mere arm's length away as I shove into the Snow household and startle awake.

I lay strapped to a hospital bed in the overly white laboratory room. Blinking in owlish incomprehension, I slightly tilt my head as much as the big machine attached to it will permit, and squint my eyes to make out an unconscious Sejanus, the top of his scalp removed entirely from his head as a machine scans his brain.

My head pounds and the blinding lights force my eyes shut, i’m left blind as hands prod at different pieces of my limbs.

I squirm disobediently in my best attempts to be free of the shackles I’ve worn for the past 3 days. For a mere moment the memories come flooding back as tears descend my cheeks.

The night that Sejanus and I had chosen to plant bombs in the arena, had coincidentally been the same night Coriolanus had wanted to sneak in for himself, in search of good hiding places for Lucy Gray. None of which existed until the bombs went off- except they never did. Coriolanus turned on us before anyone else had ever unsafely entered the place.

I recall seeing the gears turning in his mind as he toyed with the though of giving us a second chance, but he never did like how personal my relations were with him. How familiar I was with his way of thought, or how close I was to discovering his genuine self.

Now they spend their days testing our brains, digging through our memories, warping them for research, trying to find the rebels who gave us the bombs in the first place. But whoever granted them to us made sure they could never be traced. They knew we were likely to fail, it’s almost as if they willed it to happen.

A needle jabs through my shoulder, morphing soothing the headache that I felt only moments ago, as the world fades away along with the remembrance of Sejanus and I’s new reality.

Upon entering the room, I find an unconscious Sejanus, sleeping exactly where I left him, entirely oblivious to the tragedy that almost awaited us and exhale a sigh of relief.

#tbosbas #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #the hunger games #snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #lucy gray baird #tigris snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #writers #tbosbas fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #fanfiction

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7grandmel · 1 year

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Todays rip [First 30 Archive] - 27/05/2023

Telling Fish Tales

Season 4 Episode 1 Featured on: Now That’s What I Call Quality! 2 Also on: I JUST WANNA DO CATCH SOME FISHS

Ripped by Marrow YouTube Visuals by LarryInc64, SparkBag, Keeby10 & Kolyasisian

youtube

Both of my most recent shoutouts were to rips with a lot of tragedy behind them, and I want to round that series of thoughts out with the most evident example of such on the channel. Because on the outside looking in, SiIvaGunner appears to be nothing much more than a machine - users submit their rips, the rips are added to a queue, and then spat out once its their time. But anyone who’s been with the channel for any substantial period of time knows the humanity present behind the stone-faced sculpture the channel hides behind. There are human beings who cherish one another and cherish what they create working on SiIvaGunner. Human beings who cherished Marrow. Human beings who refuse to let Marrows legacy fade.

To those uninitiated, Marrow was a prominent ripper on the channel, often one who stuck to his own guns rather than follow in suit with the popular games and memes. As a speedrunner of particular games, notably 3DS StreetPass games, his rips of said games would often stand out amidst the crowd, as niche picks still filled with effort and passion for the channel. Only a short while after his passing, his legacy would be celebrated with rips almost exclusively of fishing games - in reference to his most ripped and played game, StreetPass Fishing.

I can never say that I was friends with Marrow - like many of SiIva’s contributors, he worked very much behind closed doors with the rest of the team, gladly letting the credit fall to SiIvaGunner as a whole rather than to himself. Yet since his passing, the rest of the team has made sure never to forget him - Telling Fish Tales was an album-exclusive rip by Marrow himself that, when time came to pay him tribute, was mastered and given beautiful visuals by other members of the team, to give him as proper a sendoff as any. Be it through 8 PM (Fishing Night in Heaven) or further uploads over the years in his memory, the SiIva team have made it full-on impossible for us to forget the impact he had on the channel. And that kind of humanity really just warms my heart.

#first 30 archive #season 4 episode 1 #siivagunner #siiva #Marrow #LarryInc64 #SparkBag #Keeby10 #Kolyasisian #streetpass #nintendo 3ds #3ds #Youtube #Bandcamp

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melblur · 1 year

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Todays rip: 27/05/2023

Telling Fish Tales

Featured on: Now That’s What I Call Quality! 2 Ripped by Marrow YouTube Visuals by LarryInc64, SparkBag, Keeby10 & Kolyasisian

youtube

Both of my most recent shoutouts were to rips with a lot of tragedy behind them, and I want to round that series of thoughts out with the most evident example of such on the channel. Because on the outside looking in, SiIvaGunner appears to be nothing much more than a machine - users submit their rips, the rips are added to a queue, and then spat out once its their time. But anyone who's been with the channel for any substantial period of time knows the humanity present behind the stone-faced sculpture the channel hides behind. There are human beings who cherish one another and cherish what they create working on SiIvaGunner. Human beings who cherished Marrow. Human beings who refuse to let Marrows legacy fade.

I can never say that I was friends with Marrow - like many of SiIva's contributors, he worked very much behind closed doors with the rest of the team, gladly letting the credit fall to SiIvaGunner as a whole rather than to himself. Yet since his passing, the rest of the team has made sure never to forget him - Telling Fish Tales was an album-exclusive rip by Marrow himself that, when time came to pay him tribute, was mastered and given beautiful visuals by other members of the team, to give him as proper a sendoff as any. Be it through 8 PM (Fishing Night in Heaven) or further uploads over the years in his memory, the SiIva team have made it full-on impossible for us to forget the impact he had on the channel. And that kind of humanity really just warms my heart.

#todays siivagunner #siivagunner #siiva #streetpass #3ds #vgm #Youtube

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chrisframeofficial · 1 year

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Britannia is a beautiful, well designed ship with one major missing feature!

youtube

I visited Britannia in 2019 while the ship was in Southampton and I liked almost all of what I saw.

The atrium is the first area I wanted to talk about. While it only spans three decks the space actually has a point.

It is surrounded by cafes, bars, shops and The Glass House, making it more than just a thoroughfare but part of the entertainment and meal offering aboard.

The most striking part of the atrium’s design is the huge starburst art installation that hangs from the ceiling. It extending down over two decks and is impossible to miss so it definitely draws attention. At the forward end of the space there’s a spiral staircase that connects the three decks of the atrium.

Second, I really liked Britannia’s three formal dining rooms. Two of them in particular caught my eye; the Peninsular and the Oriental – the words that form the P and O in P&O’s name. The third is the Meridian, a name that comes from the first class lounge aboard P&O’s Canberra.

Given my interest in maritime history, the use of these historic names makes me happy… Given there are three dining spaces, the rooms are all smaller than you might expect. But this creates a more intimate feeling in each room which is a good thing given the size and scope of the ship is huge.

Thirdly, Britannia’s Sports and Sun Decks have lots of outdoor space for you to enjoy the sun… though when I was aboard there wasn’t any sunshine to be seen! There’s space for you to go for a jog, and heaps of deckchairs to lounge around on.

The top decks have three reasonable sized swimming pools (as well as one tiny plunge pool at the back).

From the top decks you get a great view of Britannia’s two funnels – which are a bit of a throwback to the Canberra’s famous twin smokestacks, though those aboard Britannia are much bigger and boxier than Canberra’s.

Now on the topic of deck space – this brings me to the one thing I really didn’t like about Britannia.

There’s no boat deck!

Despite the popularity of the boat deck (or Prom Deck) aboard P&O’s older ships, Britannia has no true wrap around promenade. There’s only a few very small observation nooks on Main Deck, which is a huge downside if you enjoy a regular stroll on the boat deck during sea days.

Fortunately P&O doesn’t have this problem on their newest ships Arvia and Iona, which do feature a proper Promenade Deck.

Back to the positives!

Brodies’ was the fourth thing I loved about Britannia. This is a spacious bar with a striking black & white floor and seating overlooking the port side of the ship. But it’s the name of this bar that caught my attention, as it pays tribute to one P&O’s founders: Brodie McGhie Wilcox. Wilcox teamed up with Arthur Anderson in the 19th century to create the shipping company Wilcox & Anderson Co. Under the direction of the two, the company grew to become P&O – one of the largest and most influential shipping lines in the world.

Arthur Anderson is probably the more famous of the two founders, as he was probably more entrepreneurial and definitely more enthusiastic with the media. But while many of the P&O Cruises ships have an Andersons Bar – Wilcox seems to have missed out – until Britannia - which is a good thing.

My fifth favourite part of Britannia is the Crows Nest Bar; which continues a tradition from the P&O Canberra, where the forward facing was first named Crows Nest. This is a play on the ‘lookout platform’ that ships had on their mast, which was also called the crows nest.

Since Canberra, many P&O ships have had a Crows Nest. It is found at the forward end of Lido deck, with views over the ship’s bow. A large bar at the back of the room serves drinks day and night.

I really liked Britannia and apart from the missing boat deck I think she’s a really nice design. The decor is well thought out and internally the ship is easy to navigate.

I’m hoping to one day sail aboard the ship. I’m very fond of Aurora so it would be fascinating to experience a larger ship in P&O service.

#Britannia #P&O #p&O Cruises #Cruise ship #Youtube

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years

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No Time To Die - A strong departure for a fantastic Bond

So there is no secret to the fact that Craig's Bond tenure has had a mixed critical response. Casino Royale and Skyfall are considered in the top 5 Bond films of all time by many. Given that there are now 25 Bond films, that is an impressive achievement for any single Bond actor. Unfortunately they are also offset by the fact that Quantum of Solace and Spectre are largely considered disappointments. I think this is partly because of the incredible reception of their respective predecessors. I don't dislike either of them and I enjoy them for the most part, while recognizing their flaws but they are noticeably inferior to Casino Royale and Skyfall. So No Time to Die comes with pressure of sending Craig's Bond, who has been brilliant through the his movies' highs and lows, off on a strong note. Having watched the movie, I will say that it is a significant improvement over Spectre and definitely a strong end to Craig's Bond era, even if it may not hit the heights of Casino Royale and Skyfall. I would say its a lot closer in quality to the CR and Skyfall than it is to Spectre and QoS.

I don't want to reveal any spoilers for the film but so can't say much about the plot, but given its the longest Bond film by almost 20 mins, it doesn't feel like it. Its actually a film where you get consistently invested in the plot and the characters. There are lots of returning characters and there are some good new characters who add a lot to the movie. The film pays tribute to Bond movies of the past, like films like OHMSS as well as previous Craig era Bond films.

The action in the film is excellent. I would say in terms of action, it is second maybe only to Casino Royale. There is a visceral nature to it. There is a sequence set in Cuba that is particularly brilliant. The pre-credits scenes are again fantastic. The film has an opening that is basically straight out of a horror movie and is really brilliant. That is followed by an exceptional sequence in Italy which has been foreshadowed in the trailers. There are strong action scenes littered throughout the film.

Lea Seydoux returns as Madeleine as the only Bond girl to every make a reappearance. I have to admit that I was a little worried because I wasn't completely sold on the chemistry between Craig and Seydoux in Spectre and that romance kind of came out of nowhere. However, I think they are much better together in this movie. I think their scenes together are much better written and the actors feel like they are more comfortable in their character's relationship with one another. Its still not as strong as the chemistry shared with Eva Green but I feel that was lightning in a bottle type stuff which is impossible to replicate. Admittedly, there is a marked reference to Vesper, which while poignant and meaningful, does remind you of that chemistry. There is that musical cue from CR that briefly reappears in a beautiful moment. Overall, Seydoux is really good in the movie. Lashanna Lynch appears as the new 007. I am sure there will be outrage over her taking Bond's moniker but she is excellent in the role and the dynamic between her and Bond is really funny and there is the slow build up of respect between the two that is really well done. Naomie Harris is back as Moneypenny and she's strong as she has always been, although the last two films haven't given her enough to do given how she was introduced in Skyfall. One of the big highlights of the film for me was Ana De Armas in a delightful cameo during the Cuba scene. She is adorable and badass and looks amazing in the gown. You immediately want to see much more of her. She and Craig manage to replicate their fun chemistry from Knives Out during that section. Her role is quite brief but she leaves a major impact. If Amazon is interested in doing spinoffs of Bond, I would suggest to start with her character.

All the other returning cast members are terrific as well. Fiennes has a substantial role in the movie as his actions are very directly linked to the plot of the movie. He's excellent as always. Ben Whishaw is also terrific again as Q. He's been one of the big highlights of the Craig era Bond films. Again, he gets a fairly sizable role with him playing a pretty active role in climax. Rory Kinnear continues to be a welcome presence as Tanner. I'm glad he hasn't been ignored as new cast members have come in. Jeffrey Wright reappears as Felix Leiter and his presence is another highlight of the movie. Despite him having been missing from the past two films, this movie does a great job re-establishing the brotherhood between Bond and Felix and there is some great fun and emotional scenes between them.

Christoph Waltz returns as Blofeld in a brief role and he is effectively used in a pretty intense scene that evokes Hannibal Lecter. Billy Magnussen appears as a side villain who Bond has a grudge against. There is a henchmen with a robotic eye who appears throughout the film. What unfortunately drags the film down below Casino Royale and Skyfall levels is Rami Malek's Safin. He is not a strong villain for such a big movie. He has a phenomenal entry scene, but he is only present in the last act. Apart from an obsession with Madeleine and a creepy look, there is nothing really that distinguishes him from a garden variety terrorist. We don't really get to know what his ideology is and why he specifically wants to do what he does. Even Greene in QoS had a clear motive for power and control. Malek also seems a bit miscast because the role seems to be for someone who is older than he is. I guess it doesn't help that Malek generally looks young for his age. Its unfortunate because a really good villain would have made this film brilliant, but because of a lack of proper motivation besides global terror, he doesn't really hold up despite Malek's best efforts.

Daniel Craig is the glue that holds the movie together. He is absolutely outstanding here. I think this is the most relaxed he has been in the role and also the most vulnerable. It might just be his best performance out of all five films. He wears his age comfortably, not unwilling to let Bond be vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, but continuing to be an absolute badass. He also just seems to be having a lot of fun in the role. There is plenty of humor in the film and he gets a good chunk of it. He's excellent in the emotional and dramatic scenes which give the movie so much more weight towards the end of the movie. He really is the beating heart of the film. I really think they should take a sizable break from Bond after this film because Craig's shadow will be long and very difficult for a new actor without some distance. He's definitely my favorite Bond, having seen all 25 films because he has given Bond nuances and vulnerability that previous version just haven't. Its a great goodbye to him because he is phenomenal here.

Cary Fukunaga does a real strong job directing this film. Like I mentioned before, the film is never boring despite its long running time. The writing for the villain is what lets the film down but technically and performance wise, this film is terrific. It may not be the perfect send off for Craig's Bond but its an absolutely worthy send off. I'm looking forward to seeing it again to see if my opinions change a bit. For now, this is like an 8-8.5/10

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the-hetchia-universe · 4 years

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So i found i miciti disney of phantom blot!

And i wanted to share the translated version of the interview ! ( and i like he has some kinda story behind the interview. The extras will be on a reblog post.)

"If I didn't have a heart of gold..."

Meeting within the walls of the prison with the one who likes to call himself a villain unique in style, intelligence and personality. A true emperor of crime, if it were not for the too much sensitivity that makes him hate violence and has prevented him on various occasions to get rid of the enemy Mickey, for now.

When it was decided to dedicate a volume - and a coin - to The Phantom blot, it was prudently placed towards the end of the series, in the belief that sooner or later the person concerned would be available for the ritual interview.

The reasoning did not make a wrinkle: more than six months would have been enough for him to try to pull off one of his famous shots, which would have been followed by the probable (not to say inevitable) arrest, and so it would have been easy to meet him in the cooler.

And instead, time has passed and no news of the lantitante Phantom blot has been heard.

That he had decided to take a long vacation or, even worse, to retire permanently from...business?

The only hope of not being forced to write with blank pages was placed in the major expert of the black character and his nemesis for sixty years, and that is Mickey. Who immediately reassured us. "No, Phantom Blot doesn't know what the holidays are," he said convinced.

"And as for the idea of retiring, I don't think it ever even crossed his twisted mind. He's not the type to sit on his hands, and even if he was, he'd never retire before he took me off the streets. He swore it to me... and he's not the type to break his word."

But then how did you explain him not talking about himself for so long?

"He's on a break," sentenced Mickey. "he's preparing a big score... and I know which one too!"

At the Mousetown Research Center, very advanced studies were underway on a device to make people invisible. Very secret studies, of course, but not for Phantom Blot, as revealed by an ingenious electronic bug system discovered by chance at the Center.

There was no doubt that he was the one who planted them.

"Invisibility has always been his dream," Mickey said.

"And with that device, he'd have one that's perfectly good, not the handcrafted one that gives him his black cloak in the night."

the bug hadn't been removed, so as not to put the Phantom blot on the forewarning so that we could catch him red-handed at the appropriate time. Which, unfortunately, wouldn't be for a few months at the earliest. And to hasten the time was not even talked about it: even if it had been possible, an interview would hardly have been a sufficient reason to speed up the work.

I was already resigned to having to give up the interview when I had a dazzling idea. What if he just pretended to finish the job? A nice, exclusive benefit performance by Blot and his bugs and...

"And he'll bite for sure, because he doesn't know that we know that he knows!" exclaimed Mickey.

"Besides, if he has to act sooner than expected, he won't have the time to get his plans right, and it'll be easier to neutralize him. And there is another advantage: even if he gets away with it, he will have nothing to steal. But he won't get away with it..."

Mickey was a good man (not that it took long: all the precedents were in his favor) and so here I am, in Mousetown prison, visiting the blackest black character in the Disney world.

Who receives me in his usual cell. I'd like to describe him, but how do you tell something you can't see? The room, in fact, is in total darkness...

Interviewing an invisible subject is not the best, but taking notes in the dark is impossible...can't you turn on a light?

PB: Yes, but then you'll miss the right dark atmosphere.

Patience, I'll work on my imagination.

PB: I hope you've had enough. Anyway, I'm keeping the cloak and hood. Without them, I wouldn't be me anymore. Even the warden lets me wear them when I'm in jail. He has respect for my personality...

Me too, I assure you. You've always been my favorite negative character. The best villain. And don't get me wrong, when I say "bad"...

PB: There's no need to add anything else. I get it. On the other hand, how could you define me differently? Well, maybe instead of "bad," you could use the term "evil." I think it suits me better and is more exclusive. I'm the only one who's evil, and the comic book pages are full of villains.

And no one remotely has my class. Not to mention style, intelligence and personality.

Modesty, on the other hand, is quite common among you criminals...

PB: If you think you're funny, you're very wrong. I'm not immodest, I'm just telling it like it is. I'm not the kind of guy who's special, I'm not the kind of guy you're looking for.

That's what Floyd Gottfredson thought, too...

PB: He's designed me. You ever wonder why I made myself look so much like Walt Disney?

As a joke, if I'm not mistaken.

PB: Pff! That's the official version. The truth is, he wanted to pay tribute to a great man by making him play a great character. And who could you find better than me? Walt and I have a lot in common.

Certainly not a criminal record.

PB: Obviously not. But we're both geniuses.

With very different results, though. His career has been a little bit better than yours. Speaking of which, can you explain the long hole between your first compo, in 1939, and your return to action, in 1955? Sixteen years is a long time: what have you been doing in all that time?

PB: If you had that imagination you boasted about earlier, you wouldn't ask me such a question. It's obvious I've been in prison. Serving my long sentence and figuring out how to get revenge on the man who put me away. You should have known better. And if you're really a fan of mine, you should know that I almost succeeded. I had a diabolical plan, a revenge so subtle that only I could have imagined it. Nothing crude, no direct violence. Mickey sabotaged himself with his own hands! I hope you publish the story of my return to the scene, so that readers will also appreciate my genius.

It's the first of this volume, a real classic. You really missed nothing because you're getting rid of your enemy. In this regard, can you explain me why, even though you had several times - and since your first encounter - the possibility to eliminate Mickey directly, you never did it?

PB: Because I'm too sensitive. I hate violence and I could never get my hands dirty. I wish I could. It would be so easy to just get the rat out of the way! But instead I'm forced to make deadly contraptions or studying very complicated subjects. Imagine that once, in order to get rid of my hated enemy, I managed to erase it from the mind of every inhabitant of Mousetown. Of course, as you can gather from my presence here, it didn't help. Do you know what that crude Pete once said to me, who I often share a cell with? That without my good heart, I'd be the emperor of crime! I hate to do this, but I have to agree with him.

Yeah, if it hadn't been Mickey in his way... He's blacked you out plenty of times!

PB: Yeah ! That's some low-rent humor. Why don't you also say that it's...stained my career? I don't mind anyway, because I'm tenacious, me. I'll never give up. I know what I'm worth, and I know the day will come when I can get rid of Mickey once and for all. That is, if luck doesn't keep on helping him, of course. That nosy little chap's always got a dose to envy even Gladstone.

You're not saying that to console yourself? The way you're putting it, it sounds like Mickey doesn't deserve any credit for putting you in jail. I'll grant you that sometimes he got away with it because your sensitivity prevented you from giving him the coup de grâce, but to say that he beats you regularly just because he's lucky, seems too much.

PB: Is that what you think? Then let us examine this latest supposed success of the brilliant detective, the genius of investigators, the terror of criminals. Tsk! I was preparing a perfect score, according to a schedule studied in detail... and what happens? That those scientists realize much earlier than expected the invention that I was so interested in, thus forcing me into a hasty action that led to my arrest. Mickey was there waiting for me, but if I'd had time to make a proper plan, I'd have done it under his nose, always snooping around. Grrr! And you're telling me he's not lucky?

Well, yeah, maybe a little. I'll grant you that it's not his fault, but the case, if the microplashes you had installed at the Research Center were discovered. But he was the one who figured out you planted them and had the idea to leave them where they were so you wouldn't get suspicious. And the fact that the invention was ready before its time is not a stroke of luck, but simply... false news.

PB: What?! You made that up. I don't believe it!

And it hurts, because I know what I'm talking about. I'm the one who gave him the idea. I went to consult him to find a way to interview you... Hey! Why did you get up? You don't want to...

PB: ...hurt you? No! I hate violence, you know that. I just want to hug you to show my appreciation! You are living proof that Mickey beats me just because he is lucky. But do you realize? I ended up in jail because of an interview!

That we can continue...

PB: Ah no! Even if I'm not angry with you, I don't talk to my worst enemy's allies. It's a matter of principle... that brings us to the end. So I'd be grateful if you'd leave. And on your way out, turn off the light!

#phantom blot #the phantom blot #mickey mouse #disney #ducktales #the reporter is a sadist poor Blot...#fans like me will never rebate on him ...#But I'm happy Blot counterattack him in brilliance èwéb!

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miss-spooky-eyes · 4 years

Text

disarm me with a smile (or: Time to give Aric Jorgan an Aric Jorgasm)

So it’s been quite a while since I wrote anything and I had what you might call a very specific scenario in mind involving Aric Jorgan I wanted to write, but no suitable Trooper.

Then @sunsetofdoom very generously allowed me to borrow her Jerin, who turned out to be just what I needed and is, believe me, exactly what you need too (although you might not know it from this).

It also turned out to be Sunset’s birthday, so I really, really wanted to do a good job with her girl in order to pay tribute to Sunset, who in addition to being ridiculously talented is also unfailingly generous and magnificently filthy, a rare combination in these degenerate days, I don’t make the rules.

Happy belated birthday Sunset! and check out her Jerin content and, fuck, all her content if you haven’t already, and if you haven’t, are you even alive? no.

disarm me with a smile (Aric Jorgan/female Republic Trooper)

Jorgan just wants to get his paperwork finished, but as always when his CO has something else on her mind, there’s nothing for him to do but go down fighting

(No reports were completed during the making of this story.)

WARNINGS: filth; handjobs; ears; much fondling of ears; really an impossible amount of ear action; half-baked alien biology; femdom; risk of discovery

' - revealed an accuracy rating of 89.7%, a 0.6 improvement on last artillery exercise conducted on Tatooine (see report HV/AE/74-J). Subsequent to target elimination, squad was deployed in standard search formation covering a radius of -'

'You still at that?'

Jorgan slumped back in his chair as the words he'd painstakingly lined up in his head to complete the sentence broke ranks and dived for cover. One thing he hadn't missed about being an officer was the paperwork. 'Last one.'

He heard the slapping of her flimsy plastic sandals against the soles of her feet as she approached him, not that he needed that to tell him she'd just returned from the refresher; the smell of the ship's regulation-issue cleaning products and the herb-scented skin lotion she'd got on Alderaan had filled the air before she even stepped through the doorway. As she drew closer, he smelled clean skin, wet hair. 'Long shower,' he noted.

'CO's privilege.' She stopped behind him, and he felt the slightest vibration through the metal as she rested her fingertips on the chair back. 'Long report.'

'XO's privilege,' Aric returned dryly. He deliberately didn't turn to look at her; he knew what she usually wore when she got out of the shower - sweatpants and a sleeveless undershirt - and nothing about the sight of all that glistening green skin was going to help him finish these reports. 'You need the room?'

'Nah, you're good.' The CO's quarters came complete with a tiny antechamber designed to be used as an office, complete with chair, desk and wall-mounted terminal, all of which was generally wasted on Jerin, who preferred to write what passed for her reports on a datapad while lying on her back on the couch in the common area, long legs extended up the wall. Jorgan, on the other hand, found a stack of paperwork a nearly impossible proposition without a desk and a terminal equipped with a proper keypad, so he used the captain's office by permission; a working arrangement. One of many. 'You finish up.'

Despite her words, she didn't move away from the chair; her proximity was as difficult to ignore as the cloud of her fresh-from-the-refresher scent that still surrounded them both. Jorgan leaned forward, clearing his throat, and checked his notes.

'- 3 klicks from initial contact. Grid blocks 1-3 were covered in an average of 14 minutes, 36 seconds per block, dropping to 11 minutes 17 as terrain -'

'Kriff, you're thorough.' Jerin sounded amused, and the chair shifted slightly, as if she was now leaning on the back to look over his shoulder. 'Sure you don't want to include the ambient temperature? The phases of the moon?'

Interrupted, Aric lifted his fingers from the keyboard and glared at the terminal screen, in which he could faintly see Jerin's reflection. 'Problem with my reports, sir?'

'No, no problem.' The tone of her voice clearly hinted at an imminent 'but' and Aric waited, but after several seconds went by and she didn't speak, he figured she must have thought better of it and reached for the keyboard again -

'I'm just saying it was a routine training exercise, not the first three Xanitian Wars.'

Aric flexed his fingers, which hadn't quite touched the keys. 'So I should follow your example? What did your report to Garza after Tatooine say? "They died, we didn't. Best wishes, Captain Porter"?'

He saw a flicker of movement reflected in the terminal screen as she laughed. 'Garza said it was my best report ever.'

Mainly because Dorne wrote the one that actually got sent, and every one after that. Aric sighed. 'You going to stand there all night?'

He felt the chair shift slightly as she shrugged. 'Depends.'

'On?'

'On how long it takes you to finish your magnum opus.'

'Why? There something you want me to do afterwards?' Sufficiently distracted to turn away from the screen and twist to look back at her, Aric realised a split second later he'd done exactly what she was hoping he would, because she was smirking down at him in a very particular way, and the picture she made - bare arms braced on the back of the chair in a way that not so subtly highlighted her muscles, freshly-lotioned green skin gleaming like satin, wet hair slicked back and shining - was -

... was ...

.... was not conducive to finishing a report on Havoc Squad training exercises.

She shrugged, and he didn't need Cathar vision to notice the way her chest moved underneath that thin undershirt when she did. 'Play your cards right, Lieutenant,' she said, and the tone of her voice told Aric clearly that this battle was already lost, and the only thing left was to fight a valiant rearguard action and hope to go down with honour.

He had to swallow twice before he could say, 'Door's open.'

She didn't even glance back. 'Nobody's out there.'

There might be nobody in the common area now - for once - but anybody could wander in at any moment, could hear a noise from the captain's office, could walk curiously to the open door and see ... 'We shouldn't,' he mumbled, lowering his gaze, realizing as he said it that he sounded like some cornered ingenue in a holodrama.

'Shouldn't what?' She leaned down, resting her elbows on the back of her chair, her face just inches from his, and raised her eyebrows. 'There something you're planning to do to me, Lieutenant?'

That did it; he felt the heat, the tingle ... He turned back hastily to face the terminal, trying to hide it, although he knew it was a futile gesture.

It was; he heard her crow with delighted laughter, and saw the movement reflected in the terminal screen as she raised a hand to muffle it. 'Why, Lieutenant,' she said, lowering her hand to her chest in fake shock. 'Did I do that? Is that for me?'

He tried not to squirm in the narrow chair, tried to resist the impulse to hunch over and attempt to hide it. 'You know it is,' he growled.

'Oh, don't be shy.' He felt her fingertips graze the back of his neck, drifting upwards ... 'You know I love to see them wiggle.'

The tingling intensified, and Aric jerked irritably at her touch. Damn the woman! He'd served with COs, with entire squads who never found out what Cathar ears did when their owners got embarrassed. But two days on the same ship with this Coruscant back-slum loud-mouth and she'd spotted it ... and never forgotten about it.

It was ridiculous. He'd long ago gotten used to the idea that non-furred humanoids like humans and Mirialans had a tendency to find the physiology of furred species like his own ... intriguing; that they had a regrettable habit of finding perfectly normal behaviours and responses cute, even of comparing them to those exhibited by their domesticated animals. On the whole, he thought Cathar came off better than Bothans and Wookies, and anybody who had ever made jokes in his presence about scratching posts and hairballs had quickly seen, or rather been shown, the error of their ways.

But if Jerin was better at something than noticing things you'd rather she didn't, it was making you like her so much you didn't mind. She disarmed people as easily as she did bombs.

Even Garza. Even Fuse. Even Dorne.

Her fingertips were still just touching the back of his neck, just below the base of his skull, just resting there as if she'd forgotten about them.

Even him.

He could still feel her delighted gaze on his twitching ears. He sat up straight, resisting the urge to tilt his head and brush each ear against his shoulder to stop the tingling. Personally he didn't see what the big deal was; at least ears that wriggled slightly as a social signifier were subtle, not like furless faces that bloomed with blood. He cleared his throat in what he hoped was a dignified fashion. 'I'd better finish this report.'

'Mmmm, yeah, you'd better.' She was still leaning on her elbows on the back of the chair, a casual pose; anyone who looked in through the doorway would think that she was just reading the terminal screen over his shoulder, perhaps offering him some constructive advice on his report, like a good CO.

Anyone who looked in through the doorway wouldn't see the fingers still positioned at the back of his neck, the tips just grazing the fur as he breathed.

'Wouldn't want to waste the whole night on it, after all,' she added.

Concentrate. Aric squared his shoulders, extended his arms, positioned his own fingers above the keyboard.

'- terrain became smoother -'

'Smoother' was a dangerous word right now; he highlighted and deleted.

'- more easily navigable by patrols on foot.'

Garza, or whoever would be reading this, knew that they would have been on foot.

He was almost sure that Jerin's fingertips were higher up his neck than they had been before.

He highlighted and deleted.

'- as terrain became less rocky. After approximately forty-nine minutes, squad Besh -'

'You sure it was forty-nine? Not forty-eight? Not fifty-one?' Jerin punctuated each number with a touch, her index and middle fingers walking slowly across his neck towards his right ear. 'Did we synchronise chronometers?'

'We did.' He cleared his throat again, trying unsuccessfully to smooth the roughness from it as her fingers continued their deliberate progress. 'I covered that already.'

'You did? Where?' She straightened up, leaning further over the back of the chair to see the monitor screen better, and the curve of her breast not-so-accidentally grazed his cheek, and he knew that she could feel his pulse jump through his fur where her fingertips had come to rest just below his ear.

'Right there,' he said, working to keep his tone even. He pointed at the relevant words on the screen.

'My mistake.' She leaned back, with another oh-so-accidental brush of her breast against his neck. 'Carry on, soldier.'

Right. Reports. Training exercises. Aric blinked and refocused on the screen, trying to remember what he'd been going to write.

'- squad Besh reported signs of enemy passage, bearing 213.75 degrees.'

Her fingers were still resting just below his ear, behind the angle of his jaw, drifting in the tiniest of circles over the tips of his fur as they both breathed.

'Squad Aurek, designated C&C for this exercise, analysed topographical data and recomended -'

'You missed an "m" there,' Jerin pointed out, bringing her hand up to point at the screen.

The backs of her fingers just brushed the rim of his ear as she did so, and he jolted in his chair, twisting involuntarily to look back and up at her.

She met his glare with eyes of melting innocence. 'Something wrong?'

For a second, he let himself picture himself reaching up, grabbing a handful of her undershirt and twisting to pull her down to his level, a kiss so hard they'd both break away gasping for breath; the darkening skin on her face and neck as the blood started to pound, her lips swollen, eyes bright ...

He'd be damned if he let her win that easily. 'No, sir.' He turned back to face the terminal.

'Better carry on with your report then, Lieutenant.' Her hands brushed lightly along both of his shoulders, idly picking off a piece of lint here, deftly adjusting his collar there. 'We don't have all night.'

He squared his jaw and reached for the keyboard again.

Her hands rested softly one on each shoulder, and he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin material of his shirt. 'Or maybe we do.'

Aric highlighted, deleted, typed: '- recommended both squads circle round to intercept the enemy on their projected path -'

A finger trailed up the right side of his neck.

'- at canyon mouth designated Choke Point One -'

Despite himself, his fingers faltered on the keys as the questing finger approached the place where it had rested before, and he breathed in as it trailed towards his ear. But it swerved away before it reached the lobe, instead continuing on its slow path upwards, following the curve of his ear without touching it, up and over and down towards his cheek.

'- located at coordinates -'

The fingertip reversed its course, following the same path back, the softest skim against his fur as she traced the shape of his ear without touching it. All the way back down to just below the lobe and then up again.

Coordinates. He had them written down. In his notes. Somewhere. He reached blindly for his datapad.

As Jerin's finger trailed up and down, it left a line of tingling warmth in its wake, and his ear ... She hadn't even touched his ear and already it was warm, throbbing in a distant yet urgent tandem with the beating of his heart.

The problem, he thought dizzily as he paged unseeing through his notes, was evolution. Cathar ears didn't just signal embarrassment; they registered and communicated all different types of emotions and social cues. Much of what humans and many other humanoids communicated through their mouths - smiles, frowns, smirks, winces - was in a Cathar visible instead in tiny shifts and motions to which other species tended to be oblivious. And all of that subtle movement required many, many tiny muscles ... a tracery of many, many infinitesimal blood vessels to fill and throb ... hundreds upon thousands of nerve endings.

Well, that was one problem. The other was that the woman standing behind him was pure evil.

She would have to touch his ear soon, if only by accident. She would have to ...

Then he felt the lightest stroke across the lobe of his other ear, and jerked, caught completely off guard. The datapad clattered to the desk.

Pure. Damn. Evil.

'Better pick that up,' she suggested helpfully, her fingertip stroking across his earlobe again.

Automatically, with fingers that felt like they no longer belonged to him, he picked up the datapad again.

'You were looking up coordinates,' she prompted him.

Coordinates. He made an effort, focused, resolving the blur of shapes to green text on a black background. Numbers. He was looking for numbers.

Then both those fingertips stroked as one up the outside of both ears, and everything blurred again.

'Lieutenant?'

They followed the curves and indentations up to the point of his ears, and then down.

'Seems like you've stopped writing, Lieutenant.'

And then they slipped as one just half a centimeter inside, and started to climb again, this time tracing the inner surface of that soft ridge, up and over and down again.

He arched in his chair as she stroked him, the lightest, most abominably teasing brush of skin against fur, and the thought that came to mind was: It wasn't fair. It really, truly wasn't right that a woman of her size and strength, who threw punches the way other people threw grenades, should have hands like this.

Bomb-defusing hands. That's where this all started; that grimy Port Raga hellhole, the senator whining in his chair, the air thick with sirens and smoke and Jerin's hands, disconnecting sensors, rewiring gauges, as if there was all the time in the world. He'd watched, mesmerised, as she delicately picked apart the instruments of fiery death, and despite being one touch too heavy or too lingering away from the kind of pointless end he'd always hoped against hope he would avoid, all he could think about was those same fingers, grease-blackened, smelling of acrid smoke, on him.

After that it had been just a matter of time before she found him in the armoury one day and gave him what no shame could stop him from wanting, peeling away his armour piece by piece until she could run her hands all over his bare torso, touching and caressing him until he was panting, open-mouthed, then spinning him around and pinning him to the wall, grinding her hips against his from behind with such unmistakable promise that he came just like that, came inside his pants, without her ever even laying a finger on him below the waist.

'You'll never make captain at this rate, Lieutenant.'

She was using her thumbs now, a delicate pressure against the back of his earlobes as those fingers stroked again and again around the rim of his ear, each time lingering a little longer, straying a little further towards the inner folds and ridges.

Because she knew, knew what nobody else had ever looked at him and seen, what he'd rather die than let Dorne or Vik or any of the rest of them see; that day in, day out, he wore thirty-five kilos of reinforced durasteel, and underneath it what he really wanted was to be ... touched. Not to fuck, or even to be fucked, although both had their place. To be touched. Caressed. Stroked.

Petted.

Fingertips were circling the inner ridges of his ears now. He arched again, pressing his head back against her, no longer caring if she saw how much she was affecting him. She'd known from the beginning. From before the start.

The chair legs squealed on the floor, metal against metal, as he nudged it backwards, away from the desk. Creating space, so she could reach down and ...

Not that she would, unless and until he asked for it.

'Giving up already?' The question was a taunt, breathed out against one ear, stirring the fine hairs inside. Aric shuddered, fingers flexing and kneading at empty air, as he felt her move behind him to whisper the next question across the burning membranes of the other ear. 'On your reports, that is?'

The wet flick of her tongue across his earlobe.

'What happened to being thorough, Lieutenant?'

The softest tug of teeth.

'Unless there's something you care about more?'

His hand twitched involuntarily up towards hers before he could stop it. Her laugh stirred every strand of fur across his ear, made them sing.

'Better undo those pants before you make a mess of them.

Fumbling with numb fingers, he unfastened, yanked his pants open, hissing underneath his breath as his dick sprang free, hard and twitching and exposed.

She switched sides again, fondling fingers replacing lips and breath on his right ear, tongue snaking up and around and into his right.

Aric's dick throbbed, a pulse so powerful it was almost painful. His hand twitched upwards again -

Footsteps.

They froze as one, listening.

Someone was walking into the common area; Yuun or Dorne, he thought, or maybe even Vik; the big Weequay moved with a softness that belied his size, and it was hard to tell through the pounding of blood in his tortured ears.

The door was open. He tried to think, through the throbbing and the pounding and the tickle of breath stirring the fur on his ear. If whoever it was was just passing through the common area to get from one side of the ship to the other, they would have no reason to look through the open doorway, or at least would only take a casual glance that would reveal little but the captain's back.

If they were there to grab a snack, though, or to slump in the seating area that was just outside the door ...

He might be the one with his dick out, but she had more to lose, they both understood that; a blind eye might be turned to a CO sleeping with their subordinate as long as a certain level of discretion was observed, but this would hardly be considered discreet by any standards, let alone General Garza's. If whoever was out there saw. If they chose to report.

Even if they didn't report ... they'd know.

The footsteps grew a little louder, paused, as if whoever it was had stopped by the battered table, maybe to inspect a datapad left lying there, trying to decide whether the latest holodrama was worth sitting down and watching.

She was the CO. She would be the one to lose her command. And yet this was part of the equation for her, in a way he didn't quite understand. The open door was for her, not him; he felt no thrill from the possibility of discovery; there was nothing more likely to make his hard-on shrivel up and disappear than the thought of Tanno Vik, for example, knowing anything, ever, about what he and the captain did.

Jerin, though. He didn't understand why, but he understood that she was playing with the fears at the ragged fringe of her existence, playing with the possibility of it all unravelling, as much as she was playing with him.

Pathetically, that knowledge almost made him jealous.

Pressed together like this, his head flush against her chest, he could almost feel her heart beating, hear her trying not to breathe. He listened with her to the soft thunk as whoever it was put something down on the table, listened to the noises as they walked across the common area to the door on the other side, listened to the footsteps receding down the hall until they died away.

The captain let out the breath she'd been holding, and he could almost swear he felt each individual strand of fur shiver as it passed.

'Where were we?' The whisper was hot against the nape of his neck as she moved her head back from his left side to his right. He felt her lips fasten delicately around the crest of his ear, forming a tight, wet seal, and the touch of her tongue as it toyed with the pointed tip.

Damn dignity, kriff going down fighting, he couldn't take it any more. His hand seized hers and wrenched it downwards.

The softness of her breasts surrounded his head and neck as his grip on her hand yanked her forward, but neither they nor the drumming of the blood in his ears could muffle the little satisfied snicker she gave as he slapped her hand against his shaft and wrapped their fingers around it.

One thing he could say for his captain; she was merciful, once the conquest was complete. He let his hand fall away as hers began to move, firm strokes, her grip hot and hard and a little too dry, smoothing his fur on the downstroke only to rough it up once more. He'd given in, accepted defeat, and now all he had to do was wait in blind, throbbing anticipation for her to end it. He turned his head, nuzzling into her breasts, reaching back blindly for a handful of ass, thigh, anything he could dig his fingers into and squeeze as she worked him, worked him, worked him.

Jerin shifted her weight, brought her other hand around, enfolding him more tightly as she took hold of him with both hands, one circling tightly at the base of his shaft while the other twisted and stroked near the head. That's all it took, a few breathless, straining seconds of her hands on him and then everything that had been gathering in him ignited in white fire and he found himself thrusting wildly, desperately, as best as he could up into her fist.

She knew to release her grip on his shaft as the barbs sprang up, the teeth that were supposed to lock him into place within his mate until he was done spilling his seed, and her freed hand came up to stroke his face, cradling it against her breast as her other hand coaxed everything from him, circling and twisting to catch the pearly strands until he was spent, left trembling and boneless and clinging against her.

She stroked his face gently, murmuring things he registered only as waves of tenderness breaking against his twitching ears, as she brought her hand up in front of his face, his cum striping her green skin.

And without needing to be told, Aric bent his head to her hand and began to lick it clean, a purr rising from deep within his chest.

#swtor #fic #I wrote a thing #aric jorgan is also here #aric jorgan #sergeant grumpy cat #earogenous zones #I'm sorry

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

LOST TIME (part 3 of 3) A fantasy of Flocking Bay.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

LOST TIME

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5556 words

written 2003

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

///////////////////////

Her hands skimmed lightly over the inlaid table tops and felt the textures of the brocaded silk upholstery. Her eyes took in the carvings and inlays on the furniture and the hand carved moldings, unique to each room. She drifted from chamber to chamber as delicately as a ghost, and as silently. Her camera hung from her neck by its strap, forgotten. She was as taken as I had been by the nature of the beauty here. Her head tilted slightly at times, as though she was listening to something that I could not hear.

Somehow, the library managed to survive all of the changes of ownership apparently intact. Some of it was actually written on scrolls. The other books were mostly quite old. It would not have surprised me to find that some of them were medieval manuscripts or perhaps translations of something older yet. I had not had the time to look at them beyond the merest glance.

If I had even the slightest idea of where to begin, I had no doubt of my ability to read it. I have never yet found a written language from Europe, Asia, or Africa that I could not read and write as well as speak fluently. As I told Lois, part of my income comes from helping archaeologists to make out old texts and inscriptions.

Lois spent a lot of time in the library. She stood with that listening aspect for a short bit, then she pulled a book from the shelves as though she knew exactly what she was looking for. She set the book on an old-fashioned reading stand and opened it with that small amount of leafing that indicates complete familiarity with the contents. She read for a few pages, sometimes more or less, then replaced the book. Then she went on to the next. She spent several hours in this pursuit, finally looking up, eyes bright.

“Vandervekken, are you as hungry as I’ve gotten to be?”

“Now that you mention it, yes,” I replied.

Lois led the way to the kitchen, and held the door for me, looking as pleased as a conjurer who has just performed a clever illusion. The table was set for two. There was a selection of cold cuts, a woven loaf of bread to pull apart, melted butter to dip it in, a bowl of salad with a cruet of dressing and a bottle of wine just cool enough to sweat.

“Was it you that set up the food and got things done for me?” I asked, slightly floored by the thought.

“No . . . though I did choose this menu. I hope that you like it. I really can’t tell you very much more yet. Now, let’s eat.”

“Not until you tell me one thing,” I stated. “You were with me all the time, so how did you do this?” I gestured at the table set with food.

“I didn’t. The house did it,” she replied. “I just suggested the menu. Now, please let’s eat first. I have found out a few things out that I don’t understand. I’ll tell you what I can after we eat.”

Dinner passed quickly. The food was excellent but the atmosphere was a bit strained. I was feeling puzzled, more than a bit jealous, envious of Lois’ apparent knowledge. I did compliment the food but my attempts at small talk all fell flat due to my own mood.

As we cleared away the dishes, I asked in a brooding voice, “What can you tell me, now, that you couldn’t before?”

Lois looked a bit hurt, which made me instantly contrite. I hastened to add, “I didn’t mean that tone of voice. I really do want to know.”

“I really don’t know much. Capt. Vekin appears to have been involved in some sort of sorcery. He made the house to look after him. It’s sort of alive. It is trying to communicate with me so that I can talk to you. I can almost hear it but not quite like a voice.

“It gives me hunches. That’s how it guided me to those books in the library. If I understand any of what I have learned, the house likes you and will provide for you. It wants to reach you desperately, but something is blocking it. It can only reach your feelings.

“Anyhow, all I am sure of is that the floors are terribly important. We already agree that painting them over was a crime.”

“Why can’t the house undo the painting, then? The same way that it fixed the rusty fence or the yard?”

“I don’t know why. I did find out that it can fix what happens to it, but not what is done to it. I guess that intent is the key. Rust happens, termites happen, the yard grows, it will take care those things itself. The floor painting was done deliberately. I guess that’s the difference. We have to undo it.”

“WE . . .” that almost stopped me in my tracks. After a moment, I asked cautiously, “What do you mean, exactly?”

Lois seemed almost scared as she answered, “I know that you’ve been a loner since your memory loss . . . I’ve been a loner, too. This afternoon . . . I got sort of attached. I had a hunch about . . . I like both you and this house. The house seems to want me to help you. More important, I want to be with you . . . if you’ll let me.”

I felt like I had been hit on the head with a sandbag. After a bit, I got my breath back enough to say, “Gaea! Yes! Let’s start on those floors and see what happens.”

“It may not be easy to do, you know,” she replied, relieved.

“Let’s take Lilitu back to town to get paint stripping stuff and tools!” I enthused.

“Flocking Bay rolled up it’s sidewalks at 9:00,” she said tartly. Then added, “I have a heat gun for paint stripping and shrink wrapping back at the Voice. We could try that and a scraper.”

“You’re a wonder!” I cried, hugging her impulsively. To my surprise, she hugged back, and kissed me. I kissed back. All in all, it was about ten or fifteen minutes before we went to get the paint stripping gun and scraper.

We started in the front hall, just at the door. Lois was indeed right. It was not a simple thing to do. Oh, the mechanics were simple enough. All that we did was apply heat to a few square inches until the paint started to lift and bubble, then scrape it off. The problem was simple. It would not scrape off at all if Lois tried it.

Only I could actually remove the paint. The moment that the heat from the gun hit the paint my head began to hurt like it was on fire. Scraping the paint away felt like having a blood clotted bandage ripped slowly off of a still unhealed wound. I could not have done it alone. It was an agony even with Lois’ support, hugs and sympathy.

The first of the patterns that we revealed was one of knots, rivaling the finest Celtic work. When I tried to trace the lines it was almost impossible. They writhed in and out in the most peculiar way. The part that I was tracing was always in focus, but the intersecting lines could not be held in focus or even in view.

Trying to unravel the one small knot that we uncovered gave me even more of a headache until, instead of trying to trace it, I looked at it as a whole. Suddenly, the pain stopped. In it’s place was a memory. “Ebla,” I said in wonder, “how could I have forgotten you, Empire of Roads and Trade?”

“Ebla?” asked Lois. “What is Ebla?”

“Ebla was a smallish city just to the south of Asia Minor. We now call it Turkey. The kings of Ebla collected tribute from Ur, Babylon, Egypt, the Indus valley, Jericho and the many cities of Canaan. Even the wild Sythians paid them. They were wealthy. They had little land of their own, and never attacked their neighbors.

“Ebla did not rule by fighting wars. They built roads and trade routes. Ebla paid the mercenaries who protected the trade from bandits. If someone did not pay their tribute, Ebla closed the roads, routing the vital trade around them until they gave in.

“Ebla collected tolls for the use of the roads. They shared the money with the kingdoms that their roads crossed. Often a kingdom's share of the tolls was greater than the tribute that they paid.

“After more than a thousand years of peaceful trade, greedy kings and merchants sacked Ebla. The poor fools never quite understood why the bandits suddenly flourished and the trade upon which they depended for a thousand years died. Ebla was destroyed more than 3,500 years ago.”

Lois said quietly, “I never even heard of them before. Where did you learn of them?”

“I lived there. They called me Lord Wanderer. I built their first roads and helped to set the policies that kept the peace and created the trade.

“You are right. We have to go on. The rest of my life is under this paint. My memory, my sorcery. The length of my life is not an accident. The one greatest good that came from losing my memory is a thing that I just learned. I can share my life, if you will be the one to walk the halls of time with me.”

“Where you go,” said Lois quietly, putting her hands into mine and looking into my eyes, “there I will go also.”

Startled, I said, “Lois, did you know that ancient Roman women used to say that when they got married?”

She flashed me smile and replied, “I had a more than a hunch that they did. It was in one of those books that our house showed me.”

-THE END-

<==Previous

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#LOST TIME #Part 3 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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buttdawg · 4 years

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On my way to work this morning, I listened to a F4WO video about how this week's Raw had the worst-ever rating in its history, beating out the previous record, all the way back in... last Monday, because holy fuck Raw is doing really shitty in the ratings this year.

The big problem, according to Big Dave, is that they tried to book Extreme Rules to get people to tune in on Monday, and it did not work. At all. And even if a PPV can't help the ratings, what will? And what happens when they're going head to head with the NBA? And even if they could get the ratings up a bit, they would still be in trouble, because that's how bad the current ratings are. It's like being in the bottom of a 12-ft pool and doing everything you can to swim a few inches higher.

Dave's like "I don't know how you turn this around," and I see his point, because even if WWE created a new star or started a hot new angle, how would anyone find out about it? There's no live crowd, and there's fewer people watching on TV now than ever before. It's like how Impact ran all these crazy angles and signed all these big stars and the needle barely moved. What should they do?

I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter, because even if they had the answer in front of them, Vince wouldn't go for it because that's how out of touch and incompetent he is now. He seemed to think this "Rey loses an eye" thing was the answer, even though a) it wasn't and b) he couldn't even follow through with it, so why would anyone else have been impressed? Vince McMahon Is The Problem, and as long as he's still around the problem only gets worse from here. And even if he went away, that doesn't undo the damage.

Still, I thought about it, and imagined what I'd come up with if they asked me how to fix things. I'm probably not even remotely qualified to save a tanking wrestling show, but here's what I came up with:

1. Vince McMahon retires as publically and as transparently as possible.

Basically, there's only one star left from the Attitude Era, and it's Vince. And there's only one message WWE can send that will matter to lapsed fans, and that's "No more Vince." And Vince resigning would actually get some mainstream attention. Remember when his limo exploded on TV and people thought it was real? Remember when he sold Raw to Donald Trump and people thought that was real?

So use it, not as an angle, but acknowledge it on TV, the way they made a big deal about Undertaker retiring. I don't mean a big Vince Tribute Show. That's the last thing we need, but don't keep it a secret. The word on Raw is that Vince is done, and no one knows what happens next. In the real world, Vince should remove himself from WWE business as completely as possible, and this needs to be done in a way where it's very, very provable to skeptics. They need to show a paper trail that Vince really isn't in charge of this anymore and never will be again. I don't care who takes over when he's gone. Triple H, Stephanie, Bruce Prichard, whoever. But Vince is truly stepping away. That needs to be the message and they need to follow through on it. Then people will at least consider checking out Raw to see what happens to it.

2. Build a fucking babyface and book him strong.

This is something Vince hasn't been able to do since Cena's heyday, so committing to this would convince curious fans that it's not just the same old shit. Pick a guy and fucking stick with him as long as possible. Drew McIntyre seems like a proper choice. If he gets into some scandal and they have to get rid of him, then okay, but immediately set up someone else. Don't screw around deciding, like they did with Roman Reigns. Pick a babyface superhero and go. Have him destroy Brock Lesnar, not just upset him in a four minute match. Have him face the Fiend in one of those bullshit "Cinematic Matches", but he turns the tables on him and wins. Have him beat Big Show in a retirement match. Have him beat Triple H in a retirement match. Maybe save Randy Orton for a later guy.

3. Steal a page from AEW's playbook and never do DQ or countouts.

Every. Fucking. Match. Ends with a pin or submission. Every. One. Don't even do cage matches or ladder matches for the next year or so, or any other gimmick where there's a screwy way to win.

Seriously, what always captured my fancy about ECW was the implication that DQ's and countouts were impossible because every match was hardcore. I didn't want to see hardcore matches all the time, I just wanted to see someone win without a lot of horseshit. AEW achieves the same result sinply by not booking DQ's in the first place. WWE desperately, des-per-ate-ly needs to prove that they get it: There's no point watching a wrestling match where no one wins.

4. Make a cool-ass heel stable with cool-ass merch.

Note that this does NOT mean bringing back DX or the nWo, or signing ex-Bullet Club members in the hopes of reverse-engineering whatever makes BC work. They need to make a NEW thing, because they need to prove that they can. Down the road, if Kevin Nash wants to manage a new nWo squad, that might be a decent idea, but first they need to prove that they can make it work without a nostalgia pop. The Inner Circle proved it can still be done, and Bullet Club is still going strong a decade later, so we know there's a way to keep these things going. But don't just chase a nostalgia pop. The original nWo sure as hell didn't.

5. Trim down the roster to guys you actually plan to use. I saw Eric Young saying that Raw was a "broken show" because it's 3 hours long and yet they couldn't find five minutes for him to be on it. He's right, they should have either made him a fixture on Raw or they never should have hired him in the first place. WWE's goal should have been to hire guys that would make Raw better, but instead they hired guys to keep other people from using them on other shows. And maybe that was a smart business move, but it also took their eye off the ball. They were so focused on spiting their competition that they failed to notice their own show sucks ass. Nobody needed all that talent to compete in 2019 because Raw sets the bar so low. No disrespect to Eric Young, but AEW managed without him, and WWE is crumbling whether they have Eric Young or not.

6. Don't bother with talent raids.

In the 90's, WWE could get guys from WCW to jump ship and make waves. Someone probably thinks that could work today, and maybe it could, but that shouldn't be an end unto itself. WWE already has a big, talented roster. They need to prove that they know how to use it. Right now, the only reason I see for a wrester to sign with WWE is for the money. That's great for the wrestlers, but it doesn't do me any good as a consumer. If they pay a guy a shit ton of money and he barely gets used on TV, it only makes the promotion look dumb.

Instead, they need to prove that a guy like Drew McIntyre made the right call by signing on. Book him in a way where other talent will see hin succeed and decide they'd like a piece of that pie.

That's all I got right now. Maybe none of this would work, but it sounds good to me, anyway.

#wwe

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gallaghercest · 5 years

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If I Had A Gun Lyric Analysis by Anon

“I literally couldn't understand why people constantly dismiss the Subjective Mood in IIHAG which obviously indicates that the song is about a fantasy, a dream that could never come true and something impossible to happen in reality. The narrator (himself) knew it too faint to make it hence writes the line ‘Give you back A Dream, show you now what might've been.’ It's like he had made a promise to someone that they would stay with each other forever but unfortunately he failed this person and hehad to give the dream back.

The next several lines is the content of the dream.

1) ‘For the tears you cried would fade away.’ Comrades! This is an outspoken regret that if they stick to each other, the person wouldn't shed tears no more but it turned out the opposite so it means a goodbye between these two.

2)‘I'll be by your side when they come and say goodbye/ We will live to fight another day.’ If you go though the songs from early Oasis days to HFB era you'll discover there're at least 4 songs that contain the line ‘live to fight another day/fight to live another day.’ namely, Lock All The Doors (1992 version), My Sister Lover, A Simple Game Of Genius and IIHAG, so undoubtedly these are about the same one that've accompanied Noel from 1992 to 2009, and yes, how could that be Sara?

3) In the early 90s Noel commented like ‘Liam is the only monkey that I'll ever need’ to which ‘Cause you're the only god that I'll ever need’ pay a proper tribute. And Noel also made some amendments to the song , change the ‘I'm waiting for the night is gone and you're my lead, It's all my sin’ line to the one heard by all of us today”

Received that in my ask box and I couldn’t help but post it here. Hats off to the best IIHAG analysis. To the one who sent it to me: You are brilliant. But you probably already knew that. I even believe that you are Noel himself. If you want me to accurately credit you, just hit me up with your username, ok? You deserve this.

(P.S: I always thought that in the demo, he sang “It’s all I see”, and not “It’s all my sin”. My life is changed now.)

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moonlightobrien · 5 years

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The Worst Day - Stallison {THG}

Word Count; 4184

Warnings: swearing, semi violence (I guess.)

Characters: allison argent/stiles stilinski.

Authors Note: ohmygod! i finally finally finished the first chapter, it took me the entire day to finish this chapter. One day, and 9 hours to be exact haha. This chapter/series is dedicated to @obrjens, @mischiefandi, and every stallison stans that are out there. I’m beyond happy that this is finally written and planned out. More chapters are coming, I don’t know when the next chapter will be since I am busy with work, and editing. But, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and get some stallison feels while you are at it!

Allison’s POV

District 15.

The district of landscaping, where my people including my sister, my mom and I have to work our asses off to even get some food in our systems. Panem is divided into 15 districts, I’ve heard stories of District 13 being the ‘unknown district’ but I’ve never fully went in depth with these stories. Sometimes, I would cross over to District 14 to see different scenery instead of my own. But, today was a different day for me and the rest of the districts. It was hunger games day, the worst day of every year, where one tribute from each district is chosen to be in the hunger games until one is standing, hearing about the fallen tributes makes me sick to my stomach, my heart aches for the fallen tributes and their parents. No one deserves to be living like this, how can anyone live like this. Thinking about the hunger games, and how close the bell for the tributes to go to the Hall of Justice building terrifies me. Especially, for my family.

Caesar Fickerman, and the gamemaster himself Seneca Crane was doing a interview on how he was going to corrupt this year Hunger Games, and how this year is going to be different than the last games. “I think it’s our tradition, it comes out of a particularity painful part of our history,”

“Yes,” Caesar agreed. “But, it’s been a way we’ve been able to heal, at first it was a reminder of the rebellion, it was a price of the districts had to pay, but I think it has grown all from that, netting us all together.”

“This is your third year’s game, what defines your personal situation?”

“NO, NO,” Nicole screamed in horror, her body wrapped into my chest, and arms. “It’s okay, you were dreaming, you were dreaming,” I tried to calm her down, as I can feel her heart increase rapidly, “It was me,” Her soft cries breaks my heart, “I know, there are so many names in there, Nicole, they are not going to pick you.” Nicole whispers in my ear, which I already know what she wants me to do. Our father died in a mining accident, but when I was younger, he would sing me this song that stuck in my memory forever, I deeply deeply miss him. “Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass as soft green pillow.” Nicole and I both sang in unison.

“You remember that song, you finish it for me. I have to go.”

“Where?” Nicole curiously asked, “I just have to go, but I will be back. Love you.” I walked downstairs, wrapping my jacket around my shoulders as I can hear the cat hissing at me that Nicole found, “I still cook you,” Then, I left. My legs starts to pick up some speed, as my amber eyes starts looking around the scenery, the people, how we have to live like we are slaves. Other districts thinks this is a paradise since we are the district of landscaping, but this is definitely not paradise. My body went under the barbed wire as my feet took me to my favorite place; the woods. The woods is the most peaceful place where I can escape my thoughts about the horrifying hunger games.

I grab my bow and arrow, searching for something eatable for my family to have for dinner. I spot a deer five miles away from me, I began to pull my arrow towards my cheek, aiming correctly to shoot until the deer figured out what I was about to do, and sprint away. My feet started to follow his movements really quickly, I start to ravel some leaves in my palms crunching them letting the crumbled leaves flow in the wind, as well as grabbing a small rock popping it off my bow making the deer flee, I start to follow the deer again, this time, I got a really good aim on it; I start to pull my arrow back. “What are you going to do with that when you kill it?” Shit, I missed. “Damn you, Kira. It’s not funny.” Kira and I have been best friends since childhood, our mothers knew each other back when things in Panem was normal. “What are you going to do with a 100 pound deer, Alls.” Kira laughed. “I was going to sell it to a Peacemaker, and at least get some money out of it, since this place can’t even afford a dime to get some food in our stomachs.” The thought of food made her stomach growl begging for something to eat. “I wouldn’t sell anything to those assholes, especially since the games are coming up,” I roll my eyes, but at the same time Kira is right about those peacekeepers being assholes, our president is a evil, cruel son of a bitch. “Like, you don’t sell to any peacekeepers,” My eyes scan to Kira’s bag seeing that she had her kitsune sword, instead of her bow and arrow that gave her for her 16th birthday, I wish that Panem was back to the way it was before, yet I realized that it was never normal, it was always the same. “No, not today, did I mentioned that the hunger games were today.” I chuckled, “Well, it was the first deer I saw in a year, at least I would’ve had something for dinner, but someone had to ruin my plans.”

“You’re welcome,” A smirk slowly started to appear on her face, she grabbed a rock throwing it in the air, birds started to scatter flying upward, I start to pull my arrow near my cheek realising my arrow quickly hitting one of the birds, and laughed. “Let’s go to our favorite spot,” Kira spoked, giving me a smile. Kira and I start walking towards our favorite spot where it was a view of the mountains, Kira spotted it when we were eight years old, sometimes I would go there at night just to clear my head from everything, mostly my thoughts; how my thoughts can take over me, making me terrified of what the outcomes will be. “What if they stopped watching? It’s disgusting, watching and rooting for our favorite tributes; I can only imagine what their parents feel, seeing their kids in that area. Absolutely, cruel.”

“They won’t, Kira. You know how our president is. A absolute shithead. Sometimes, I wonder if or when our lives will be back to ours, instead of being in the hands of someone who doesn’t give a fuck about us,” Kira can hear the anger in my voice, she knows how much I hate the Capital, how much I want to destroy everyone, and everything in that place including the President. “We could do it, you know? Take off in the mountains, go somewhere else where we don’t have to deal with any of this.”

“They’re catch us, cut off our tongues, make us sit on electric chairs, or worse. I can’t even think of worse. We wouldn’t even make it five miles from here.” Kira ignored that comment, she was always the hopeful one, which I’m glad that I have as a best friend, I need some hope in my life. “No, we will get five miles, I will go that way.” She points near the mountains view, my brain actually started to put that into consideration, but it was a long shot, very impossible. “I have Nicole, and you have your sisters.”

“They can come with us,” Kira replied. “Nicole in the woods?” I replied back with sarcasm in my voice. “You’re probably right, oh my god. I almost forget,” She pulls out a little loaf of bread, my stomach instantly begged for it, “Oh my god, is this real?” My fingers immediately grabs it, I put it up to my nostrils smelling that delicious flavor of yeast and dough, it smelled so good. “It better be, it cost me a squirrel.” I ripped off a piece for her, so we can both savor it; most of the time, it’s either hunting or no food for the day which is usually the case, those are the worst days; even the littlest bits of food is worth it. “Happy Hunger Games,” Kira mocked, “And, may the odds be in your favor,” We love mocking the Capital, at least it will give us some laughter; Panem is very depressing, so a little bit of laughter makes me somewhat happier than I was before. “How many times is your name been drawn?” I asked, praying to god that it is none. “35, I guess the odds are not in my favor,” I look at her with saddened eyes, Kira is like a sister to me, and the thought of her entering the area makes my heart drop into my stomach, I can’t bear to lose another person in my life. Especially, her. “I better get going, Nicole is waiting on me, and I have to get ready for the Reaping, see you there.”

“See you there.”

The Reaping; where all the tributes from their districts all sign in, and get lined up in front of the Hall of Justice to see if their name was drawn to be forced into the Hunger Games. Some of the kids that I went to school with died in that area, and some survived. More died than others survived. It devastates me seeing little kids like Nicole’s age go into something so real, and so dangerous without proper skill training, the anger I feel everytime I see our president, it boils me to the core, makes me feel like I am on fire, and it’s scorching high nonstop. Before, I go home, I decided to go over to the Black Market to trade off something for a bag of marbles, we don’t really have that many toys or items to keep us occupied, “Here you go, girl.” My eyes scan over to this golden pin that is so beautiful, “What’s this?” I questioned. “It’s a mockingjay pin,”

“How much?”

“You keep it,” Usually, I have to buy or sometimes, beg for items for my family, which sucks but I have to do it in order to survive, “Thank you,” Then, I left heading back home.

“Mom?” Nicole always felt like our mom didn’t pay enough attention to her, it was only me. She turns around facing Nicole, “Oh, look at you. You look beautiful, better tuck in that tail, little duck.” Nicole smiled at my complaint, but I know she still feels like a outcast ever since Dad died. “I fix something for you too,” My mother spoked, her voice was breaking; she is still grieving my father, “Okay,” I replied back with a smile towards Nicole, going upstairs to take a quick bath.

I start scrubbing my toes feeling the hot water on my skin making me warm since there were months where we didn’t get any heat, and we rely on blankets to keep us from frostbite. I lift the bucket dumping the water on my face, making me wake up; focused on what is about to happen. Preparing me for the consequences and the fear of everything that is about to come. I step out of the bath bucket, walking over to my room seeing a light blue dress on my bed. My fingers eagerly grabs the dress pulling it over my body, looking at myself in the mirror until my mother comes in, putting my hair into a long braid, “Now, you look beautiful too.”

“I wish I looked like you,” Nicole said from behind, my mom had this hurt look on her face, she knows that it kills her seeing Nicole being very insecure, “Aw, no. I wish I was like you, little duck.” Then, the most terrifying sound that rattles my ears was the bell, Nicole knew what that meant. “Hey, do I want to see what I got you today?” I show her a golden pin with a bird on it, it was absolutely gorgeous in her eyes, and she smiled brightly. “It’s a mockingjay pin to protect you, as long as you hold on to it, nothing bad will ever happened to you.” I instantly pull her into a hug, our bodies colliding into each other, I can feel tears welling up into my eyes, this is the last time I’m going to see her, I have no idea what is going to happen, but I have to be strong, I have to be brave, even though right now I am scared to death.

It’s time, all of the families hug their children for the last time if they ever going to see them again; all the girls and boys hold hands with their sisters and brothers heading over to Hall of Justice, Nicole, my mother, and I started to head over there until my sister startled with fear as she sees peacekeepers, and a line of girls and boys being signed in. I tried to calm her down, “It’s okay, Nicole. It’s time to sign in, they are just going to take a little bit of blood,”

“You didn’t say-”

“I know, it doesn’t hurt much.” I put my hand on her cheeks as I see the tears flowing down her face, she was so scared, I hate it when she is in pain or scared out of her mind, it makes my heart crumble, she doesn’t deserve this; she is only a child. “Go over to the little kids section, and I will meet you there alright.”

“Next, next.” Nicole finally budge giving the peacekeeper her finger, she startled out of the shock, placing her fingerprint on the paper as the peacekeeper sees that it was actually her on the screen with green letters highlighted. It was my turn, but I was more concerned about Nicole, it did stung a little, and then the peacekeeper left me through. My amber honey eyes started to look around for Nicole, but I couldn’t find her until I see Josh who was my long time childhood friend, we haven’t seen each other in forever until now. “You okay?” He mouthed.

I nodded.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor, now before we began, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the Capital.” Yeah, what a wonderful special film, thanks Capital. “War, terrible war.” Josh mouthed, I chuckled. “War, terrible war, with those orphan and motherless child. This was the uprising that brought us our land, the country that fed them, protected them. Then came the peace, hard fought, soley won; the people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born. The freedom has a cost, and the traitors were defeated. Peace, War as a nation, we would never know this treason again, and so it was decreed that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up in tribute. One young man and woman to fight to the death,” Anger raising up in my bones, it was a wildfire inside of me, a monster that wanted to be uncaged from hearing the President’s voice, my eyes looked all around to see all the kids looking up at the screen from this cruel so called special film, “And, it peg you to honor, courage and sacrifice- the lone victor will bathe in riches, will serve as our reminder of our generosity, and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past, this is how we safeguard our future.”

“I just love that,” She cheerly smiles, “Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 15 in the 78th Hunger Games, as usual, ladies first.” Effie goes over to the left bowl twirling her hand, grabbing the slip of paper, she starts unfolding it, “Nicole Argent,” She was so scared when she heard her name. No, no no. This is a nightmare, wake up, Allison. Wake up. “Where are you?” The kids start to make a pathway for her to come forward, she tucks in her little tail. “Well, come on up. Come on up.”

“Nicole, nicole.” The peacekeepers tried to hold me down, but I was fighting back; I’m not letting my sister enter the area, “No, I VOLUNTEER, I VOLUNTEER,” I pushed the peacekeepers away from me looking up straight at them, “I volunteer as tribute!” I shouted. I just couldn’t bear the thought of Nicole entering that area. “I believe we have a volunteer, um Mr.Mayor?” I immediately wrap my arms around Nicole’s body, “Nicole, you need to get out of here.”

“No! No! No!” She started shouting, “Go find Mom,” My voice was shaky, “No!”

“Nicole, go find Mom,” Tears started to flow down my eyes, “No!” She wouldn’t let go, but I had to do this, “I’m so sorry,” Josh came scooping Nicole into his arms, as I can hear the screams from Nicole, I wiped the tears away trying to be strong. “This isn’t me,” I spoked, confidently. The peacekeepers started to take me up to the stage, as my mind started to race, and my heart beating very fast as I realise that right now, my life is on my line, and if I die, it was for my district. “In mad of turn of events here on District 15, yes well, District 15 very first volunteer.”

I made it up towards the stage, I’m scared to death right now, my hands won’t stop shaking. My heart is beating really fast like I am having a panic attack, oxygen levels are increasing rapidly as the walls start to close in on me, like I can’t even breathe. I was drowning. “Come on, dear.”

“What’s your name?” She asked, pulling the microphone towards me, “Allison Argent.”

“I bet my hat that was your sister, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” My voice sounded crushed, my life is now in their hands, and that’s the most terrifying thing ever. “Let’s give a big hand to our first volunteer, Allison Argent.” It was only silence until hands with three fingers started to rise up, which means togetherness. A tear flowed down my cheek seeing how strong our district really is. “And, now for the boys.” Effie walks over to the right bowl instantly grabbing a slip of paper for the boys section, she starts unfolding it. Don’t call Josh, please don’t say his name. “Stiles Stilinski.” My eyes instantly lit up remembering that name, the peacekeepers start to bring him up to the stage, “Here we are, our tributes from District 15, well go on you two shake hands.” I look at his golden amber eyes like mine remembering that day where it was the first feeding in months.

[ FLASHBACK }

I was starving so much, there was no food in days; my body was giving up on me slowly, it was raining outside, my back against the tree as I look over at the bakery where Stiles and his mom owned, he comes out about to feed the pigs, until his mother comes out giving him a slap on the face for disobeying her; she leaves as Stiles throws a piece of bread to the pig, then he looks at me, seeing how I was on the verge of dying because of how incredibly hungry I was. He then looks back to make sure his mother doesn’t see, then throws the burned loaf of bread out into the rain.

Then, Stiles and I hands intertwined with eachother as I felt a little spark between us, I brushed it off, I can’t think about my feelings right now; all I can think about is how I’m going to survive this year’s hunger games. “Happy Hunger Games, and may be the odds be ever in your favor.” Then, the peacekeepers took Stiles and I inside of the building, my eyes started to look around seeing everything fastly, until one of the peacekeeper places me into a room, I look back at Stiles until the peacekeeper shuts the door, and I wait for my family. I look out at the window, trying to come up with a way to survive, but every obstacle or possible outcome is to kill people, the other districts, which I can’t be. I can’t be a killer. What would Nicole think of me then. I won’t be the same person I am to her. How am I going to survive this. I start pacing back and forth until I hear footsteps coming towards the door, “You have three minutes,” Nicole instantly hugged me, crying her eyes out. “Ssh, you are going to be okay, I don’t have enough time. Nicole, listen to me, don’t take any extra money for food. That doesn't worth putting your name more times. Nicole, listen to me, Josh will bring you game, he stuck cheese from your goat.”

“Just try to win as best as you can,” Her voice was shaky, as tears went down her cheeks making my heart break into pieces. “Maybe, I can. I am smart you know?”

“You can hunt.”

“Exactly,” It was hard seeing her like this, but I will protect her with my life even if I have to risk my own life, “To protect you.” She hands me the mockingjay pin, I tried to fight back the tears, I can’t be weak. I have to be strong for Nicole. “Thank you.” I tug her into one last hug giving her a kiss on her forehead, I then look over at my mother walking towards her. “You can’t shut off again.”

“I won’t.” As much as I want to believe her, I can’t risk it. She is the only person for Nicole, and when she shut down, it was frustrating yet devastating seeing her like that. “No, you can’t. I won’t be here for her, and no matter what, you have to be there for her, you understand?”

“Don’t cry,” I instantly wrapped my arms around her neck pulling her into a hug since this is the last time we are going to see each other.Tears started to form in my eyes, stop crying Allison; this isn’t you. “Don’t cry, don’t.” My voice sounded like I was going to break, but I just can’t. “It’s time,” The peacekeepers started to pull Nicole away from me, “It’s okay, Nicole.” She wouldn’t let go of my side, “No!” but the Peacekeepers pulled her off of me, “I promise, Nicole.” Then, the door was slammed shut, I slowly walked up to it, giving it a tug to open it then close. I tried to open it again, but it wouldn’t shut until Josh and Kira comes in. They both pull me in for a group hug, I can hear the soft cries from Kira, I pull away from them. “I’m fine,” In reality, I wasn’t. “I know, listen to me; you are stronger than this, you are. Get to a bow.”

“They might not one,” I was so scared, this is actually happening to me. I’ve never thought that this will happen to me, but it is. “It doesn’t matter, Allison. They just want a good show, that’s all they want; if they don’t have one, you make one.” Kira added. “They’re not animals, we are actually talking about actual humans,”

“They are no different, Allison.” How can Josh say that, I can’t do this. I can’t actually kill these human beings, I’m not like this. “There are only 24 of us, only one survives.” I started to shake filled with panic, and fear in my eyes. “It’s going to be you, Alls.” Kira hugged me really quick until the peacekeepers came in; I quickly hugged them both then the peacekeepers finally took them away from me, shutting the door in front of me. Couple of minutes, the peacekeepers takes Stiles and I towards the truck, Effie started to talk to both of us- neither of us weren’t paying attention as my thoughts started to come together on how I’m going to kill these people, and once again; survive. I shouldn’t be thinking about how to kill these people, because I don’t know if I can; my fingers started to shake again. “Allison, are you okay?” Stiles looked over seeing my shaky hands, very concerned, Effie looks over at them as well, “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine,” That’s what my outside is telling you, inside; I am absolutely terrified, and I don’t think I will ever stop being terrified. We got to the tributes train, as the door opens - my eyes were so shocked seeing all of these delicious foods in front of me. I’ve never seen so many delicious foods in front of me before. The three of us all walk in, and my eyes started to scan all around taking everything all at once. This is it.

It’s finally happening.

I’m in the hunger games.

#stallison #stiles stilinski #allison argent #stiles x allison #dylan o'brien #crystal reed #the hunger games #the hunger games series #the hunger games fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #thg imagine #teen wolf imagine

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gaycousinlarry · 5 years

Text

Annual Writing Self Evaluation

1. List of works published this year:

Something in the way

Hope Floats 90’s AU. When Louis Tomlinson finds out his wife is cheating on him with his best friend, he packs up his life and takes his daughter back to his childhood hometown to start anew. The problem is—he’s not so sure he’s moving forwards rather than backwards. What he finds in the small Texas town is a whole lot of memories, people who think they still know him and a man who’s spent the past decade waiting for his return.

maybe

52 year old Harry Styles attends the Leicester Bookkeepers conference for the fourth year in a row. He didn’t believe in love at first sight before, but maybe now he does.

Written as part of the 1D Short Fic Fest Spring 2018.

Crush

To Louis it doesn’t matter if Harry wears misfitting cardigans and has rosy cherub cheeks or if he’s the well-dressed, drop dead gorgeous, author of today—Louis has adored him through it all and will continue to do so for as long as he lives.

Written as part of the Anything But(t) Challenge.

a morning like madness

Harry is the kind of girl who deserves to be taken out on sweet romantic dates and to be showered in compliments because she's never expecting them. And now she's with Louis. And Harry acts like she's the one that lucked out.

Part three of the daydreams are made of this series.

Metamorphosis

This is the extraordinarily ordinary AU about two boys extraordinarily in love.

A sequel to Them Butterflies. Third and final part of the series as a whole.

Bleeding Love

Louis is an animal rights activist who throws red paint at fur coat wearing it-girl Harry Styles. Then there's a crack in the surface and something new starts bleeding through.

Written as part of Girl Direction Fic Fest.

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Something in the way because I had no idea how challenging it would be to write a movie AU, but I ended up very happy with the result. I think I managed to balance the characters and make them their own while paying tribute to the beautiful mood of the film. I’d never written a kid fic or anything as angsty before either. Harry in this fic is one of the characters I’ve written that I think about and miss the most.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I’m one of those writers who are ridiculously proud of everything they’ve finished hah. If I have posted it on ao3, it’s because I feel like I did a good job so I’ve got nothing to put here. I know I’m not an earth shattering author by any means, but I wish more writers would take pride in what they write anyways. I’ve fricking created whole worlds and been brave enough to share it with others. That’s amazing.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

“You like red, right?” Harry asks, and for a moment she looks flustered. The breezy flawless woman who just welcomed Louis into her home melted into a slightly awkward girl with curls growing frizzy with heat. Louis’ belly drops at the sight.

This is from Bleeding Love and I love it because it captures their dynamic as well as the shift from strangers, enemies even, to something entirely different. Describing Harry from Louis’ POV in this fic was so much fun both because Louis is a bit of a mess, but also because Harry is always so much more than what you might think.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

Any comments I’ve gotten from wlw on a morning like madness or Bleeding Love means the absolute world to me. I was terrified of writing girl direction at first, so every time a woman says she can relate or even that she thought it was cute/funny/hot, it just makes me so so happy.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Literally all year. This has been the busiest, most mad year of my life and my writing is very affected by my mood and health. I can’t write just to write, so I’ve struggled with all the fics I’ve written this year. I’m so so happy I managed to finish them though, and as always, couldn’t be more thankful I had Nic @louandhazaf by my side to pull me through.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

The second half of Something in the way turned out a whole lot different than I expected, which allowed the characters to grow in ways I hadn’t predicted and made me fall in love with them even more.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I learned that even though I’ve felt like I can’t write at all, I’ve still published 92k of stories I’m proud of. Even when it felt impossible, I had to learn to have patience, to be kind to myself, and to grasp the small moments when I could write.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope I can write more and experiment more. I’ve always made fun of the fact that I can’t write plot based stories, and while I’m okay with that for the most part, I do have a story I want to write that won’t happen without a proper plot so. That. I also wouldn’t mind going in the opposite direction and try out some new styles and moods.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

It’s literally always Nic, both as a writer and as a beta she’s one of the most incredible people and she both inspires me and forces me to get better.

Also very much all the girl direction writers who’ve popped up this year, it’s been amazing to watch and I adore you all.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

lol yes

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Be kind to yourself. Nothing gets better because you tell yourself your writing is shit, just the fact that you’re writing is absolutely incredible and more than a lot of people would ever dare to do.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Symbiote/alien Harry AU because it’s so fucking weird and challenging. I’d love to properly start my hockey players in their 30s AU as well. Please.

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@newleafover @rosegoldhlfics @disgruntledkittenface

#i love doing these because they give me the black and white that i’ve actually managed to write this year lol #now i miss all my fic babies #fanfic #my writing

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

Note

You could write something about haymitch loving Effie's ass and be pretty vocal about it and Effie love to tease him. Could be some stories in different years!! I love ur fanfics ❤️

Here you go! [x}

5 Times Haymitch Appreciated Effie’s BacksideAnd One Time She Did

There was something almost sadistic to watchinghis new escort realize they had lost.

Haymitch sat there on the penthouse’s couch,nursing a glass of whiskey, making the ice click when he brought it to hismouth, listening to the long agonizing beep of the tributes monitors on thecoffee table.

She had been a pain in the ass from day one. Effie Trinket. A ridiculous name for a ridiculous woman who actually believed Twelve had a realshot. She had tried to force his hand, to get him involved in the mentoring,every time he had snapped she had simply smiled harder and ignored him… This,though, he had seen coming. He had even tried to warn her, out of the goodnessof his dead heart, just because he had noticed she had gotten attached and that… Well, that was never good.

She had been hard on the kids too. Beratingthem about manners and what not – and they had fought about that because whocared if they knew which fork to use for salad and for fish. But at least…Well, at least she had tried to coach them when it had become clear he wouldn’t. She had tried to get him towork with her. That was more than any escort had bothered to do in some years.So, yeah. He had seen her getting attached and in a rare moment of compassionfor a stupid woman with a ridiculous pink wig, he had warned her.

She had refused to listen.

She had brushed him off, scoffed at him, toldhim to watch and learn because now that Twelve had proper management they couldnot lose…

And there they were now, the bloodbath not evenover, six minutes in and already tribute-less.

It would have been funny if it hadn’t been sosad.

She was still standing behind the armchair, herlips slightly parted in shock, her eyes comically wide…

Slowly, he leaned in and turned the monitor offso that strident beep that signaled their tributes’ death would stop. He triednot to notice everything else on the coffee table. She had prepared herself fordays of work at the very least. There were countless notes on sponsors thatseemed to be color-coded, the phone, bottles of water, little sandwiches, alist of everything available to send through sponsor shipment and itscorresponding prices, a list of people she thought might be swayed intosupporting Twelve… Stupid. Genuinelystupid.

He wasn’t sure if he didn’t like the carelessescorts better. The girls who came in at the Reaping and who he hardly ever sawagain because they were too busy going from party to party, being seen. Heended up fucking them more often than not – it was easier to get them to quitthat way. Those ones never looked crushed when their kids died or, if theydid, it was simply because of how humiliatingit was to represent Twelve.

“Well.” Trinket said at last, battling hereyelashes hard. Haymitch dearly hopedshe wasn’t going to start bawling because he wasn’t going to offer comfort to astuck-up Capitol. He just wasn’t. “Wewill have better luck next year.”

He snorted. Typical. It wasn’t the kids she wassad about then. Just the fact they had lost.

“You believe that, you’re even more of an idiotthan you look.” he spat, taking another sip of whiskey.

“I will thank you not to call me name.” she hissed, glaring at him.

Her anger was out of proportions, he thought.He had been pulling her leg for more than two weeks now and she was usuallyvery good at either ignoring him or retorting something witty that usuallythrew him for a couple of seconds. The only times she had lost her temper hadbeen in regard of his complete lack of interest when it came to mentoring.Every time he had made it about her she had just… let it slide.

Maybe it wasn’t just about losing then.

“I call it as I see it.” he shrugged anyway.“You’re an ugly stupid clown.”

“Youare a disgusting pathetic little man.” she scowled and then stormed out of the room.

How she could move so fast or so swiftly onthose heels, he wasn’t sure, but she certainly made it look easy. He watchedher go because, he had already noticed, watching her storm out wasn’t a bad view. Fuck, but those dresses of hers weretight. He couldn’t vouch for the face caked with make-up as it was and hehated those wigs but it was impossible to ignore her long legs or the shape ofher ass.

“Ain’t nothing little about me, Trinket!” he called after her, unwilling to lether have the last word. “Just ask around!”

A slamming door further down in the penthousewas the only answer he got.

“That woman’s a nuisance but she’s got an assto damn a saint.” Chaff snorted in his glass, his eyes riveted on the dancefloor over Haymitch’s shoulder where Trinket was dancing – if that sensualswaying she was doing could be called that– to the slow beat of the music. “I don’t get why you haven’t fucked her yet, buddy.”

Haymitch scoffed, not even glancing in herdirection. He didn’t have to. The mirror behind the bar was enough for him tokeep an eye on her. “Not interested.”

Chaff’s gaze darted to him, eyebrows lifted, anamused expression on his face. “Like hell. She’s just your type.”

“She’s a clown.” he grumbled.

“They’re allclowns.” his friend shrugged. “Never stopped you before. You know what I say…Turn off the light, you don’t have to look at their painted face while you fuck them.”

“Turning off the light won’t make her stoptalking though.” he pointed out, taking a long swing of whiskey. “Nothing makes her stop talking.”

Two years of listening to her prattle aboutfashion or manners had taught him that. The painful way.

“Keep her mouth busy, then.” Chaff joked andHaymitch rolled his eyes, his lips stretching into a smirk despite himself.

He switched topics though, bringing theconversation back on that year’s Games and what they should expect. They keptthe whiskey flowing too.

So much so that by the end of the night hewouldn’t have been able to give his whole name without stuttering. He wasvaguely aware that Chaff handed him over to someone far more smaller and farless strong than he was but it took him a good ten minutes to realized theperson supporting his weight in the elevator was Trinket.

“You know…” he slurred. “I hate you…”

“A sentiment I share, I assure you.” shegrumbled, adjusting her grip on him because he couldn’t really stand straight.Her arms were so strained they were trembling so he decided to help her bywrapping his around her. She huffed and wrinkled her nose, trying to keep herhead away from him. “You stink! Whenwas the last time you showered? You reek of alcohol and sweat, Haymitch! It is disgusting.”

He didn’t bother trying to make sense of thattirade through his alcohol soaked brain.

“I hate you…” he insisted, the words takingweird shapes in his fuzzy mouth. “But you’ve got the greatest ass I’ve everseen…” And to prove it, he seized half of it in one hand and gave it a generoussqueeze that made her gasp and whack his arm. He sighed contently beforeletting go, nodding to himself. “Great ass…”

She stuttered a rebuke but she was crimson underher make-up and he couldn’t really tell if she was really angry or not.

Fingers clicked right in front of Haymitch’sface, making him startle. He blinked in time to see Chaff rolled his eyes andgesture at him with his stump to decide what he wanted to do. Haymitch glancedat the cards in his hand – cards he hadn’t really been paying attention to, tobegin with – and wisely decided to fold.

Seven’s floor’s dining-room was a littleclouded from the cigars Chaff, Blight and Beetee were sharing. Haymitch hadtaken one but it had mostly consumed itself, forgotten in his hand. He had beendistracted during the entire poker game.

“What are you thinking about that’s so damn riveting?” Chaff complained. “Youhaven’t said a word all night.”

“Nothing.” he denied while Beetee gathered thechips he had won in that round.

“Like hell.” Blight laughed. “I know that face.You’ve got a new lady, ‘Mitch?”

Haymitch hated being called Mitch and only suffered it becauseSeven’s heavy accent made it sound more like an actual word than a nickname.

“No.” he lied, grabbing the deck of cards todeal out more. He strongly suspected Beetee had been cheating every time it hadbeen his turn to deal the cards.

Well. It wasn’t really a lie.

So what if he had fucked Effie Trinket against a wall a couple of times? Tempers hadflown high. It had gotten to the point it was either fuck or murder and itwasn’t like they had planned it…Accidents happened. Sometimes you slipped. Against the wall. Against the baywindow. In the elevator.

That had been last year though. Quick and roughand probably not that good for her because he had just thrust into her a fewtimes to chase after his selfish release. He had fully expected it to neverhappened again when he had boarded the train back to Twelve. Truth be told, hehad fully expected to never see her again either because most people tried toavoid awkward situations like the plague.

Not Effie Trinket though.

Never Effie Trinket.

She had showed up for the Reaping prim andproper, had invaded his house and orderedhim to get presentable, all the while pretending nothing had ever happened…He had followed her lead on that front, thinking it had been for the best.

And then, merely five hours later – perhaps arecord for them – they had started arguing again. And he had pushed her on oneof the train’s couches. And she had parted her legs for him as if that had beenall she had been after from the start. And maybethat time he had tried to make it alittle better for her…

And then…

They weren’ta thing. They never talked about it again.

They fought and they fucked and then they righted their clothes and went on withbusiness.

They had never even made it to the completelynaked stage. Hell, they had never even made it to a bed.

But now he knew what her breasts tasted like,what she sounded like when she came, and the previous day he had caught aglimpse of tantalizing creamy round flesh when she had pushed her dress backdown and…

He had been obsessed with her ass ever since.

He wanted her bent over.

He wanted her bent over the couch and he wantedto stand behind her and…

“You’re gone again.” Chaff sighed. “Look,buddy, if you’re not gonna play…”

“I’m playing. Fuck off.” he snapped, tossing two more chips on the pile in themiddle of the table.

The thing was… How to get her to agree to fucking her from behind. They never discussed sex. It happened. And itusually happened fast and brutally. She was demanding and she had no problemshowing him what she wanted while they were doing it or going after it herselfbut there was a difference between having someone against a wall and forcingher to bend over a couch.

He got lost in the fantasy for a second and hispants were definitely too tight the next time Blight reminded him, with alaugh, that it was his turn.

He grumbled about his friends being assholesthat night when he added more chips but he was too distracted to really pushthe point home.

He wanted to do things to her he had never donewith anyone else. Would she let him spank her while he fucked her? It was so hard to say with her… She acted like aperfect lady but he had quickly discovered that when it came to sex… She was atiger. She was… The idea of leaving a reddish mark on her pale skin…

He gulped down the glass of whiskey he still hadn’ttouched, trying to drown those thoughts away.

At the end of the night, he was veryfrustrated, very horny and much poorer.

Which was why he let Chaff convince him theyshould head to the bar and why he let a Capitol woman buy him a drink. That one,he already knew, was so desperate to hook up with a victor she would probablyagree to anything.

He should really get out of her bed now,Haymitch thought.

This had been happening more and more lately.The post-sex lingering, the cuddling, sometimes on rare occasions even somenapping… But he couldn’t really get himself to move, not when Trinket was lyingon his chest, all spent and sweaty, and he was warm and comfortable. One of hishands was playing with her hair, the other one was distractedly following thecurve of her ass…

She suddenly chuckled, for no obvious reasonthat he could see.

“What?” he muttered, tugging on a lock of blondhair just to irritate her. It always took far too negotiating to get her to getrid of those ugly wigs. That, too, was a recent development, her reluctantwillingness to let him see her bare from make-up and synthetic hairstyles.

“You are obsessed with my hair and my ass.” sheaccused, propping her chin on his chest so she could look at him. Her blue eyeswere twinkling with mischief, an impudent grin stretched her lips, and he felthimself smirk in response.

“Wouldn’t say obsessed.” he denied. Although… He did have something for her hair. And he did love staring at her bare butt.

And he knew she knew.

She certainly took advantage of it when itsuited her.

“They’re your favorite things about me.” shecountered.

He contemplated that for a second, his fingersleaving the curve of her bottom to brush against every bump of her spine. Heprobably should be alarmed at the casualness with which she proclaimed he had favorite things at all but… Well…Sex was such a common occurrence between them nowadays… They had been at it forwell over five years now. If he hadn’t been attracted, he wouldn’t keep comingback for more.

“I like your legs too.” he shrugged. “And yourtits. Can’t forget about the tits…”

He also liked her slender neck. And her eyes.And her mouth. And her bellybutton. And what lied between her legs.

It was something of a shock to realize therewas nothing he didn’t like about herbody. Sure, he usually went for brunettes and she was very blond but there werereddish hues under certain lights he couldn’t help but be fascinated with. Andit was so impossibly curly that…

“Well, I amextremely attractive.” she hummed.

“You’re full of yourself.” he scoffed, lettinghimself get distracted by her usual arrogance instead of panicking. “That’swhat you are.”

“I would rather be full of you.” she purred inthat distinctive tone.

She was a minx. A fiery minx.

“Ain’t you already?” he taunted, reachingaround her to brush his fingers between her legs, causing her to press hardagainst his hips. Her thighs fell open and his smirk only deepened when he feltthe sticky mess they had made. They hadn’t stopped using condoms so long agothat the novelty had worn off yet. He had never done it without protectionbefore her and he had to admit he liked the change. It was… arousing in aprimitive way.

She licked her lips, her hips rocking slowpurposeful circles against his groin. “Don’t pretend you do not want me again.”

Oh, he did.It wasn’t even funny how quickly she could get him up with the right word orthe right move… And when she behaved like this… So sexy and bossy…

He rolled them over but moved away before shecould trap him by wrapping her legs around his waist. He turned her on herstomach and straddled her, gripping her wrists high over her head. She gave atoken resistance because she never relinquished control easily but soon stilledunder him, straining her neck to toss him an impatient look over her shoulder.

“Sometimes today, Haymitch.” she demanded.

She was too haughty for his taste and hedecided he was going to take his time.

He started by nibbling at her nape and thenbiting a steady path down her spine, leaving red marks in the wake of his mouththat she would probably rage over later on. For now, though, her breathing wasshort and heavy and by the time he reached the small of her back, she waswriggling, trying to rub herself against the mattress.

“You keep those hands up there, sweetheart.” heordered, finally letting go of her wrists to move further down. He spread herthighs, like always a bit surprised by how flexible she was, and placed himselfbetween them. By game or frustration, she immediately tried to sneak her handbetween her legs. He slapped her rightcheek, not hard enough to bruise but with enough strength that it would sting.“What did I say?”

“I am not in the mood for games.” she growled.“Just fuck me already.”

Vulgarity, in her mouth, was always an instantturn on and he couldn’t help himself. He thrust into her hard, making her cryout in pleasure. She wanted him to fuckher, he could oblige. He drove home hard, again and again, spurred on by thenoises she was making. Eventually, he shifted positions and just lied down ontop of her. The angle wasn’t deep enough and she growled in protest but hesimply smirked against her shoulder, licking and biting in turns.

“Haymitch.” she warned.

“I do like your ass.” he confessed, brushingher hair to the side so he could bump his nose against her cheek.

“If you want to be allowed to see it again, Iwould advise you to stop teasing.”she hissed.

He chuckled.

He loved it when she was like that. All riledup and desperate to climax. He loved making her lose that composure of hers. Heloved it when she begged.

“Say please.” he teased.

“Go to hell.” she retorted.

“Sure.” he snorted. “But after I come all overyour ass, yeah?”

He was close now so he simply slipped out ofher to sit up and he would probably have done just that if she hadn’t managedto somehow make him lose his balance. He blamed those self-defense classes shekept bragging about. He ended up flat on his back and she lost no time instraddling him and guiding him inside her again.

He very rarely allowed her to be on top likethat, with him sprawled on his back. She didn’t care though, she rode him withabandon, her eyes closed, her own hands kneading her breasts…

She was a vision.

And it was his undoing.

She kept rocking her hips after he was spent,seeking her own pleasure. He felt a bit shaky but he reached between her legs,stroking her and watching her move up and down…

She came with a sharp mewl, her head thrownback, and then she slumped on his chest again and they were right back wherethey had started.

Except he was very sleepy now.

He fell asleep clutching her ass.

There were worse way to do that.

“This is simply atrocious.” Effie sighed.

Haymitch tuned her out, too used by now to herrants about Thirteen uniforms. He focused on the reports in front him, glancingat Command’s door for the tenth time in as many minutes. He wasn’t sure if hewas anxious for the briefing to start or happy the others weren’t there yet.Coin was already grating on his every last nerves and Plutarch’s attempts atconvincing him to roll with her plans for now weren’t helping.

His priority was to keep Katniss out of troubleand to convince Thirteen to launch a rescue mission for the captured victors,though, and that required Coin not to hate him too much.

“I simply look fat.” his escort insisted, twisting left and right to betterglimpse her vague reflection on one of the turned off screens in the room.

Haymitch dropped the report in his hand tostudy her, unable to claim she was wrong there. Those second-hand frayedjumpsuits didn’t fit anyone and she wasn’t the exception to the rule. Itactually looked even worse on her because she was so thin the fabric was baggyall over. It was shapeless.

And he stillfound her beautiful, which was probably telling about his own feelings.

“On the bright side, I don’t have to watchpeople ogle your ass all day long anymore.” he shrugged.

She whirled around with a bright smile and fartoo much amusement dancing in her eyes. “Why, Haymitch… Does it bother you whenother people eye me?”

She always delighted on potential displays onjealousy.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Bigger fishes tofry right now, yeah?”

She sauntered to the chair next to his and satdown, far too smug for his liking. He faked reading the reports again.

“Plutarch is still ogling me even with thejumpsuits, you know.” she hummed casually.

“Noticed.” he mumbled. Because he had. And itirritated him. A lot. “Also noticed you encourage him.”

“Well. A girl likes to be admired now, doesn’tshe?” she retorted.

“A girlshould know better than playing recklessly.”he commented, not glancing away from the papers in front of him. “Look, I ain’tsaying it ain’t smart for you to be friendly with Plutarch…” Because that waswhat it was all about, he figured. Cozying up with people in power who couldkeep her safe from the rebels who weren’t too happy with her presence in theirDistrict. He didn’t think she particularly likedHeavensbee, the Head Gamemaker kept treating her like an assistant. “But turnit down a notch, yeah? The next thing you know, he’s gonna think he’s got areal shot.”

“Perhaps he does.” she teased.

He let his hand fall from the table on herthigh, grateful that the room was empty.

“Your ass is mine, Princess.” he claimed.

“I am not limited to my ass, you know.” she sighedwith amusement. “And must you alwaysbe so crass?”

“I know you’re not.” he replied. She wascleverer than most but she was very good at pretending to be nothing else thana pretty face. “Ain’t sure he does.”

“You are jealous.” she chuckled.

He squeezed her thigh and took his hand away.“Of Plutarch Heavensbee? Hardly.”

“Good.” she grinned, tilting her head to theside. She looked him up and down in that provocative way that usually led themto shed their clothes. “There really is noreason to be.”

Effie finished loosely knotting the belt of hersilk dressing gown as she walked into the kitchen, her lips immediatelystretching into a smile when she spotted Haymitch getting busy at the stove.Quiet mornings in Twelve might be her favorite things nowadays. The fainthonking of the geese outside, the familiar humming of the old fridge, theplumbing that sometimes clang when they opened a tap…

And Haymitch cooking, of course.

“I suppose I should be happy you remembered toput on an apron.” she teased, trying her best to contain her laughter.

To her discharge, it was hard to remainimpassible faced with Haymitch Abernathy wearing a kiss the cook apron and nothing else.

With him taking care of their eggs and her backto her, she had a very nice view of his backside and she sat down at the tableto better admire it.

“You made it clear you didn’t want my junkdamaged so…” he shrugged, winking at her over his shoulder.

She had insisted on them buying an apron if hewas to go on cooking without clothes on because, yes, she was concerned hewould burn himself in areas she liked intact. He had been the one to choose theridiculously corny kiss the cook design– so she had no choice but to kiss him every time he wore it, or so he claimed.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, is it my fault if you insist on always walkingaround naked?”

“It’s myown fucking house. Can walk aroundnaked in my own fucking house.” hegrumbled.

It was a touchy subject. Mostly because thechildren kept barging in without warning and Haymitch wasn’t always the onlyone naked.

After a few minutes, he placed the eggs on twoplates and she stood up to pour them both some coffee. They danced around eachother in the kitchen as they grabbed everything they needed for breakfast in awell-rehearsed ballet. She couldn’t help but stare at what the apron wasn’t hidingthough.

“Like what you see?” he mocked with a smirkbefore dropping on a chair.

And there wassomething to be said about him sitting naked on furniture but it was a fightshe had long accepted to lose.

“There are worse sights.” she grinned, leaningdown to steal a kiss because they had yet to properly greet each other thatmorning.

They were so domestic those days…

But she wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

There reallywere worse things than having to stare at Haymitch’s naked ass everymorning.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #games time #mj time #post mj #movie!verse #flighting hayffie #coconuts #cuddles #fluff #d13 #not established #coconuts friends #established

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Marvel’s Loki Episode 6: MCU Easter Eggs and Comics References

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This article contains Loki episode 6 spoilers, and potential spoilers for the wider MCU.

The Loki season finale (and thanks to the mid-credits scene we know it’s a “season finale” not a “series finale,” thank Odin) is here, and it’s got bigger ramifications for the Marvel Cinematic Universe than we ever could have imagined. Loki episode 6 may be light on Marvel Comics Easter eggs (and after last week’s egg-fest, don’t get greedy!), but it’s BIG on characters and concepts that we’ll be dealing with and talking about for years to come.

Let’s get to work and see what we found in Loki episode 6.

The Opening

The opening space sequence is a clear homage to Robert Zemeckis’ Contact. The 1997 sci-fi film begins with a similar CG pullout from Earth into the known universe and beyond while we hear clips of historic speeches and songs. These fade away until there is silence, and then the camera reveals the universe has been inside the protagonist’s eye. As Loki’s opening tails off, we hear Sylvie shout “open your eyes!”

This isn’t the first Contact homage we’ve seen in the Disney+ MCU shows either, as WandaVision embraced one during Monica Rambeau’s transformation sequence as she forged through the Hex. And it’s not the only sci-fi movie reference we get in the episode, either!

What are Those Voices?

There are plenty of famous quotes from the MCU all through that wild, cosmic opening, but as far as we can tell, none of them are especially significant to the events of this episode. There are also some famous quotes from real life figures. They include:

“One small step for man…” – Neil Armstrong

“How dare they!” – Great Thunberg

“My dream…” – Malala Yousafzai

“We have fought for the right to experience peace.” – Nelson Mandela

“I will rise.” – Maya Angelou

“We think of time as a one-way motion…” – Not identified by closed captioning but possibly Carl Sagan

“Motivated by women throughout the world.” – Also not identified by closed captioning

This beginning features several prominent songs from throughout human history. The opening of Beethoven’s “Für Elise” pops up noticeably yet briefly, and we think we heard strains from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.

The majority of it, however, is set to the strains of The Harry James Band’s version of “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” a song that is heartrendingly familiar to Captain America fans as the song that plays over Avengers: Endgame’s perfect final moment. The song first popped up in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, when Nick Fury was playing it in Steve’s apartment (clearly, Steve had plans for this song), but here the “Long, Long Time” in question is referring to the lifespan of series villain, “He Who Remains,” better known as…

Kang the Conqueror

(quick disclaimer: for simplicity’s sake, we’re referring to He Who Remains as Kang in this section, but for reasons that will become clear, there’s some nuance there, so just bear with us)

Kang’s backstory as laid out here also pays tribute to the idea of “The Council of Cross Time Kangs” which is both an assortment of variant Kangs from assorted timelines and also the people who battled/defeated them…and thus took on the mantle of Kang in their respective timelines. Does your head hurt yet? Because…

There was also an “Interdimensional Council of Reeds” from Jonathan Hickman’s run on Fantastic Four. Like Kang, various Reed Richards from various realities met up via portals and decided to help out areas of the multiverse in need using their combined intellect. Initially, they were mostly killed by a bunch of Celestials. These days they’re back, but led by the corrupt Reed Richards from the Ultimate Universe (the Maker). Things are going to be absolutely bonkers when the MCU finally brings us the FF.

Despite Jonathan Majors having signed on to play Kang the Conqueror in Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, he’s never actually identified as such here. In the credits, he’s the Miss Minutes-approved “He Who Remains.” The closest we get to him being called Kang is when he mentions that he’s been referred to as “a conqueror.” He also mentions that he’s been called a “ruler” which could very well be taken as a reference to the character’s time as Pharaoh Rama-Tut.

When Sylvie takes a swing at Kang early on, he teleports and ends up laying down behind them in a smug pose. This looks to be a reference to his first comic appearance (1964’s Avengers #8), where the Avengers find him casually laying down in mid-air.

Loki Episode 6 Review: For All Time. Always.

By Kirsten Howard

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Who is Kang the Conqueror? Powers and Marvel Comics History Explained

By Jim Dandeneau

Kang isn’t rocking any of his familiar comics looks here (although the color scheme is vaguely appropriate), but at least one of the “miniatures” he uses to illustrate his story appears to be.

He Who Remains

While the “He Who Remains” we meet here is definitely meant as a Kang variant of some kind, the character exists independently of Kang in the comics!

He Who Remains has only made a handful of appearances in Marvel Comics, with the first (and most substantial) being in 1976’s Thor #246 by Len Wein, John Buscema, and Joe Sinnott. There, it was Thor and Jane Foster entering the “Citadel at the End of Time” to meet He Who Remains, and they have ALMOST a similar moment to Loki and Sylvie in that one wants He destroyed while the other wants to listen to what he has to say.

The comics He Who Remains was later revealed as the founder of the TVA (just like we see in the MCU) and the actual creator of the Time-Keepers. And while he shares Kang’s fondness for purple, he was never defined as a Kang variant in the comics, and in fact was pretty explicitly not that.

Secret Wars

The Multiversal War idea that plays so heavily throughout Loki also ties into Jon Hickman’s Avengers run where the multiverse has been collapsing onto itself due to the machinations of the Beyonders. As entropy destroys everything, various Earths are pitted against each other and are given the choice of destroying the other or both dying. While this led to a single world run by Dr. Doom, Reed Richards was eventually able to overtake him and bring back the multiverse.

Also with Hickman’s run, there was a moment of Captain America coming across a group of Kangs from different eras (regular Kang, Iron Lad, and Immortus) and explaining that allowing so many to die in order to save so many more is immoral. After the inspirational speech, Kang simply told him, “No one here…cares.”

Ravonna Renslayer

Well, we share the FDR High School pen mystery with this episode, that’s for sure!

After Renslayer decided she wouldn’t be steered towards a complicated future with Kang in the pages of Marvel Comics, she betrayed him and then assumed the name “Rebecca Tourminet,” which we see printed on her diploma back on Earth when B-15 is introducing the TVA Minutemen to the Real Her.

Interestingly, MCU Renslayer doesn’t appear to be aware of Kang or He Who Remains just yet, so perhaps there’s more interesting things coming down the pipe for these time-tossed lovers.

The Ending

“You know you can’t get to the end until you’ve been changed by the journey,” Kang tells Loki and Sylvie. It seems as though Kang has a surprisingly thorough understanding of what makes a good story. This could potentially be a shoutout to Dan Harmon, creator of Community and Rick and Morty, the latter of which Loki showrunner Michael Waldron wrote on. Harmon is famous for constructing “story circles” to help young writers understand the proper beats of storytelling.

The final shot of a confused Loki looking at a massive (and mostly comics-accurate) Kang the Conqueror statue is definitely a reference to the ending of the original Planet of the Apes (a franchise which also has some wacky timeline shenanigans of its own) which gives us a huge twist by having the main character come across the Statue of Liberty and piece together the truth of his world. Then again, it could also fit with the Tim Burton remake where the protagonist comes across an ape version of the Lincoln Memorial.

There’s also a serious Invasion of the Body Snatchers vibe to that ending, with a dazed/crazed Loki trying to explain the impossible to a skeptical audience who clearly don’t believe him.

We wrote in more detail about all the implications of that ending right here.

The Post-Credits Scene

We can’t help but feel that the mid-credits scene that literally and explicitly spells out in actual words that Loki season 2 is happening is a meta-joke at the expense of sites like Den of Geek, who make a big deal out of “explaining” every Marvel post-credits sequence. To which we say…yeah, cool, fair enough!

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Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 6: MCU Easter Eggs and Comics References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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