#I’m back in my hunger game phase

[em-remi]

y’all i’m rereading the hunger games 🫢 why is peeta hot??? book peeta is so fucking hot wow

[ferrarifinnick]

JEALOUSY! | THE HUNGER GAMES HEADCANON

take an og hunger games headcanon while i’m in the middle of writing a one shot for jealous!finnick. get your headcanon (and other!) requests in while the inspiration is hitting lol. anyway, onto the main event. let me know what you think! feedback welcomed <3

includes: gale, katniss, finnick, peeta.

no warnings. sfw.

gale is more jealous than he is almost any other emotion. it doesn’t come from a distrust in you, but a distrust of other men. he knows how they talk about women in the mines, and even the happily married husbands like to talk dirty about the girls in the seam. if gale catches one of these men – or any man, for that matter – in conversation with you, his reaction will be impulsive and immediate.

he’s too stubborn to hide his ugly feelings, and he’s too immature to fight them. expect him to shamelessly interrupt your conversations, squint his eyes at friendly faces, clench his jaw until his teeth damn near turn to dust. he doesn’t care. and in his flurry of jealousy, he will not care to avoid causing a scene.

jealousy isn’t an emotion katniss experiences particularly often. this is partly because, like most of her feelings, it takes time to unscramble and understand them. but by the time she realises she was jealous, the moment’s already long gone.

but as her unscrambled feelings are hot and burning, she makes sure to use her cold shoulder to keep you at bay. short, one word answers are used in place of spitting fire at you. and while she regrets treating you this way after the feeling passes, you better not hold your breath expecting this to change any time soon.

finnick is many things, and sometimes jealous is one of them. but what finnick isn’t is blind. he knows what he has is wanted by everyone, and what everyone wants is you. he’s used to people fawning over you just as much as he’s used to people fawning over himself, and he isn’t about to shame people for having taste.

when you’re in the sights of one or maybe a dozen admirers, finnick likes to sneak over and join those vying for your attention. he’ll keep his lips shut for a little while, hiding in plain sight, but at some point he’ll lean into the side of one of the men and say, “isn’t she something?” with that famous cocky grin of his. the wide eyes of recognition don’t phase him. if anything, they frustrate him. he’ll wave a hand and say, “what are you staring at me for?” before refocusing the attention back on you. he’ll lean back against the same guy, arm wrapped warmly over his shoulders and say, “oh! tell her she has pretty eyes. she likes that one.” he’ll hold your gaze, cheeky grin firmly in place despite the squirming men around him.

peeta’s a pacifist. but more importantly, he is polite. so when he lets go of your waist for one second to get a glass of champagne at a party, only to return a moment later to a man chatting your ear off, he’ll do what he always does. he’ll bottle it up.

he’ll wrap his arm around your waist again, keep up the conversation, but something in his smile will feel ever so slightly out of place. a small eye twitch, a tightness in his lips. no matter how small, you’ll catch it, and when the mystery man eventually walks away, you’ll wait for peeta to inevitably bring him back up. he’ll say something innocent, like “so, he seemed pretty eager to talk to you, huh?” and when you don’t bite, he’ll try to ignore the urge to bring his name up again.

but like clockwork, he’ll wait a couple of beats and before the next song starts, he’ll say, “i just think it’s funny how he waited to talk to you until the second i turned my back…”

why is jealousy so hot? can science explain? like, comment, reblog. love <3

[alltimecharlo]

welllll since you’re in an inexperienced mack phase… perhaps an inexperienced, flustered mack after their first kiss fic for the masses? 🤲🏻

absolutely!! cute prompt :)) fic under the cut!!🩵

Mack has never felt his heartbeat in his ears like this before.

He’s sitting on the edge of Will’s bed, hands braced on the comforter, breathing like he just came off a penalty kill. The room smells like laundry detergent and the faint citrus from Will’s shampoo—clean things, familiar things—but everything feels wrong now. Or maybe too right. Maybe too much.

Will is standing across the room, not far really, but it feels like miles. His mouth is still pink. His eyes are soft. And Mack can’t even look at him without his entire body locking up like someone’s fired a puck straight into his chest.

“So…” Will says, and his voice is light. Tentative. “That just happened.”

Mack makes a strangled noise. Not a word. Just sound. Embarrassment, mostly. He rubs both hands over his face like that’ll make him disappear.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters behind his palms. “What the fuck was that?”

Will doesn’t answer right away. Mack risks a glance through his fingers and finds Will smiling—nervously, but real.

“I mean… I think it was a kiss,” Will says. “Pretty sure.”

Mack drops his hands. “No shit.”

“Just checking.”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? It was a kiss. A kiss. Between them. Between best friends. Between two guys who’ve been practically living in each other’s pockets since training camp. Mack’s still wearing Will’s hoodie, for god’s sake.

He touches his bottom lip. It tingles. He doesn’t even know who moved first. Doesn’t know what made it happen. Just that one second they were sitting too close watching game tape, arguing about faceoffs, and the next—well. That.

“I didn’t mean to,” Mack blurts out, panic rising like a tide.

Will’s face falls. “Oh.”

“No—I mean, I didn’t plan to. I wasn’t—fuck, I didn’t think—”

Will steps forward. Just a bit. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Mack says, and now he’s standing too, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “You’re my roommate. We play on the same fucking line. I can’t—I can’t be the guy who ruins that.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“You don’t know that.”

Will bites his lip. Watches him carefully. “Do you regret it?”

Mack stops dead. Blinks. “What?”

“The kiss,” Will says softly. “Do you regret it?”

That shouldn’t be a hard question. Mack’s whole body is vibrating with confusion, heat still pooled in his chest like it hasn’t figured out where to go yet. But regret?

“No,” he says finally, like it’s been torn out of him. “No. I just… I didn’t know it was gonna feel like that.”

Will steps closer. “Like what?”

Mack’s breath catches. He looks at Will and he sees the problem—the reason none of this can be ignored anymore. He’s beautiful. Ridiculously, unfairly beautiful. And Mack wants him like something primal. Like hunger.

“Like my brain short-circuited,” he says helplessly. “Like you pressed a button and I forgot how to be a person.”

Will’s face splits into a grin, and Mack groans. “Don’t smile at me like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll do it again.”

The smile softens. “Is that so bad?”

Mack turns away, rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… not with a guy. Not with anyone, really. Not seriously.”

Will’s voice is gentle. “Me neither.”

That surprises him. He turns back. “Really?”

Will shrugs. “I mean, I’ve kissed people. But this? This feels… different.”

Mack swallows hard. “Yeah. It does.”

There’s a pause. The air between them feels suspended—thin, high-stakes. Will takes another step closer, slow and careful like he’s approaching a wild animal.

“I’m not expecting you to know everything,” he says. “I’m figuring it out too.”

Mack watches him. Watches the way his hands hang loose at his sides, no pressure, no threat. Just offering.

“I just know I wanted to kiss you,” Will says. “And I’d like to do it again. When you’re ready.”

Mack closes his eyes. Breathes out through his nose. He feels too warm in his skin, nerves frayed and humming. But underneath it—under all the panic and confusion—is something softer. Something terrifying in how good it feels.

“Do you wanna sit?” Will asks quietly.

Mack nods. They sit.

It’s quiet for a minute. Just the hum of the heater and the sound of someone walking past in the hall. Mack’s fingers twitch against the comforter. Then—

“Was it bad?” he asks suddenly. “The kiss.”

Will laughs. “No. It was really fucking good.”

“Oh.” Mack swallows. “Okay. Cool. Same.”

Will bumps their shoulders. “You’re cute when you panic, you know.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I will absolutely keep saying that.”

Mack groans. “God, I kissed you and now you’re gonna bully me about it?”

Will leans in, voice low and teasing. “You kissed me twice. You went back for seconds.”

Mack buries his face in a pillow and screams.

Will’s laughter fills the room.

They don’t kiss again that night, but Mack falls asleep with his heart pounding and Will’s hoodie still clinging to his skin, and a thought he’s too scared to name just yet curling quietly in his chest:

He wants there to be a next time.

♡

[veritymoon]

this year is dragging me back into my hunger games phase and i’m not mad about it

(detail below)

[harrysfolklore]

Can you please, pretty pretty please do another Zendaya one??

fake social media

okay i’m kinda nervous bc this is the first time i post for someone who’s not harry so HI i do social media au blurbs and i hope you like this one i did for tom 🥲 let me know your thoughts and send in requests if you have any !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by hunterschafer, tomblyth and 5,119,083 others

yourinstagram Thank you so much @vogueitalia for having me 🤍 Interview out tomorrow

view all 36,196 comments

ynfan1 STUNNING

alexademie ❤️⭐️!!!

ynfan2 models should be glad she chose acting as a career

dualipa MOTHER 🤍

ynfan3 i wonder what kind of tea she spilled on the interview

tomblyth ❤️

↳ tomfan1 HELLO?

↳ tomfan2 ariana what are you doing here

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 302,922 others

enews We’re losing our minds over this new Hollywood romance. 🥹 Link in bio to see how YN hard launched their relationship (📸: Getty)

view all 5,027 comments

tomfan1 OMFGGGG

ynfan1 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE

tomfan2 NOOOO 💔

ynfan2 “my love life has always been private but this time just feels right to let the world know” NO I CANT MY HEART

↳ tomfan3 DYING

liked by rachelzegler, yourinstagram and 502,826 others

tomblyth Sneak peak at our inconspicuous movie about 2 totally chill birdwatchers with no emotional damage whatsoever… 😏

view all 6,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHHHHHHHH

ynfan1 this movie is going to be so good

hunterschafer ❤️

tomfan2 THE SLAY OF THE CENTURY

ynfan2 okay now i get yn

yourinstagram Those are my babies 🤍

↳ ynfan3 we love a supportive girlfriend

↳ tomfan3 i’m definitely not jealous

liked by ynfan1, tomfan1 and 6,927 others

tomupdates Tom and YN in Los Angeles today !

view all 509 comments

tomfan1 STOP THIS

ynfan1 WELL

tomfan2 AHHHHHH

ynfan2 people who don’t support this relationship are so lame bc look at them

tomfan3 she visited him on set 👀

liked by hunterschafer, yourinstagram and 511,028 others

tomblyth Come back to the beginning of the games with us @songbirdsandsnakes

view all 6,919 comments

tomfan1 AHHH OMG

ynfan1 what a time to be alive

rachelzegler YES !!!

songbirdsandsnakes We are SO there! ❤️

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD MY LOVE 🤍🤍

↳ ynfan2 AHHHHHH

↳ tomblyth I love you ❤️

↳ tomfan2 I JUST DIED DEAD

liked by tomblyth, sza and 5,287,209 others

yourinstagram Exciting things coming

view all 37,028 comments

ynfan1 SAY SIKE

tomfan1 she’s dating my man i can’t

hunterschafer they’re not ready

↳ ynfan2 SPILL THE BEANS

ynfan3 the way this could literally be anything

tomblyth Gorgeous ❤️

↳ tomfan2 im still in the denial phase btw

FANS VIA TWITTER

//

liked by tomblyth, oliviarodrigo and 6,927,019 others

yourinstagram CAN’T CATCH ME NOW from @songbirdsandsnakes will be out today. The film and the rest of the soundtrack are out November 17th. Thank you to sweet angel @oliviarodrigo for writing this song and letting me sing it, this is so special to me 🤍

view all 76,207 comments

ynfan1 OMFGGGGG

mtv Our skin is clear. Our grades are all A’s. This is exactly what we needed

ynfan2 SINGER YN IS SO ALIVE

tomfan1 OHHHH LORDDDDD

hunterschafer ❤️❤️❤️😭

tomfan2 she 🥹 did this 🥹 for tom 🥹

ynfan3 the things she does for love i guess bc i thought she was allergic to studios

tomblyth So proud of you 🤍

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF CRY

↳ yourinstagram Wouldn’t have done with without your encouragement 🥺

↳ ynfan4 IM MELTING

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tomblyth HG film dump. Just some of the many people I love who breathed life into this movie. @songbirdsandsnakes opens tomorrow 🤍

view all 7,022 comments

tomfan1 CRYING

rachelzegler See you on the big screen 🙌🏻

ynfan1 i can’t wait to see it omg

yourinstagram SUPER PROUD ❤️ I love you !

↳ ynfan2 AHHH SO CUTE

↳ tomfan2 that should be me

tomfan3 i was here before hunger games

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yourinstagram TBOSBAS is on theaters now and all I can say is that I love every single human being involved in it and I’m so proud of them 🤍 Oh and thank you for all the support for Can’t Catch Me Now, you make me all mushy 🥲

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ynfan1 AWEEEEEE

tomfan1 LOOK AT MY BABY

rachelzegler We love you sweet angel ! Having you on set was a blast❤

↳ ynfan2 MY BABIEEEEES

tomfan2 WE NEED MORE TOM BTS CONTENT

ynfan3 okay can we get a full album now

↳ yourinstagram I only release music for special occasions 🤍

↳ tomfan3 AHHH SHE DID IT FOR TOM

tomblyth Thank you for being my rock and bringing me bagels, I love you honey ❤

↳ tomfan1 OH TO BE CALLED HONEY BY TOM

↳ ynfan1 i'm melting

liked by harryfan1, ynfan1 and 409,299 others

people Our favorite off-screen couple has arrived to the #BalladOfSongbirdsAndSnakes premiere ! Link in our bio for more pictures.

view all 21,065 comments

tomfan1 AHHHHH I CANT

ynfan1 they're matching my heart

tomfan2 THEIR RED CARPET SLASH PREMIERE DEBUT

ynfan2 yn is such a supportive girlfriend tom is so lucky

↳ tomfan3 they're so lucky to have each other 🥺

INTERVIEWS BY TOM AND THE CAST DURING THE PREMIERE

//

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tomupdates Tom and YN at the TBOSAS premiere ! 🥺

view all 822 comments

tomfan1 AHHHH

ynfan1 i can’t take their cuteness anymore

tomfan2 i’m so damn jealous ngl

ynfan2 WHIPPED

tomfan3 i’m bisexual bc of them

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yourinstagram Snow lands on top. The man of the hour

view all 78,019 comments

ynfan1 AHHHHH

tomfan1 SO TRUE IT BOY

hunterschafer Love you both 🤍

ynfan2 she’s down horrendousss omg

tomfan2 i get her if tom was my boyfriend i would post pics of him all the time

tomblyth I love you so much ❤️

↳ tomfan3 WHAT IF I CRY

↳ ynfan3 they’re equally down bad

liked by yourinstagram, rachelzegler and 1,002,109 others

tomblyth Dream girl ❤️

view all 21,299 comments

tomfan1 NO WAY

ynfan1 IM CRYING

alexiademie 💘⭐️

ynfan2 ahhh this is what she deserves

tomfan2 tom is such a soft boyfriend i could cry

yourinstagram 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️

↳ ynfan3 they’re endgame i swear

[mumms-the-word]

Gale's Netherese Orb

The Condition and Symptoms

You asked for it! You're getting it! Yet another deep dive, this time about Gale's orb functioning as a chronic impairment/disability and the ways that a cure is dangled in front of him and even withheld from him.

Disclaimer: a lot of this has already been discussed by lore-wizards like galedekarios or mezzziah and some information is going to come from actual-lea's wild playthrough of the Gale Origin where they didn't give him any magic items just to see what would happen (which I recreated quickly in my own game to gather screenshots and gifs of my own). I'm not going to tag any of them because I don't want to bother them, but if you want even more lore, you can and should check them out!

We're going to look at Gale's orb "condition" in three phases: the effects of the orb on Gale's body itself, the ways that he has to treat it, and the potential cure for the orb. Because my deep dives always get a little out of hand, I’m splitting this into 3 posts. So you can take and leave whatever you like, but I'll link the masterlist to all 3 parts here once I have them posted!

But without further ado, let's deep dive!

I've said before that Baldur's Gate 3 is ultimately a game about cure—finding a cure for ceremorphosis, specifically. Every companion is facing a (potentially lethal) forced transformation into a squid creature in seven days or less unless they find a cure. At least, that's what they think before they realize that their tadpoles are special. On top of that, several characters, including Gale, especially Gale, are also dealing with additional chronic conditions that they wish to cure.

Let's set aside the search for the tadpole cure for a minute and focus on Gale—his character arc, his goals, even the text for his questline. The moment that Gale steps out of his pod on the nautiloid, he has a twofold goal: find a way to cure or treat the hungering orb in his chest and find a way to cure or stop ceremorphosis, in part because turning into a mind flayer may destabilize the orb, thus making the orb the bigger or more significant problem for Gale personally.

In other words, on two fronts, Gale's entire plot is concerned about curing a chronic, potentially lethal condition (or two), but the orb is the bigger issue between the two. Turning into a mind flayer is one thing, turning into a cataclysmic explosion that could "level a city the size of Waterdeep" is another.

The Wizard of Waterdeep Objectives - Escape the nautiloid I was an archmage - powerful, proud, full of potential - until my failed attempt to impress my lover, the goddess Mystra, left me with a volatile 'orb' of Netherese-corrupted Weave in my chest. Keeping it stable is difficult at the best of times...and these are far from the best of times. I've been abducted by mind flayers, infected with one of their tadpoles. So far the orb appears unaffected, but I can't count on that for long. I need to get back to Faerûnian soil before it begins to hunger.

Despite being infected by illithid tadpoles, Gale's larger concern is that staying in the hells will make feeding the orb difficult. When he gets off the nautiloid, he's worried that turning into a mind flayer will completely destabilize the orb. It's his primary concern and will continue to be so throughout the game.

Narrator: Despite your recent fall from the nautiloid, you are miraculously unharmed. Apart from the volatile orb of Netherese magic buried within your chest, of course. It stirs softly. Soon it will hunger, and when that time comes it must be fed. Starve it, and you risk triggering a cataclysmic explosion of raw, unfettered Weave. Such an explosion will be unavoidable, if the tadpole in your skull triggers ceremorphosis. An outcome definitely best avoided.

So, yeah, the squid thing is a problem, but Gale is definitely more concerned about exploding. But exploding and "hungering" aren’t the only things the orb does to his body.

I’m going to break down the actual condition into three smaller segments: the words Gale uses to talk about his condition, the physical effects that Gale describes happening to him, and the mechanical gameplay effects. I’ll talk more about the actual “hunger” of the orb in part 2 when I talk about its treatment, in part because the hunger and the treatment are both magical effects and are intrinsically linked. But for now, let's start with a look at how Gale talks about the orb.

Call it a Condition

To start off, Gale describes having the orb in his chest along the same lines that people might discuss chronic impairments or chronic illness. It's not a minor "issue" or a "problem" that is disconnected from Gale's body and physical/mental health; instead, he calls it a "condition," a "malady," and even a "chronic impairment." He couches the condition in terms that evoke illness and unwellness.

Gale: You see, I have this...condition. Very different from the parasites we share, but just as deadly. Player: What kind of condition? Gale: The specifics are rather personal, but suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. Player: (Durge) You also feel disgust by how life, miserable as it is, insists of persisting in this most wretched world? / (Tav) Is it contagious? Gale: No, no - nothing like that. Though if I fail to treat it then the consequences would not be contained to me alone. Player: Can it be cured? Gale: No, it cannot be cured. And I assure you I've left no page unturned in reaching that conclusion. I can keep this condition under control, as indeed I've done for a significant amount of time, but that was under different circumstances altogether. Home, in Waterdeep. What it comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.

Player (Ranger): I think I might have a dock leaf in my bag, or some medicinal berries... Gale: Thank you for the offer, but the treatment for my condition is very specific.

Gale: The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence.

In Gale's first conversation with the player about the orb, which is where all of the above comes from, he uses language related to illness and chronic pain/impairment to discuss the orb. It's a "condition," it is a "malady" that requires "treatment," it is a "chronic impairment," and so on.

Generally, at first, he speaks lightly about it and even continues to joke about his condition ("my tower in Waterdeep has never been so free of clutter" and so on), but the reality is he's underplaying the actual physical toll it takes on his body. When you ask him what happens if he doesn't consume any artifacts, he'll briefly describe some symptoms to you that aren't obvious to the player character. Which brings us to...

The Physical Symptoms

This is how he describes the initial physical symptoms of the orb's hunger:

Gale: I'll spare you the finer details, but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long...catastrophe.

In other places, we see the orb's hunger/pain also affecting his ability to think clearly, suggesting he's experiencing a kind of brain fog or concentration issue, plus general discomfort, and a feeling like something is gnawing at his insides, as seen in various lines below.

Gale: You'll have to speak slowly. I'm finding it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten. Gale: Somehow the second artefact hasn't had the effect of the first. It's somewhat relieved the discomfort, but I fear my hunger hasn't quite... Ahh...* Gale: But... this doesn't feel quite right... It never feels right, but it relieves. This doesn't relieve... Ahh...* *devnote: Near the end of the line he's in discomfort, in pain

This is all from the second artifact conversation, when you give him the second item to try and feed the orb's hunger (the last line is a lower approval/you've-been-begrudging-about-items kind of line, so he's still being closed off with you). When you hear these lines in the game, he's obviously speaking with discomfort and with difficulty, as if trying to string words together despite the pain. His little comments as you travel with him/as him while he is dealing with arcane hunger also reference weakness, pain, and concentration issues.

- I'm feeling rather unsteady... - Deep breaths, Gale. Hold it together. - I'd be rather enjoying this journey, were I not wracked with pain. - One step in front of the other, Gale. - Ugh, I feel rotten. devnote: Slightly pained/struggling with a constant ache (the orb is negatively affecting him, causing him pain. Prompt is to remind the player that Gale is unwell.) [mumm's note: there are other lines as well, beyond these, and Gale will say them at random, so there's no progression into better or worse. This is just a sample of the lines.]

Given everything so far, I suspect the pain he feels is a combination of heart/chest pain, like one might feel during an anxiety attack, a POTS flare-up, or even a heart attack, while the gnawing sensation could be like hunger cramps (or any other internal cramping, though I think for Gale it feels higher up in his body than in his stomach, given the orb's location).

I highly suspect the orb is feeding off of not only his magic, but his body as well. We know it feeds off his magic specifically (more on this in the other two parts, especially because this detail doesn't come to light until Gale meets with Mystra). But given the pains and the way he frames his condition as a state of deterioration, it's likely that it's also feeding off energy stores and other biological/physical elements of his body, not unlike how extreme hunger can cause your body to essentially eat itself—your fat stores first, but eventually even your muscle tissues and other vital tissues.

(I've seen someone suggest this is why Gale has "dehydration state" chiseled abs like movie stars have because the orb is literally eating away at his fat/energy stores and so on. It's a compelling theory!)

The orb also weakens him, likely causes massive fatigue, and even seems to be draining his "spirit" or his mental capabilities. We see this in descriptions of Arcane Hunger (which are below). It's a wonder this man can put one foot in front of the other if the pain is particularly bad.

In addition to all the other physical symptoms, the orb itself has physically scarred his body with the marking on his chest, which is also bruising pretty significantly (though this "bruising" could just as likely be dark-colored magic just beneath his skin, your headcanon/mileage may vary).

Photo credits: @elspethdekarios, though I cropped them down for this deep dive

If you click on the images and zoom in, you can see how the markings have a bit of depth and texture to them, as opposed to the flat lines of a tattoo. The lines are carved into his skin. Certain lighting will also make the mark look darker or lighter, and make the bruising at the center faint or noticeably dark. There are some theories that the bruising gets worse as the game goes on, but I think it's just a lightning issue (though it would be interesting if the bruising gets darker with each new level of arcane hunger, or something to that effect).

Lastly, and I'll discuss this more in part 2, even when the orb does not actively pain Gale, it "stirs." Other references from the narrator reveal that the orb "shudders" or "prickles" within him. Gale can feel the movement of the orb inside his body, possibly like a weird fluttering or vibration in his chest. It's likely why, even when he isn't actively hungering, he'll put his hand over his chest and adjust his shoulders, as if reacting to a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation within his chest.

Anyway, long story short, the physical symptoms of dealing with the hungering orb are:

Biological deterioration (like hunger, the body consuming itself, muscles weakening, etc)

Muscle spasms

Disorientation

Ringing in the ears

Difficulty concentrating/brain fog/mental fatigue

Cramping and/or chest pain

General discomfort and pain

Physical fatigue/feelings of weakness

Scarring and bruising from the orb itself

A sensation of the orb "stirring" even when not painful

And this man will joke about it.

Honestly, his ability to joke and discuss his condition with humor is a sign to me that he really is experiencing and thinking of the orb the same way people with chronic conditions think about their pain or illnesses. At the start of the game, Gale's condition is incurable—Gale says as much himself that it "cannot be cured." It can only be managed, treating the symptoms and diminishing the pain, rather than completely eradicating the impairment. Gale likely has a new scale for pain, the same way people with chronic pain do. A "bad day" for him would likely end most healthy, normative people in a clinic hoping for some prescription pain medication, whereas he will just grit his teeth and keep going. In short, saying that the orb is a "chronic impairment" is a bit of an understatement, and I don't think people realize just how much Gale is/acts like a person dealing with real-world chronic pain or chronic illnesses.

Gale is used to this pain, though he certainly isn't enjoying it. Have you ever persuaded him to wait before giving him a magic item? If your persuasion is high enough (and he likes you), he'll give a cheery "of course!" even though treating the pain is obviously the preferable path here. When he reminds you of his need for an item, as with the "teething displacer kitten" line or the "My condition likes being ignored as much as I do," he still conveys these lines with a mix of urgency and dark humor. He's dealt with this condition for a year or more. You might be testing his tolerance by withholding items, but he's not going to let on just how badly he's actually feeling.

This is the man who will uncomfortably laugh and say "Gods, this is bloody uncomfortable," while the orb in his chest is running a high-grade POTS flare-up and consuming his innards. That's what we call an understatement, Gale. He could complain a lot more, and far more loudly, but he's actually keeping it quite restrained, as people with chronic pain often tend to do.

So anyway, if you ever hear anyone complaining that Gale complains about his magic orb condition too much, ask them how much they'd like walking around with heart-attack symptoms for a few hours at a time. But let's move on!

The Gameplay Effects

Now that we know what the orb does to Gale narratively, what does his condition do to him mechanically in the game? Because, unlike with Karlach's unstable engine or Shadowheart's incurable wound (other examples of chronic pain/disability in the game), the game adds actual debuffs to Gale's character that can affect gameplay and battles. Therefore, leaving Gale disabled with pain also, in effect, disables the player's ability to play the game (or at least hampers it).

In the game, there are three stages of Arcane Hunger. Most people generally don't go beyond the first stage, because why would you let Gale walk around with a debuff of any kind if you have a locket of dancing lights you'll never use? But if you continue to ignore him (or, if you're playing as Gale, and willfully choose not to consume any items) then the Arcane Hunger will progress to Greater and Severe Arcane Hunger, bringing even more serious debuffs to his character.

Arcane Hunger - Condition Gale's spirit is being drained. He has disadvantage on Constitution Saving Throws. Greater Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. Severe Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is severely weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. His movement speed is halved.

Casual reminder that Constitution Saving Throws generally affect concentration, which is needed to maintain spells that last for more than one turn. This goes back to Gale's concentration/mental fatigue when he's initially hungering. When the hunger progresses, however, Gale is physically weakened and the game makes it so that he's more likely to fail savings throws or attacks.

Trying to normally play as Gale with these debuffs is basically an exercise in resigning yourself to missing attacks frequently and failing literally every saving throw (this includes disadvantage on saving throws in dialogues as well). He's still playable, since Magic Missile never misses and you can work with spells that deal damage even when an enemy passes their saving throw, but he becomes even more of a glass cannon than ever. If he's not at the back of a fight, he goes down pretty quick.

Once you hit Severe Arcane Hunger (which I hit after only 6.5 hours of rushed gameplay, though you could probably hit it sooner if you were zooming through a bit faster than me) you're also forced to walk everywhere. Gale's movement speed is halved. The distance he can move in a single turn is drastically shorter than usual, and his speed is no faster than a casual walk. Anyone who has tried to move while encumbered knows this same walking speed debuff.

So the game literally takes Gale's chronic impairment and makes it disabling to both him AND you controlling him. No one really wants to play the entirety of BG3 at a walking pace, after all, so it forces you to make a decision—will you finally treat Gale's condition, or will you grit your teeth and bare it, like Gale does with his pain (though it's nowhere near close to the same levels of discomfort).

Typically a companion Gale will just leave if you refuse to give him any items and he progresses to the stage where he's at Severe Arcane Hunger. But if you play as Origin Gale, you can keep playing with Severe Arcane Hunger until, well, his condition literally paralyzes him and then he withers away, apparently dying of necrotic damage from the orb (I’m assuming here, because the log doesn’t specify what damage causes Gale to wither away, and he exudes a necrotic damage aura once he’s dead, which happens whenever he dies anyway).

Gale withered away. Gale lost Condition: Gale is Paralysed. Gale received Condition: Gale is Paralysed. [mumm's note: obviously this is listed in reverse order, because Gale becomes paralyzed and then withers away]

It appears that if left untreated, Gale’s biological deterioration reaches a point that it literally shuts his body down completely, and then he just...dies. I imagine that physically the orb has eaten away at so many of his vital tissues, including his internal organs, that everything just sort of ceases to function. He's corrupted from the inside out, and nothing but death and a quick resurrection can reverse those effects.

It's worth noting that if you choose to do this experiment with Origin Gale and don't feed him a single magic item, then Elminster won't be waiting for you to arrive in the Mountain Pass or just outside the Shadow Cursed Lands if you travel through the Underdark. Since Gale hasn't been managing his symptoms, he hasn't realized that the various items he's consuming aren't having any effect. Therefore, he isn't actively looking for a new solution to treat the symptoms. Since he isn't looking, I guess Elminster never thought to make himself available with the new solution?

Honestly, why Elminster doesn't show up is kind of a mystery. Gameplay-wise, I assume it's that Gale's quest didn't progress enough to trigger the game flag that would spawn Elminster. But lore-wise or narratively, it doesn't make sense. Mystra sends Elminster with both a command and a temporary "cure," so is she just waiting until Gale realizes his symptoms can no longer be managed? No idea. Maybe I'll explore it more in Part 3.

Anyway the point is that when an untreated Gale reaches Moonrise without talking to Elminster, the game (and his condition) shuts him down. When you revive him at camp, Elminster conveniently appears to give him Mystra's command to sacrifice himself at the Heart of the Absolute and stabilizes the orb at last.

But there's a catch.

Elminster Aumar: A shame that we did not cross paths sooner. The orb's thirst for magic is now quenched, yet it already inflicted some damage while you tried to forge ahead. The ill effects may linger, I'm afraid. Not enough to hamper your mission, I hope.

I believe this can also happen with a companion Gale, but I'm not sure about the specific parameters of triggering this. Regardless, as actual-lea has observed in their No Gale Dinner experiment, if Gale has regular Arcane Hunger then Elminster stabilizes the orb and all is well, but if he has Greater or Severe Arcane Hunger, then the damage the orb does to his body becomes irreversible. After Elminster stabilizes the orb, in this scenario, Gale is left with a permanent "Arcane Hunger" debuff, the same as the above, where he suffers disadvantage on constitution saving throws. This time, you can't consume items to make it go away, and nothing will cure the debuff. Gale just permanently has it for the rest of the game.

(It's worth noting that you can also kill Elminster while he's talking with Gale, thus preventing him from stabilizing the orb with his magic and from telling Gale he needs to sacrifice himself. This sort of breaks the narrative for Gale and results in some wonky dialogue chains that do and don't flag correctly, but the interesting outcome is that it means you can continue playing the game with Severe Arcane Hunger, which is now also a permanent debuff. You can consume magical items before the Elminster visit, but never after. Even if you kill him, you lose the ability to consume items, which means it is officially impossible to manage Gale's symptoms. You just have to deal with the halved walking speed and disadvantage on everything. And you can complete the game that way, if you have the patience! But it would be a very long game. I would know. I've done it and I was rushing like a maniac lol)

Anyway this is getting super long, so I'll end with a few wrap-up thoughts.

Final Thoughts

Having played as Gale with Severe Arcane Hunger for several hours in the game, I think Gale honestly downplays just how bad the pain and debilitating effects of his condition really are. As I was going through the evidence, I kept thinking about how there are so many different elements of pain, discomfort, fatigue, and general unpleasantness that are all part of Gale's everyday life. Even when the orb is stabilized or not actively hurting him, he likely still feels it moving in his chest and I imagine there are chronic effects that stabilizing the orb couldn't exactly cure, like lingering fatigue (and we wonder why Gale complains about his knees and wanting to take a rest and so forth).

Ookay the knees thing might be unrelated to the orb but I digress

Dealing with that much pain and internal corruption is a state of living that most people wouldn't want to stay in, and Gale is no exception here. He wants to stop the pain in his chest, just as much as he wants his former abilities and magical prowess to return. These things are connected, which I'll talk about in part 2. But without hope of a cure, Gale is forced to deal with his condition as a process of managing symptoms, creating a treatment plan that involves him consuming magic from magical items just to get a bit of relief.

But that, my friends, is where we'll pick up with Part 2 - The Hunger and the Treatment.

[tvangelique]

the west in common glory ✶

greetings. hello. hi. my name is solana . or tabby . [many other names said here] afro-asian. libra sun, pisces moon, capricorn rising. i was written by the cure and left in a time capsule. my mind is blown away by ancient history, you’ll find my awareness there, too.

sixteen . i go by she / her . a lesbian .. ? . i think ?? i like to kiss girls, and pretty boys when i’m half—aware of their masculinity ♡

frequently blogging : on a flip phone while on the coast of georgia

┊

i belong to creaky houses and holes in the walls. the universe in a physical form. a ton of physical forms. the universe has sparked me with the power of unpredictability and it’ll be a waste not to use it. barely online, i have the tendency to pop up and disappear until i’m on the other side of the country.

𝗁𝗆, 𝗁𝗎𝗆. favorite things .

my book. WOAH. so egotistical. i know. i’m autistic. (whomp whomp). i always give the advice to “write what you wanna read.”

i’m a daughter of cain, but i’m sure my profile screamed that already. given, i like the countryside (speaking as someone who’s lived there. twice!!!!), i like humid spring nights & biblical allegories

ancient rome captivated me. not too long ago, i happened to be in history, mourning julius caesar like he had laid across my own arms. i love gothic literature (interview with the vampire!!!! my beloved!!!), perhaps one day, i’ll touch up on yellowjackets .. and hannibal .. and—am i missing anything else?

a good instrumental + layering background vocals for the second rendition of the chorus + lyrics that even semi — relates to my own personal multiverse ????? everything. a romance sub - plot that ends in tragedy. btw. i never understood romeo and juliet.

“ . . . i was young & sweet

and then something happened. ”

um. confession. i have no idea how to use letterboxd. come back in a month or. two. but until then. here are some things i rate 5 stars.

sinners : ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“ there has not been a day where the soundtrack has not blown my mind. i’m so serious. and that sequence.. if you know, you know. one of the best in modern cinema. such a thoughtful depiction of colonialism & the effects it has psychologically. and vampirism as a way to depict cultural assimilation into the majority.. just go watch the movie. ”

bones & all : ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“ watched this recently and lord. actually a comfort-film for all the wrong reasons. first off, i’m a sucker for any metaphor with cannibalism, but i love how this especially ties into addiction and generational trauma. also. maren is me. that’s all. ”

tabby core: maren, bones & all. jinx, arcane. elphaba, wicked. rue, euphoria. lucy gray, hunger games (apparently???? many people have told me this???). gretchen, mean girls. claudia, interview with the vampire. coraline.

shifting realities. okay. to give a bit of a backstory, i’ve always been a spiritual kid. i was seven ? — years old when i stumbled upon those youtube spells. say 3 mantras, end it with “ to mote it be ” run out the room to see if my dolls have truly moved on their own or not. i grew up on fairy truths, BDA (believe, dream, achieve) if anyone remembers them.

anyway, i was with my father one day when i’ve seen that they had posted a video, but it didn’t have the words my brain was familiar with—no. my mantras were replaced with music, and a 20 second video became three minutes. i had no idea what i happened to be looking at, but it continued. i discovered subliminals in 2018, which i used religiously,

then. boom. i saw that iconic video about a girl shifting to hogwarts. swapped the hogwarts phase out for a naruto one and a over exaggerated streamer dr that included more musical numbers than i’m willing to admit. anyways. trial and error. i’ve smelt vanilla when i was sure we owned no scented candles. and i’ve never tried again.

until a book fell on my lap and my need for praise told me to “deal with it.”

[nagiwrites]

Chapter Two: The Capitol’s Rules.

Characters: Caleb, you

A/n: I swear formatting on here is a job in itself. Anyways another chap is here if u wanna be tagged feel free to tell me. Also I’ll put content warnings for this fic.

☆ Content: body stripping and forced undressing, non-consensual physical contact, loss of bodily autonomy, mild nudity and humiliation, emotional distress, depersonalization and identity erasure, as well as themes of classism and systemic oppression.

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📌 Synopsis :

On the way to the Capitol, she learns the Games are more performance than survival. Caleb promises to protect her, but his motives remain unclear. Once inside, she’s stripped of her identity and remade for the Capitol’s stage—left feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

The hovercraft hummed through the sky, the engines too smooth, too quiet for something moving this fast. The tinted windows gave nothing away—just endless stretches of blue fading into the neon glow of the Capitol ahead.

The farther they got from District IV, the cleaner everything became. The shanty towns and dust-covered streets disappeared, replaced with pristine high-rises, gleaming transport stations, and well-maintained roads. This was the rich side. The part of the district that still belonged to the Capitol, where officials, Peacekeepers, and the privileged few lived untouched by hunger and fear.

She’d never been here before.

And she wouldn’t have time to take it in now.

Across from her, Caleb sat in perfect stillness, his hands resting against his knees. Not restrained, not worried. Like a man who chose to be here.

She still didn’t understand that.

Or him.

She leaned back, staring at the ceiling as she exhaled. “So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are you going to explain how this works, or are we just supposed to figure it out as we go?”

Caleb blinked once, slow and unreadable. “The Hunter Games?”

“No, the weather,” she said flatly. “Of course, the Games.”

A flicker of something—amusement, maybe—crossed his face before vanishing. He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture like this conversation was a negotiation. “There are three phases before the arena,” he said. “Training, evaluations, and interviews. All designed to entertain the Capitol before the real event.”

She frowned. “Training?”

He nodded. “Weapons, survival tactics, close combat. You’ll be assigned a score at the end of it. Higher scores mean more sponsors. More sponsors mean a better chance of making it past the first few days.”

She absorbed that, tapping a finger against her knee. “And the evaluations?”

Caleb’s gaze darkened. “Private sessions with the Gamemakers. They decide how dangerous you are.”

That made her stomach twist.

“And the interviews?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Propaganda.”

She snorted. “Figures.”

She expected him to leave it at that, but after a beat, he continued. “They want a story. Something they can sell to the people. Fear. Tragedy. Romance. It doesn’t matter as long as they can control it.”

She turned that over in her mind. The Games weren’t just about killing—they were about putting on a show. And the Capitol would twist every moment to fit whatever narrative kept the audience entertained.

Her fingers curled slightly. “And you?”

Caleb tilted his head. “What about me?”

She gestured vaguely. “You forced your way in. Which means you’re either my mentor, my handler, or some new Capitol experiment.”

He studied her, quiet for too long, before saying, “I’m here to make sure you survive.”

She didn’t know what to do with that.

Because there was something unsettling about the way he said it. Like it wasn’t just an objective. Like it wasn’t just duty.

Like it was personal.

She looked away first. Outside, the hovercraft was already descending, the glowing skyline of the Capitol stretching beneath them.

It was beautiful.

And it was a graveyard.

They were about to be thrown into a machine designed to tear them apart. And she still didn’t know why the man across from her had chosen to step inside it with her.

But one thing was clear.

Whatever his reasons, whatever he wasn’t saying—

Caleb wasn’t going to let her die.

And that might’ve been the most dangerous thing of all.

The hovercraft descended into the heart of the Capitol, the neon skyline shifting from a distant blur into something towering and suffocating. Buildings stretched high enough to disappear into the clouds, their sleek metal surfaces reflecting the glow of holographic advertisements. Bright screens displayed last year’s Hunter Games champion, a sharp-jawed boy dressed in golden armor, smiling like he hadn’t torn through twenty other tributes to get here.

The hovercraft docked on a landing platform that was too clean, too sterile. The moment the doors slid open, the artificial scent of processed air and something vaguely floral hit her nose. It smelled like a place that had never known real dirt, never known hunger or desperation.

Capitol attendants were already waiting—dressed in shimmering, impractical outfits, their skin airbrushed to perfection. She barely had time to get her bearings before one of them stepped forward, flashing a too-bright smile.

“Welcome, tributes! Right this way.”

She forced herself to move, stepping onto the platform with the same numbness she’d felt since the reaping.

Caleb was right behind her.

She didn’t know why she kept looking for him—why the solid presence of him at her back made her nerves settle instead of spike. But she did. And it unsettled her almost as much as the Capitol’s suffocating opulence.

A camera drone zipped in close, scanning them both, projecting their faces onto a screen above. The words DISTRICT IV TRIBUTES flashed beneath their images.

People in the town murmured. Some leaned forward, eager for a first look at this year’s new prey. Others watched with the detached amusement of people who would never have to step into the arena themselves.

She could already feel them assigning labels.

Would she be forgettable? A sacrifice? A tragic figure to cry over before the real show began?

And then there was Caleb.

They didn’t know what to do with him.

A colonel in the Games wasn’t normal. The murmurs grew louder, questioning. Whispering. A Capitol official in a crisp suit gestured for one of the attendants, eyes narrowing as he spoke.

She glanced at Caleb. “So… you really weren’t supposed to be here, huh?”

Caleb didn’t look at her, just kept walking forward. “No.”

The admission should’ve scared her. Instead, it made her pulse quicken for an entirely different reason.

The grand entrance of the Tribute Tower loomed ahead—a massive glass structure built solely to house the competitors before the Games. As they stepped inside, a holographic display of the Capitol’s logo shimmered above them, accompanied by a soft, artificial voice.

WELCOME, TRIBUTES. PREPARE FOR THE EXPERIENCE OF A LIFETIME.

She barely resisted the urge to scoff.

A set of attendants approached, separating her from Caleb in one swift motion.

“This way, dear,” one of them said, guiding her toward a long hallway lined with marble and gold trim. “We’ll get you cleaned up for the Opening Ceremony. You want to look your best, don’t you?”

She turned slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Caleb before they pulled him in the opposite direction.

For the first time, his gaze met hers fully.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.

Because something unspoken passed between them in that brief second.

Something that felt suspiciously like a promise.

Then the doors closed, and she was alone.

The hallway smelled like artificial roses and something chemical, a scent so sharp it stung the inside of her nose. Everything here was too clean, too polished, too perfect—designed for the people who had never known struggle, never worked their hands raw, never bled for something they couldn’t keep.

She hated it already.

The attendants guided her into a pristine white room, the walls smooth and seamless, as if they had been molded rather than built. A glass platform in the center illuminated as she stepped onto it, a soft chime sounding as an AI scanned her body.

“Preliminary evaluation complete. Commencing preparation process.”

The attendants wasted no time. Hands—cold, impersonal—pulled at her clothes, unfastening buttons, peeling fabric from her skin. She stiffened instinctively, her breath catching as they stripped her down without ceremony.

Her clothes, the last thing connecting her to home, were tossed into a disposal chute without hesitation.

Gone.

Just like that.

She was naked before she could process it, surrounded by strangers who didn’t even have the decency to pretend to care.

“Arms up,” one of them instructed. “We need to remove all the excess.”

She barely had time to ask what excess? before a warm, sticky substance was smeared over her legs, arms, and anywhere else the Capitol deemed unworthy.

Then came the ripping.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

It wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt—nothing compared to a deep wound or the ache of hunger—but it was the humiliation of it. The raw exposure. The way they talked over her, not to her, as if she were nothing more than a project being refined into something presentable.

Her skin burned by the time they were done, stripped raw under the bright lights.

Then came her hair.

One of the attendants examined it with a critical eye, fingers prodding at her scalp. “We’ll need to smooth this out,” she murmured, already reaching for a brush.

Her stomach twisted.

She clenched her fists. She knew what was coming.

The first pass wasn’t too bad, but the second—

A sharp pull.

Her scalp screamed in protest, her head yanked back as the attendant worked with mechanical efficiency, oblivious to the sharp sting radiating from each tug.

She held her breath.

Another pull.

Her fingers curled tighter.

She wouldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

But when they reached the knots at the base of her skull, ripping through them without care, the pain sent sharp pricks behind her eyes.

She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.

Silent. Unnoticed.

Just another thing for them to strip away.

“Almost done,” the attendant said cheerfully, as if she wasn’t yanking her head like a ragdoll. “You’ll look stunning for the ceremony!”

She wanted to tell them she didn’t care about looking stunning. That she didn’t want to be something pretty for the Capitol to admire before they threw her into the dirt.

But she stayed silent.

Because it didn’t matter.

It never did.

By the time they finished, her body felt foreign—smooth where it shouldn’t be, styled in a way that didn’t belong to her.

They wrapped her in a robe, soft and expensive, guiding her toward another room where stylists awaited.

As they led her forward, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective wall.

She looked like a stranger.

And she hated her.

By the time they were done with her body, they moved on to her hair.

She sat stiffly in a plush chair, the fabric too smooth, too foreign against her stripped-down skin. The stylists surrounded her like architects examining blueprints, their eyes sharp with calculation.

“We should straighten it,” one suggested, running a comb through her curls with far too much force.

“No,” another chimed in, twisting a section between their fingers. “Texture is in this year. Let’s enhance it.”

She exhaled slowly through her nose, already exhausted. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the pain of them yanking through her scalp, or the way they talked about her like she wasn’t sitting right in front of them.

At least this time, they weren’t completely careless.

The hands that worked through her hair now were more delicate, though not out of kindness. It was precision. They conditioned, softened, twisted each strand into something elegant, something that would look effortless but had taken painstaking effort to achieve.

When they finally stepped back, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her hair had been shaped into an intricate design, cascading down one side, threaded with delicate metallic strands that shimmered under the light. It wasn’t her, not really. But at least it wasn’t stripped away.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and turned away.

Then came the dress.

They led her to a display where rows of shimmering gowns hovered in the air, each one programmed with effects that reacted to movement. Some flickered like fire, others rippled like water, shifting colors as the fabric swayed.

“For the ceremony, you need to make an impression,” the lead stylist said, gesturing to the options. “The Capitol loves a tribute with presence.”

She barely heard them.

Her gaze had already landed on one dress, and something inside her cracked.

Her favorite color.

She didn’t even mean to laugh, but the sound burst out of her—loud, sharp, and broken.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she covered her mouth, shaking her head. “Of course,” she choked out. “Of course they’d have one in my favorite color.”

The stylists exchanged confused glances, unsure if she was amused or unraveling.

Maybe it was both.

She reached for the dress, fingers brushing over the material. It was smooth, impossibly soft, but beneath the surface, she could feel the embedded tech, ready to activate at a moment’s notice.

The fabric pulsed, reacting to her touch. A slow shimmer ran through it, the color deepening, shifting like liquid under moonlight.

It was beautiful.

It was ridiculous.

It was hers.

“I’ll take this one,” she said, her voice steadier now.

The stylists hesitated before nodding, pleased with her choice.

As they helped her into the gown, adjusting the fit, setting the effects to highlight every movement, she stared at herself in the mirror once more.

The stranger was still there.

But this time, beneath all the Capitol’s work, there was something else.

A flicker of her.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

By the time they finished preparing her, the weight of everything settled over her shoulders like an iron chain. The gown clung to her frame perfectly, its advanced fabric shifting ever so slightly with her movements, rippling like water under the bright artificial lights.

The color—her color—stood out against the cold, sterile surroundings.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

A set of attendants ushered her down a corridor lined with reflective panels, the sleek, high-tech design making it impossible to forget where she was. Every few steps, the floor beneath her pulsed, scanning her biometrics. The Capitol left nothing unchecked.

Then, the doors at the end of the hallway slid open, revealing a lavish waiting chamber.

And there he was.

Caleb.

She came to an abrupt stop.

He was already dressed for the ceremony, standing with the kind of stillness that made people uneasy. His uniform had been replaced with something undeniably designed to impress—black, sharply tailored, lined with faint streaks of silver that pulsed like slow lightning beneath the fabric. The effects were subtle, but when he moved, the suit seemed almost alive, shifting with the kind of controlled power that the Capitol adored.

Of course they’d make him look like a leader. A warrior.

But she didn’t care about that.

She only cared about the fact that he was here. That the Capitol had let him be here.

That he had forced his way into this nightmare right alongside her.

He looked up, his gaze landing on her immediately.

And then—something flickered in his expression.

Not surprise. Not admiration.

Something deeper.

Something unreadable.

She swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how ridiculous she must look. Dressed up like a doll, painted, polished, made into something more palatable for the audience that would soon be watching their every move.

His gaze swept over her once, calculating, before returning to her face. “You picked that?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What, does it offend you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Then, in a low, unreadable tone, he said, “No.”

Silence stretched between them.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected. A comment about the absurdity of it all? A reminder that they were about to be paraded around like showpieces before being thrown into a death match?

But he just kept looking at her, as if trying to decipher something she didn’t understand herself.

Finally, she crossed her arms. “Well? Do I look like a proper tribute now?”

Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You look like someone the Capitol won’t forget.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

Before she could decide, an official strode into the room, checking a holographic tablet before gesturing toward the exit. “You’re up next. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Her heart slammed once against her ribs.

This was it.

The first real moment where the world would see her. Where she’d step into the light, not as a district worker, not as a girl who had volunteered for a child she didn’t even know—

But as a tribute.

A piece in the Capitol’s game.

She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to move.

But just as she passed Caleb, his voice came low and steady, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Don’t let them define you.”

She turned slightly, meeting his gaze one last time before the doors opened—

And the world swallowed her whole.

A/n : thanks for reading maybe I’ll post more later in the night if I’m up but it’s a lot to have for format and edit this ngl. But I appreciate the likes feel free to repost with credits please.

Tags:

@mysticcollectionvoid

[sohoharlem]

A lot has happened since I was here.

Celebrity wise.

* Chris Evans got Married to Alba Baptista.

* Tom Hiddleston had a baby.

* Sebastian Stan left Instagram.

* Natalie Viscuso and Henry Cavill are still together.

* Sebastian Stan and Annabelle Wallis are still together. (that we know of)

* Tom Holland and Zendaya are still together.

* Matthew Perry passed away. Fuck.

* Taylor and Travis??

* Two Strikes? Actors and Writers. Waiting on Actors strike to end.

* Harry Styles and Taylor Russell!

* Channing Tatum and the gorgeous Zoë Kravitz are engaged!

* Sophie and Joe are over.

* The DCU is getting a reboot. Henry no longer Superman.

* Henry Cavill…Highlander!

* Thunderbolts is 4 months behind schedule because of the strike.

* MCU still struggling a bit with phase 4 forward. Robert Downey Jr rumored to make a return?

* What’s new with Pedro Pascal since Last of Us died down a bit? Is he still the internet’s boyfriend or has someone new taken his place?

* Deadpool 3 is coming.

* Who is watching the new Hunger Games and who used to be part of that fandom?

* Wanda is confirmed dead in the MCU. Thoughts, Elizabeth Olsen (mother) fans?

* Tina Turner and Tony Bennett passed away.

* Ariana Grande and Dalton split.

* Kylie Jenner and Timothee Chalamet

* How’s Ben Barnes and Julianne Hough doing?

* Is Nina Dobrev engaged yet?

* How is Olivia Wilde doing?

*How’s Anthony Mackie doing?

* Chris Evans also left Instagram?

* Blink 182 has a new album?? Have we gone back in time?

*Robert Pattinson is having a baby.

Did I miss anything? I’m sure I did. This was off the top of my head. If so, feel free to send in asks about it anyway. Catching up here!

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[spencer0o7]

I Love You

Johanna Mason x Reader

summary: after Johanna finally gets freed from the capitol after the 75th games, you visit her in the hospital.

warnings: mentions of wounds and bruises and ig a brief mention of Jo being hurt in the capitol

word count: 229

a/n: I’m very much back in my hunger games phase after reading the books for the first time lol enjoy 🫶🏽

You sit inside the hospital room in front of Johanna. She’s wounded and incredibly thin. Her hair’s been shaved. You reach forward to her unconscious body and softly rub her cheek. What have they done to you? You wonder. She stirs slightly in her slumber.

Her hand sits limply at her side. You take it in yours trying to feel the warmth you’ve always felt from her. You slowly bring your lips to her hand and give it a kiss.

Her face is littered with small cuts and bruises. Her face that you admire so much. The face that you go to when you feel it’s all too much. The face that makes it feel like it’s all worth it. The face that you love.

You rest her hand that’s intertwined with yours carefully under your chin.

“I love you Johanna.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it out loud. You know you’ve both felt it for a long time though. Her chest rises softly under her hospital gown. She might not have heard your confession of love but you don’t care. Your love for each other has been clear the whole time.

As the time goes by you stay with her. Your eyes start fluttering shut overcome by sleep. You stay there the whole night right by Johanna’s side.

Just as you will be forever.

[peachdues]

Peachy…I don’t know if you’ve read the Hunger Games series buttt…

I’m becoming mentally unstable waiting for my new book (Sunrise on the Reaping) to arrive and now my Hunger Games phase is coming back (it never really left) and AAAAHHHHHHHHHH

I HAVE NOT YET READ SUNRISE ON THE REAPING AND IM AFRAID TO

[findroleplay]

Hello all! As I’m currently reading Sunrise on the reaping, I have officially went back into my hunger games phase! I would love some RP’s on the fandom. I can do OC X OC or OC X CC and I do doubles! I hope to finish the new book by the end of the week! I write in discord and I write 2-4 paragraphs per response!

Characters I can play as:

Lucy grey

Finnick

Annie

Peeta

Prim

Lenore dove

Katniss

And more just ask and I will give it a try!

Characters I ask for:

Haymitch

Finnick

As far as OC X OC goes I will be playing a female OC and I pair her with both females and males!

If you are interested all I ask is that you be 18+ as I am 22F! Please leave a like and I will reach out to you ASAP! 🐍🩷

-

[colouredbyd]

oh and a few things before i forget,

1, that remus fic was AMAZING!! i usually don't really read cowboy fics but wow that was so good!! can't want to find time to read pt2

2, what's the inspo for the nightingale arena? i sorta visualize the clock layout from the 75th hunger games but the trees moving but not being trees sorta confuse me when i was first reading through it😭 like girl i need you to over explain the arena to the nitty gritty details pls😪

3, how was regulus able to initially volunteer for reader the first time when they're opposite genders? like since he volunteered, did they have to pick another girl to go in? or did they just have 2 boys go into the games that year😭

- 🦇

dalia analyses: The Nightingale Q/A + arena breakdown

a/n: yes, i used this as an excuse to yap non stop !!

first of all, i’m so glad you enjoyed the remus fic—especially since cowboy aus aren’t usually your thing! that means a lot. part two will be waiting for you whenever you’re ready to dive back into that messy little trio and their filthy-stained tension <3

now, onto your questions, which i absolutely loved:

The Nightingale Arena:

this question is probably my favorite to answer, not because it’s easy (it’s definitely not), but because it’s one of the most layered parts of nightingale—a structure that’s less of a location and more of a living, breathing antagonist.

for tone and imagery, the scene that truly inspired the visual was from the original snow white, where she runs into the enchanted forest. the trees bend toward her, clawing with branches, shadows stretching like fingers—dark, disorienting, alive. that’s the heartbeat of the nightingale arena; the trees move. this is a great visual!

you’re so right to note that it feels “clock-like” at times, but it’s not the same as the 75th arena from canon. that comparison is actually part of the misdirection. while i hint at a clock-like mechanism later on, the truth is far stranger and darker: it’s not a clock in form—it’s a clock in behavior!

the arena in nightingale was built not just as a death trap, but as a sentient battlefield—a kind of enormous, living organism functioning like a warped chessboard. in chapter of only blood remains, this realization crystallizes for the reader. she begins to understand that the forest around her isn’t just alive in a metaphorical sense. it’s aware, it adapts, and like any living thing, it can be pushed to its limits—and potentially killed.

the arena’s “clock” comes into play through timed shifts and escalating traps. rather than literal wedges like the 75th, each quadrant of the forest harbors a distinct threat, and the blood rain functions as the marker between “hours.”

every time the sky bleeds, it signals a new timeline, one where the arena becomes increasingly hostile. this “blood rain” doesn’t just fall—it contaminates every water source, rendering survival more brutal with each cycle. and with every hour, the traps intensify, the terrain mutates, and the very ground you stand on may betray you.

once the blood starts to fall, everything shifts.

let’s break that down:

the arena: breakdown

at first glance, it’s just a massive, endless forest. but beneath that surface, it’s a labyrinth of timed horrors. there are multiple danger zones woven around the central cornucopia, each of them connected to a phase in the arena’s “clock.” every time the blood rain comes, the traps intensify and the layout shifts—as we saw with the explosion scene that flipped the terrain like a maze. someone standing north could find themselves south ( which is how reader, dorcas, regulus, and evan lost each other)

there are roughly six distinct zones we’ve seen so far:

1. the haunted forest

a hallucinatory zone soaked in fog that dredges up memories and delusions. it’s psychological warfare—one that disorients and isolates; grief becomes a weapon.

2. the shack zone

a deceptively quiet quadrant lined with decaying wooden shacks. filled with poisonous flowers, grasping trees, and toxic stillness. survival feels easy here—until it doesn’t.

3. the wolf mutts

located directly beside the blood forest, and crucially: they only emerge after the blood rain begins. they’re engineered horrors—feral, fast, eerily human. their timing isn’t just mechanical—it’s ritualistic, like they��re drawn out by the blood itself.

4. the blood forest

the darkest part of the arena. pitch-black trees. unnatural silence. and yes—literal rain made of blood. the rain contaminates every water source, rendering survival harder with each passing hour. it’s the arena’s way of bleeding into the tributes, forcing them to drink from its veins.

5. the shifting zone

not a fixed area, but a mechanic triggered by explosive shifts. the arena rearranges its own layout mid-game. it’s chaos incarnate, and no map can keep up with it. its purpose is to disorient tributes so they land somewhere unknown; someone safe might end up in a danger zone.

6. the death eater trap (central cornucopia)

a capitol-engineered nightmare disguised as mercy. mid-Games, survival supplies are dropped at the cornucopia—but they’re surrounded by Death Eaters. we get little detail from the reader’s perspective, as she’s poisoned and delirious, but what we do know is enough: regulus goes-alone. and doesn’t return for hours. he fights through them—capitol agents masked as magic, brutality laced with strategy. it’s never clear what he sees there, only that he returns changed.

symbolically…

the arena becomes an extension of the Capitol itself: beautiful in form, monstrous in function. it seduces, traps, punishes. and the blood it spills isn’t just tribute blood—it’s its own. and when the reader realizes that—when she understands that the forest is alive—she also realizes that anything alive can die.

and so she sets it on fire.

-

once finals are over (pls send strength lol), i fully intend to try and draw the arena out, down to the cornucopia and its traps. same goes for regulus’s arena in the 65th games, which we haven't seen in fragments so far—but which plays a massive role in the story’s future. we know he was the youngest victor the capitol has ever seen, but we don’t yet know how he won. who else was there? was it rigged because of his last name? or were there alliances among the ancient houses that shaped the outcome? those are questions that will be explored in depth very soon.

3. volunteering rules

this is one of the more significant deviations between nightingale and the canon panem system. in this universe, i wanted the reaping structure to feel a bit older, darker—more rooted in the idea of legacy, politics, and manipulation rather than just population control.

i’ve been reading crimson rivers recently (pray for me) and one of my favorite things there is how their reapings run from ages 12 to 25, and how gender doesn’t matter. it inspired me to push my own system in a similar direction.

in nightingale, gender is not a restricting factor for volunteering. regulus was able to step forward for her because the system allows it—though it did result in the selection of two male tributes afterward, meaning that year’s games had an uneven gender ratio.

again, part of what makes this story’s world unsettling is how flexible the capitol is when it benefits them. if the audience is entertained, rules can bend. if a black son volunteers to sacrifice himself at age 14? even better. it’s propaganda dressed as mercy !!

a/n: nothing i love doing here more than yapping nonstop. truly, this dalia analyses series is self indulgent to the core !! 🦇i love you for giving me a chance to talk. i cant wait to see what more theories u have, and i hope this answered ur questions <333

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Call Me Yours

Sam Drake/Reader

You're going through a rough phase where you feel anxious and hurt but try to make it through each day as it comes. Then you happen to meet Sam.

Spoilers for all of Uncharted.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,949

on Ao3

“Seriously?” you ask out loud while staring at the texts you had sent to your so called boyfriend. You had sent more than a dozen, quite a lot but still not an amount that would be deemed crazy given that he had hurt you. Nothing from him, but you had called twice and all he had texted was I’m at work right now. You had asked when else to call and called twice after that, but again no answer. You remember the days when he always texted you back, when he tried to make up for things. What had happened? You had started to complain more and the more you put up with him not pulling his weight, the worse it all got. You look at the texts, then sent a final one. So this is how much I can rely on you. I am upset and you don’t even answer. I am glad you’re showing your true face now. You had been serious about each other for almost two years and you had given countless chances, way more than he deserved. You started wondering if you really resented him or yourself for allowing it.

For a while you sit there, overthinking, but then get up and pull over your coat, deciding to stock up on groceries, something you had to do anyway, well, besides laundry. There was always laundry to be done, it was never-ending. The chores actually helped with the fact that the person who called you their girlfriend was not there for you during this time when you needed it the most. But you did not want to bring up the memory, so you shake it off and walk out the door, turning the key inside the lock behind you.

The aisles of the grocery store seemed bland. You wondered if your appetite would eventually come back because when you worked a lot you munched like crazy. But right now you only ate when you could feel the hunger deep in your stomach. When you were in love it was like that too but that had been a long time. Was it even love, you wonder now, or were you just driven crazy by the anxious feelings of never being sure of it really being what you thought it was. It never quite felt like it and you had subconsciously carried that feeling around with you everywhere you went. From your coat’s pocket you grab the phone automatically, checking if there was any messages. Remembering his countless excuses the past weeks and months on why he was not checking his phone, wondering if he had someone else or if it was all just a game. Suddenly you feel the rush of a weight against you, something pushing the cart back towards you, your hands against the rail holding it tight in a reflex. “Oh, sorry there” A man in front of you that had just squeezed past the space between your cart and the shelf says, “Didn’t mean to-- you know” “Well don’t break it” you answer in a sober tone, half-sarcastically while you take a closer look at his face. He was a bit older than you but attractive. Brown eyes and the matching hair colour. Tall and in shape. The tone in his voice was pleasant. “Wasn’t my intention, I apologize” he counters, giving you a quick glance. “I’ll get you a brand new cart if you want. I mean from right there at the entrance of course.”

“Well now that’s very honourable of you, but it’s fine.” You answer quickly before even thinking things through, “You’re gonna give me your address for insurance and all?” “Oh I don’t have insurance.” he claims, half-proud, half-joking seemingly, a charming smile rushing over his lips. “You pay it all out of pocket?” you inquire, acting impressed. “Yeah. I inspire to be a man of great fortune.” he says with a genuine smile, a glimmer of hope and a little sadness in it, too. “Must be quite some fortune you’re after” you chuckle. He seemed pleasant. He reminded you of the encounters you had, but they all ended up as disappointments. “What can I say?” he asks, still facing you. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you.” you say in your default mode, trying to shake off the feelings. “Hey, you’re not keeping me. I’m the one who ruined your day running into your cart.” he insists. Your eyes light up a little when you hear it and you look at him for a moment. “You didn’t ruin my day at all. Not so far.” “Oh there’s still a chance to do so?” he asks. “If you try hard enough. I’d prefer you don’t.” He tilts his head and places his shopping basket on the floor before fumbling out his phone from his pocket. “Here, I’ll give you some insurance policy.” He hands you over the phone and you see the screen for adding a new contact. “What do you mean?” you ask but accept the phone from him. You knew he wanted your number but somehow it was still hard to believe. On the other hand, guys were like that in the beginning. “Just leave your number and I’ll make sure I got your back in case your cart breaks.” A sad smile comes upon your lips. “It’s alright.” you say, almost having to hold back the tears as you remember how these things usually go. “I’m not looking for anything. I mean, I’m not up for casual stuff. And, you know. Other things.” “Wait-- I’m just saying I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m not trying anything.” “Why would you?” you ask but see the puzzled look on his face, then repeat yourself. “Why would you make sure I’m okay?” He smiles a little before speaking up. “Because I want to.” Something in the firm yet gentle tone in his voice make you feel seen and heard, even though you spoke so little. “Well if you really don’t want to, you don’t need--” ”Okay.” You cut him off and type in your number and name, then save it as new contact. “Here.” “Thank you” he says, checks your name and calls you by it right after. “I’ll check up on you later. Get home safe, and be careful with that cart.” You smile out of politeness and raise your hand for a short goodbye, then let him go and remain in the aisle for fruit juices, alone as before. You remember how you waited for that boyfriend of yours to check up on you and he never did. You could hardly believe anyone would. Now that you stand there in the aisle you remember you had not even asked the stranger's name. You walk towards the end of the aisle, peek over to see if he was still around but cannot find him. You decide to try to forget it. Nothing came of it anyway, that was just how things usually went. At least you had your peace now, or so you tried to tell yourself.

Once your groceries were unloaded and stored in the fridge and kitchen shelves, your hand found its way to your phone on its own again. It had been more than a day, the messages you sent were delivered, he must have answered by now. Your lock screen lights up as you push the button on the side and there is a text notification. But not from him.

Hi, this is Sam. You know, the guy who ran into your cart today at the store. I was hoping I can call later to check up on you. So his name was Sam. You smile a little and unlock the phone, navigate to type in a message. You want to invite him to call, but then you hesitate. Maybe he was just being polite. Like they all were until it turned to shit and they either started playing games or stopped replying. As you check the other messages, you realize nobody else had texted you. You scroll past the texts and most of them were just notifications. Two other texts were from friends but they were from months ago. Maybe you really had to let go. Sure, call me later. Just not too late. you text and put your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. Before you can even walk over to your living room you feel your phone vibrating again. I’ll call you in half an hour. Okay you text back.

A weird kind of tension and excitement was building up in you. It had just been a day and there was so many things on your mind and now this. Sooner than expected your phone rings with the unknown number that you had not saved yet. You turn down the volume of the TV and answer. “Hey” “Oh hey, glad to hear you’re alright” “Yeah, so far so good.” “So you got that cart back safely?” he asks. “Barely. But I hope nobody notices I left a severely damaged cart with the others. Damaged by someone other than me.” “I owe you one I guess.” Sam says. “You do?” “Yeah. What do you want?” You chuckle a little. “You were planning that all along, weren’t you?” “Oh I’m definitely known as the mastermind.” he says playfully. “No, it’s just how it happened. I was rushing to get some pickles for my sister-in-law because she has weird cravings. And my brother sent me cause he was busy calming her.” “Calming her? Because of what?” “Well, pregnancy and all. I don’t know exactly.” “Oh, so you’re going to be an uncle.” you conclude. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just hope she’s okay. Anyway I wanted to get it as soon as I could.” “Okay that explains things. I hope she’s okay too and not suffering from pain or morning sickness.” “Oh no, don’t worry. We’re taking good care of her, especially my brother. She doesn’t have to lift one finger.” “Good. As it should be.” You smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to talk all about myself. I was wondering if you’re really okay. You weren’t really there either when we talked in the store.” “What do you mean?” you ask, although a little shocked of how a stranger could read you so well and care this much. Or pretend to care. ”You just were sort of spaced out. I thought I could squeeze past and not bother you. Turns out I couldn’t.” You keep quiet, wondering if you appreciated it or not. “You’re alright? Got a lot of things on your mind?” “You could say that.” you say, then shrug. “It’s okay. Just a lot at once. You could have told me to move to let you through though.” “I should have maybe.” he admits. “But then you would have moved and kept looking at your phone and I wouldn’t have gotten your number.” Your gaze falls into the empty room, your mind becomes blank as you process his words. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you too long.” “Why do you always say that?” he breaks in. “I called you. I’d like to talk to you if you allow it.” You chuckle a little. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’re busy.” “I can take care of my sister-in-law when my brother takes his nap. So plenty of time, don’t worry. He’s just had his coffee.” You chuckle again. ”So, Sam, huh?” “Yeah, that’s me. And you?” He calls out your name in a questioning manner. “Yeah. And that’s me. I guess I’m glad you called.” “I’m glad you gave me your number. And answered, too.”

[thesweetnessofspring]

Roses and Pearls by HalfHope (thesweetnessofspring)

Rated: E

Description: Peeta Mellark is the sole victor of the Quarter Quell. With District 12 nothing but ash, he rebuilds his life by moving to the Capitol and falling in love with Rosalia Snow, granddaughter to Coriolanus Snow.

Then people Peeta thought long dead kidnap him and Rosalia, including the one person he hates more than anyone: Katniss Everdeen. They say he's been hijacked. They say that he used to love her. Locked away in District 13, Peeta is determined to protect his mind and his fiancée from the rebels. But while imprisoned, videos disprove his memories and his feelings toward Katniss grow confusing. Who can he trust, and what really happened in his past?

Thank you @louezem for beta-ing and helping me through the next phases of this fic!

Chapter One | Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Sometime in the night, Katniss has a nightmare, squeezing me tightly and screaming into my back. I automatically turn around to scoop her up in my arms. I’m still halfway in my own recurring nightmare of oppressive humidity and huge swaths of long leaves getting in the way of me finding her again. Being able to hold her combats my own fears, and we settle back into sleep in one another’s embrace.

But in the flick of the lights signaling the hour for everyone to wake up, my consciousness kicks in. And I know I can’t be with Katniss like this again. Maybe we used to be this way, if the image in my memory is reliable, but it’s wrong now because I’m wrong. How can I hold Katniss when I had sex with Rosalia Snow? Or ever defended the Capitol and all they had done? Agreed to host The Hunger Games? 

Katniss had fought to get me back, but I’m not the boy she lost. After everything she’s done to save me—becoming the Mockingjay, going on the rescue mission, putting up with me all these weeks—she might want that boy back. And I might resemble him, but I’m not who she fought for. My memories have been shredded and so I’m only left with a pile of scraps. That’s all I am. A heap of a torn-up boy who can never be whole again. That’s all I have to offer her and it’s not enough. I’m not enough.

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