#Torment Mag

[checkthefeed]

[ Paid Programming's "Wishing Well" ]

Having hit us hard last year with 2023’s “Tuesday's Child” Paid Programming is back at it again with “Wishing Well” a continuation of their onslaught in the streets.

This time crossing the border due to low snow and making the most of a inconsistant winter.

Starring Quin Ellul, Jesse Jarrett, Marty Vachon, Dan Bubalo, Stefan Alvarez, Nick Elliot, Adam Franks, Tanner Davidson, Austin Johnson, Kim Cote, Mike Rosart and friends.

Filmed by Alex Bielawski, Jesse Jarrett , Quin Ellul and Pat Quesnel

Edited by Jesse Jarrett & Quin Ellul Thumbnail photo by Liam Glass

[doostyaudi]

Emm. I like to redesign old ocs... Grins

Anyways this is Corosiin, they're a mag who special ability as acid. Which isn't fun for her since human bodies weren't really made to hold things with a higher acidity than our stomach- but shes a mag so it should be fine (/s)

Their lore is that they used to be manager's friend, aiding him in his original goal to kill auditor (look at how that turned out), but once manager started actually like auditor, corosiin found out and was SUPER pissed off. So manager turned her into a mag to literally torment her! Frowns. Yea he made sure they kept their past memories. Frowns more

I wish i had mroe abt them, but i never really thought abt them much, they were just a cool mag design i came up with one day

[overmega]

the haunting of gerard keay

[fullsaw]

Underrated TMA Episodes

MAG 156 - Guy is trying to throw a shitty rave and is pulled into a starvation dimension

MAG 37 - Gertrude ruins another mans life

MAG 112 - Girl joins a murder club and is upset when they start murdering eachother

MAG 133 - A Man, his son and his sons fucked up boyfriend join The Wild Hunt

MAG 113 - Man accidentally kills himself, decides its actually pretty neat you guys maybe you should try it

MAG 83 - Nikola Orsinov fucks up a window display for no discernible reason

MAG 153 - Comedian is indoctrinated into a wine cult and doesn't live laugh or love

MAG 66 - Mikaele Salesa and Peter Lukas torment one guy in particular by putting him in a box

[violet-dragongirl]

Yep I need to take a break, eat, drink, maybe get tipsy, watch some Lupin III Series 5 and chill for second

[applejuicebegood]

The Softest of Jason Todd HCs

Fem!Reader A/N: Some of these were originally conceived for the lovely, talented, wonderful @midnightorchids. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FALLOW HER RIGHT NOW

Masterlist

Jason fell for you slowly. It was the kinda falling that took on the form of severe distraction and confusion during his patrol time. The only spot in his second life he had crafted into hours of precise control and expectancy. He hated how, as he was clicking a mag into his handgun, his mind would flash to your smiling, blushed face. He hated how you would unintentionally make him trip and stumble over the roof-tops of Gotham. He hated how recalling the chime of your laugh made his hands sweaty under his leather gloves. He hated how he had to take off his helmet in the seclusion of an abandoned wear-house because recalling how his hand slipped in to your on your last date made his face heat up to the point where he felt like he would pass out.

Once he realised that the nervous pounding in his gut whenever your shoulders brushed was in-fact caused from a growing crush on you, he panicked. The eventual confession was awkward and stumbled, him making it clear that he needed time and room to figure it out. He took your smaller hands into his, promising that no matter what, for now he would figure it out with you at his side. Of course you agreed, squeezing his hands in confirmation.

Ya'll are soulmates, period. Very big 'he is half of my soul' energy. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your words have already been said by the other before you can string them together in your head. You share in each-others grief and rage. Five years into the relationship, Jason knew you so well (and being raised in a family of detectives) that you would never have to explain your frustration or annoyance - and on days like that he would always be ready to wrap you up in a weighted blanket, forcing a cup of raspberry tea into your cold hands and his headphones over your ears with one of his audiobooks already playing. Carrying you to your shared bed for you to fall asleep leaned up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around you.

Despite his availability of wealth and status, he keeps your date-night very low-key and personal. On his off days from Red-Hooding, both of you would have cooking nights. Where you would sway and giggle with the slow drift of music coming from the kitchen radio. You would make something hearty and filling. You wanting to see Jason sigh in the comfort of good food. You both would curl up with your steaming bowls on your couch, probably watching Tangled (at your request). It's all extremely cozy, Jason smiling into your skin as gratitude blooms in his chest for you. For having created this safe, hidden expanse of reassurance. All while the harsh Gotham wind whipped just outside your window.

This man is smitten- he worships you entirely. His is in awe of you, even as both of you grow old, his love and his care for you never relents or dwindles.

Ya'll would go to museums and art galleries and he would point at statues and paintings of goddess and queens and say 'you', under his breath. It's so horribly corny but it makes you hold his arm just a bit tighter every time.

After you both moved in together, he developed a habit of making your coffee alongside his and bringing it to you in bed in the mornings. This eventually just became your routine on weekends when you both had enough time to bask in the slow creeping of sunlight over each-others skin.

He's a romantic at heart, a part of him you had to slowly unearth under years of torment and blood. You were the one to force him out of his cave of isolation and into the reality of him deserving softness and joy. It's a dept you have assured him he doesn't need to pay back. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Giggles and smiles like a little boy if you kiss his forehead, specifically at the roots of his white streak. You think it's one of the prettiest things about him.

Unintentional scary dog when you guys are out together. He's got his hand laced with yours or floating somewhere on your hip or lower back. It's mostly due to his anxiety, constantly having his head on a swivel. It's all heightened due to the fact that he has the most precious, important individual standing next to him. Whether it's at one of his Dad's galla's or trips to the local library, he likes to have you near him.

Bitch has multiple playlists made about/for you (a lot of Noah Kahn and TV Girl)

Example:

A/N: I may be gay but I have a very special place for sappy Jason in my heart. Please send in any requests regarding our boy (or any of the bat boys or girls)- I really love writing for the people in this fandom.

[gerec]

Resurrection of Magneto - Issue 2

For all Cherik lovers:

If you haven't been following / don't follow the comics - Magneto has been dead since 2022 after his battle with Uranos in AXE: Judgement Day and has stayed dead because he asked not to be resurrected (yes resurrections were/are a thing in the Krakoan era for mutants). The new mini RoM is about Storm going on a journey to... purgatory somewhere?... to bring Magneto back to the land of the living because she heard his 'call'/dreamt he was in pain and regretted his choice. When she finds him though, he is very determinedly NOT interested in coming back, wanting to atone for his sins and because he's just so TIRED y'all. But then:

Then Storm is like 'Bestie let me catch you up it's been a NO GOOD VERY BAD DAY for mutants':

As you can see, Mags is PISSED because he specifically told Storm with his dying breath he was worried about Charles being left alone and what he might do if pushed to his limits and that he needed (her) support...

It's a little hilarious that Mags is more upset with Storm for botching things ('YOU HAD ONE JOB, ORORO') than with Charles' (questionable? depends who you ask) decision-making and starts flinging metal name plates of his victims at her (i.e. people he's killed or were killed because of him and yes he's been tormenting himself, surrounded by walls and walls and walls of their names).

Then we get THIS panel of Erik remembering how he cradled his 'friend' in his arms and lamenting how Charles was the only one who saw that ERIK/MAX/MAGNUS/MAGNETO mattered too, and that HE (and not just his victims) also suffered from his actions....'WHAT DID I DO, CHARLES?'

'SO I CHOSE DEATH OVER THE DREAM I BUILT WITH MY FRIEND' - HE'S SO SORRY HE ABANDONED YOU, CHHHHHHARRRRRRLLLLLEESSSSS!!!!

But then Storm says 'but look at all the lives you've saved, that's important too. You need to come back and help us SAVE mutant kind and HE says:

BABE, WAIT FOR ME I'M COMING HOME!!!

[duskier]

cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)

Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)

He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.

It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.

Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.

...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.

If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.

He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.

"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."

Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.

Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.

He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.

[libertyybellls]

KNEW THE GAME & PLAYED IT ?

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnick has to let you go to save you- he can’t simply see you off if he still has his teeth sunk in- he has to make you hate him.

contains; ANGST, self hatred, insults, mean!finnick, manipulation, alcohol consumption, mentions of forced prostitution

a/n: this might be like a ballpark idea because in retrospect i don’t see finnick being rude but honestly as a last resort, i think he’d be able to suck it up and go for the throat… but that’s just me thinking w my dick…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

all he needed was the right moment, the right moment where he’d be just barely drunk and in the capitol- waiting for his capitol facade to fall right into place, for his mask to be put on and become self assured, confident, charming, arrogant.

he loved you to the point of no return, he loved you so badly that he thought encasing himself around you would be able to yield the harsh bullets the capitol shot your way- his plans went awry when you had been reaped for the 70th hunger games.

it was only after panick attacks, after sitting infront of his screen- watching you kill, starve and scream, did he realize that if you came out of this- the only way he’d be able to protect you would be to have nothing to do with you.

finnick thought he was a plague, he held himself responsible for his parents death, for not being able to help mags out enough, for not being able to save his own tributes. he was a plague and it was sickening- he wouldn’t let himself hurt you any longer.

he’d held you after you won your games, showered you, comforted you at night, talked you through the nightmares-even when he had his own demons tormenting every waking moment of his life.

but once your victory tour had ended, he couldn’t quite let you go- it seemed you couldn’t either. he’d isolate himself, keeping himself locked away in the victor’s village. he feared if he even went outside his home, his feet would lead him right back to your doorstep, like a puppy.

but you would barge in, you’d cry to eachother, hold eachother, make up, tell eachother you’d never leave, that you can’t be apart from one another.

and that part wasn’t a lie, he couldn’t breath without your familiar scent suffocating him, he couldn’t sleep if you weren’t wrapped around him, he couldn’t eat if he wasn’t sitting across from you. but he’d give up the oxygen, the food, the sleep, just so you would be safe. he’d do it any day if you asked him.

so here you were, at a capitol party- one of many you required to go to. finnick had avoided you all night, staying put at the side of the older woman who’d bought his nineteen year old self for the night.

he’d laugh, drink, joke with these monsters only to hold back the inconsolable sobs that begged to leave his throat at the thought of what he would do to you later.

you were hugged in a black dress, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of neons. it was only about halfway through the party that his eyes found yours, you swore you saw guilt and pity flash through them.

“excuse me, i’ll be in the restroom.” he smiled to the woman next to him, she didn’t seem to be too distraught at him taking leave.

you followed him to the outdoor terrace, shivering once the cold wind made contact with your backless dress and shoulders.

once away from all of the windows he leaned on the railing, sucking his lips into his teeth.

you stopped beside him, ready for an embrace- only met with his cold stare down at you.

it was then that finnick decided he would bite the bullet- and he could’ve sworn he could taste the gunpowder down his throat already.

“what wrong finnick?”you grabbed his bare shoulder with one hand, the other one touching his face. he swore he could’ve melted, could’ve forgotten all about saving you right there- to continue poisoning you with the fatal injection that was being associated with him.

finnick laughed that signitaure faux-money grabbing laugh. “oh come one princess, you don’t have to act like you need me anymore.” he shrugged out of your touch.

your eyes squinted, was this an act, was this him wanting to end things? there was a fine line between love and pure obsession and you hadn’t known where it started or where it ended. “what?” you move towards him again- it seemed being too far away made the cool air more unbearable.

“i’m sure you loved the money, the sponsors, the jewels, everything the capitol- everything i gave you” his eyes were dark, selling the act, glaring down into your soul. “but you won your games y/n, no need to follow me around like a lost puppy anymore.”

was that what you’d done? was that what it’d seemed like? like you were stringing him along for your survival?

you blamed the wind still blowing in your face for your watery eyes, but it was more so the sound of your heart shattering with each word he spoke. venom; hot and heavy on his beautiful mouth- and he spit it at you like you were dirt.

“i don’t understand finnick? i thought-“

he only laughs this time, so sinister, so in your face, he takes a step closer to you, sizing you up. “you thought we loved eachother?” he mocks, raising his eyebrows and amusement. his body is giving out and his heart is breaking inside- but he’d much rather live miserably and rot away than watch the capitol strip you of all you were good for simply because they had the picture perfect sex symbols as a couple. “i mean the sex was great, y/n- don’t get me wrong. but thats all it was. you trying to survive, and me taking the opportunity for pleasure.”

your first tear falls, he’s tearing you to shred. tearing through your sheer layer of clothes and the skin beneath it, reaching for you heart, grabbing it then throwing it to the concrete.”how could you say that? after everything how dare you say that?” you sob out.

“oh baby, i thought you knew?” he shakes his head at you, you feel like your a little girl again, but not free nor innocent and happy. you feel excluded- cut out, labeled as something subjective, so ripe, yet so very rotten.

“finnick let’s just leave.” blinking through tears, you go to grab his arm but he shakes out of your grip, disgust written on his face. if only you’d known it was all for himself. if only you’d known what the capitol would make the two of you do if this went any further- what snow would do. “let’s leave, we can go home, we can talk about this finnick.” you beg, raw emotion tears through you voice as you plead through tears.

he flashes you the most charming smile, “i love the flattery, but if you want to spend the night with me- all you have to do is take a bid and buy me out princess.” his smile drops as he turns around to walk out. “glad to know what the eroticism of your company brings though, tastes like a whole lot of tears and daddy issues.”

people have begun to flow into the terrace now, admiring the view. but your view was the man you’d given every last bit of your mind body and soul to, walking away without looking back.

your legs can’t bare to carry your body, can’t bare to keep up with his long strides that beg to put a distance between you two. “finnick!” you scream, almost growl.

but he’s gone, whisked away back into the party.

you want to scream, you want to vomit, your stomach is doing flips. every part of you feels violated.

some part of you wishes you died in that arena, and some part of him does too.

-

send requests!!! i’ll be taking them asap!!

[your-ne1ghbor]

(Replying to both @spectator-zee and @rascalentertainments reblogs lmao)

Heyo!

Does Cosmic!Star have legs?

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER, FORGIVE ME 😭

The answer is yes, he does! It just takes more energy to use them!

Like I referenced in a previous post, this form is inspired by Dark!Genie's form. While Genie didn't show his legs in that form, I moved his regular bottom half over to Cosmic!Star. When he first transformed, he only used his upper half since just wanted to hit the king. When we get to the Disney Kaiju Battle, Star will be filled with so much rage and energy that he can form legs to balance on.

When going up against Magnifico, he does fight in a gorilla fighting style, not only referencing Kerchak's fights (Tarzan), but he also puts more energy into his upper body to punch. Star only knows how animals would fight, so this is the closest to human fighting he can get.

Star's legs can bend and move, but its in more of a squash and stretch style, which is why he doesn't have toes. Its like putty constantly changing shape!

Thanks so much, @tumblingdownthefoxden!! Let me know if you have anymore questions! 😉

@your-ne1ghbor @oh-shtars

[yelenadelova]

Nobody talk to me i’m thinking about how Mags was 5 when the Hunger Games first started. She had to live through those games for all 75 years of them, 64 of them as a Victor. Think about how many tributes she mentored, how many kids she watched the deaths of, how many she felt responsible for. How much she suffered at the hands of the Capitol.

And she helped the rebellion. She volunteered to go into the games again at 80 years old, to save the life of someone she loved. She was part of the plan to help Katniss survive. Ultimately, she gave her life for the rebellion. She died in an arena. She died as part of the very games that tormented her existence for 75 years. And she never got to see the results. She never lived to see Panem free from the games and the capitol. She never got to see peace.

[poorlemons]

saw the michael pose drawing and was immediately flooded with limitless ideas. So michael was a model but he was a hand model before he worked at the institute but after he was doored it just liked to keep hand modeling and like who was gonna stop a door from hand modeling so theres a crap ton of unreleased magazines or whatever because they are just filled with the freakiest ass hands imaginable like you wouldn't know they were hands unless someone told you and the only words in the mags are relating to the spiral. also I really want to hold michaels hand

that is such a funny idea. michael is tormenting magazine companies and modeling agencies, and like- good for it!! here it is with a kitty ring and a ring pop also i advise against holding its hands, i think you may get spiraled out of existence. hold normal michaels hands and i think *he* may spiral out of existence. i gave him anxiety

[notmedicine13]

My theory on madness combat 12

What I think the Auditor was trying to do is controlling Sanford. He's gotten weaker after fighting hank and Sanford, and when he accidentally absorbed Tricky, so he has to find another away, and this is where Sanford comes in

Evidence Nr. 1

After dealing with the Agents in 3:07, the Auditor's energy shows up and temporarily get's a hold of Sanford. At the top right we can see text Saying ANCHOR AND REPLACE SANFORD).Recruit Null. We also see other text at the bottom saying "infectionVector" and "LET ME IN"

Evidence Nr. 2

When the Auditor shows up to confront Sanford, he just walks towards him. Sure, spikes are showing up, they are not directly targeting him. He wants Sanford alive, he wants to torment him so that he snaps and gives in.

Evidence Nr. 3

At 4:37, the Auditor once again tries to take control of Sanford. We see even more text, with one of them saying "VIOLENCE SEEKING". More text shows up, with two of them being "product/KILLprimary" and "product/KILLMORE". There's also another line of text that says "give.product(gift)" and "give.product(weapon)", which shows that the Auditor wants Sanford to kill more.

Evidence Nr. 4

In the scene where Sanford is about to be ripped apart by the Half-Mags, there's flashing text that reads "KILL MORE". I believe that this is the Auditor telling him to kill the Half-Mags. After that, Sanford snaps and absolutely decimates the Half-Mags in a fit of rage. The Auditor even blocked off all the doors so that Sanford couldn't run away from him

But unfortunately for him, Doc managed to recover Sanford before the Auditor could take him, which is where my predictions for MC 13 will come in. I'm less positive that this would happen but I would like to get my thoughts out anyway.

Krinkels confirmed that MC 13 will be the finale of the series, and I think it's only fitting that there's gonna be a big fight where Deimos and Sanford have to fight Hank. After Sanford managed to escape, the Auditor was furious at Doc, so what I think is gonna happen, is that he'll try to control Hank to kill Doc for him. Sanford and Deimos will try to protect Doc, and they would have to do that by killing Hank. Because think about it, Nevada can't be safe if Hank remains alive. He killed the Boombox guy for no real reason, went after the Sheriff twice, tried to kill Tricky who was minding his own business being a DJ, blew up Jeb in Project Nexus because he was talking too much, and tried to Kill Sanford and Deimos in Project Nexus, something that he was hoping would happen.

TL;DR The Auditor was tormenting Sanford so that he'd snap and be a puppet for him, but that failed so he's using Hank to kill Doc which will lead to his death

lemme know what you guys think, do you guys agree or disagree, or think that something was happening

[maggiecc]

When the World Shifts (Finnick O’Dair x reader) Part 2

Finnick O'Dair x reader

TW: It's about the Hunger Games, so murder, talks of death

You have been made shorter than Finnick, but it's not important. Do I include Y/N?

No Betas, we die like vikings.

Part 1, Part 2 (here), Part 3, Part 4: TBD

The day of the reaping came all too soon. The days leading to the reaping were filled with training, for Finnick, and you, as well as everyone taking shifts with Annie. If you were with her, Finnick trained with Mags, if Mags was with her you and Finnick trained, and if Finnick was with her, you and Mags trained. Annie had fallen back into many of her old patterns from the months after her games, if she did not have one of you to ground her she would start to scream and rip her hair out. You worried that when you and Finnick left, Annie would only have Mags but she will know where you are and you are unsure if Mags will be enough.

“Are you ready love?” Finnick pulls you from your thoughts. You take a breath in to steady yourself.

“Does it really matter?” You attempt to joke, but your words hold much truth. It doesn’t matter if you are ready, the reaping will occur and you will soon be on a train to the capitol, whether or not you like it.

The District 4 victors all gather together to walk over hand in hand. You walking next to eachother, Finnick, you, Annie, and Mags stepping onto the stage together. You looked at the bowls, the left had 3 pieces, and the right had 1; seeing them making it feel all the more real. 

The capitol representative who had drawn, Annie’s, Finnick’s, and your names walked up to the bowls. He began his long-winded speech from the capital all about the importance of the Hunger Games and how significant the quarter quell is. It was a summary of what Snow had said, and that speech was already burned into your brain. You start to disassociate from yourself, it had been so long since the last time time you had been at the reaping in person. 

After your victory, you tried to go to the reapings to meet the tributes after they were reaped to help comfort them, but it became too much. No matter how much you tried the tributes were outmatched by the careers. So over the years, you had to stop going, seeing the names pulled and looking at the faces of the children who were lambs to the slaughter became too much. Sometimes you still dream of those first few kids, 

Coral was only 14 when she was chosen, and had a smile that could light up a room. She made you a bracelet you still wear on your wrist, made of dried fish bones and odd-shaped shells. She went in with Moss, a soft-spoken 16-year-old. You grew up on the same road as him, his older brother even went to school with you. He did not have hope for himself but spent the game trying to protect Coral. They lost their game by a sneak attack while they slept, leaving you a wreck for weeks. The only comfort you had was they went fast, a mercy not many receive in the games. 

The next was Annie, and although she won the loss of her partner hurt you as badly as the first two you lost. Annie winning was both a blessing and a curse, it let you keep Annie but the next 2 years held hope which only made the pain hurt more. After losing 4 more tributes you eventually stopped going to the reapings. You wanted to be there to help the kids but the mental torment was simply too much. Finnick trained, them and Mags the group after, you returned to join the rotation knowing that it was hard for Finnick and Annie as well.

Your reminiscing was cut off by someone grabbing your hand. You turn to look a the source of the warmth and comfort. Finnick looked down at you and tried to give you a comforting smile. It was like he read your mind and knew what you were doing, and he was probably doing the same. You all knew not to get too attached but it was impossible to look a those young kids and not care.

“It will be alright, love” Finnick attempted to comfort you, but you could not even muster a response, only being able to squeeze his hand.

“We shall let the men go first,” The host announced, laughing as he pretended to search around the bowl, but there was only one name. You knew what the host was about to say but you still flinched upon hearing it. “Finnick O’Dair!” 

The host began to clap and District 4 reluctantly joined in, out of respect for their only male victor. Finnick gave the cameras a wave as he walks to the side for the next name to be called.

“Alright, now for the female tribute!” The host was loud and excited, so clearly capital. He saw this as some sort of game but the districts knew the truth. These were murders, children slaughtered for nothing, a war they weren’t alive for. “Our female tribute is . . . Annie Cresta!” Your heart sinks. Annie broke out in tears holding herself as she begins to weep. You knew what you were about to do, knew she wouldn’t enter the games but hearing her name still hurt her.

“I VOLUNTEER!” You scream tears starting to form. Mags begins to wrap Annie in her arms as you walk over to join Finnick. 

He wraps you in a hug and leans to whisper in your ear “We will make it out, I promise.” You nod your head and wipe your tears.

You move to stand side by side and grab Finnick's hand. You raise it high above your head for your District to see. All of District 4 began to cheer for their victors, turned back into tributes. They finally have a reason to have hope, both of you were survivors and maybe you could have a chance, that they would not have to watch more of their people be slaughtered for entertainment. You had the same hope, maybe you could make it out, maybe both of you could.

Once you were able to walk off the stage you run to where Annie and Mags stood. You wrap them up in your arms, and Finnick does the same holding all three of you. Your little family, the only people who truly understood you was being torn apart. Annie grabbed both you and Finnick, gripping your arms to the point her nails dug into your skin but you ignore it. She is still crying but not screaming anymore. She lets go of your arms and grabs your heads to put them to her. She was unable to speak but you understand what she is saying. Annie lets out a soft laugh and you know that she cannot control it.

“We will make it back to you, I promise,” Finnick tells her. You don’t know if she believes him, or if you do but she lets go of your heads. She grabs your hands to give you one last squeeze followed by Mags giving you both a soft touch to the cheek and a smile. 

The peacekeeper starts to head towards your group, a sign you had to leave. Their weapons stayed in their hands, not pointing towards you, but the threat was clear. You are leaving now.

“We’re coming you grunts,” Finnick told them as he turns to walk. You begin to join him but quickly turn your head around and mouth, I love you to the woman. Annie turns into Mags' arms as her weeping returns.

You turn to look up to Finnick, seeing him tensing upon hearing Annie’s cries but not being able to hug and comfort her. You grab his hand and squeeze it, making him look at you. “We got this. Mags will take care of her for when we come back.” you try to comfort him.

He gives you a soft smile that does not fully reach his eyes “Of course my love. They don’t stand a chance against us.”

You nod your head, then turn forward to walk, hand in hand with Finnick, knowing that whatever you are going to face you will at least be with him.

[morethanwonderful]

I just finished relistening to MAG 133, and I can't believe I never realized this before, but. this whole episode is about Basira.

The point of Dead Horse is that The Hunt is about the process, not the ending. It stops being a hunt once the hunting ends, which means victory is never as satisfying as you want it to be. Daisy's least favorite part of tracking criminals was arresting them, and the ritual of The Hunt has no ending. The Everchase is an eternal search with no destination.

This is also the episode where we see that Basira is living as a hunter with no satisfying endings. She spent weeks chasing leads from Elias that brought her nothing, and more importantly, this is the episode where we see that she's finally been reunited with the partner she's been longing for, but she isn't satisfied by it. She finally reaches the end of her chase and finds Daisy, but Daisy isn't what she wants her to be when she finds her.

In season 5, Basira's torment after the Change is to chase Daisy eternally, and when she catches her, she has to kill her because she's too far gone to The Hunt. There's nothing at the end of Basira's search but misery. But in season 4, it's the opposite. Basira searches for a Daisy, searches for a strong ally she can trust, but when she finds her partner again, she's no good because she's too human.

Daisy, or at least Basira's idea of Daisy, is Basira's Everchase.

[macabresymphonies]

I've seen a lot of theories about how "TMAGP is not about fears it's about desires", but post episode 5 I'll do you one better, they are not about desires, they are specifically about passions.

You see TMA was specifically and objectively about fears. Yes sometimes your passion for skydiving made you a prime victim for a smiling, dried geriatric dude with a cane, but there were also a lot of them where you were simply tormented by doors for your whole life for no reason or stuck in a slaughterhouse job you didn't like, so the one connecting factor for them was FEAR of something.

TMAGP incidents are obviousily different, the are not specifically about characters being afraid - quite the contrary, some of them are sedated into a paranormal-like serenity. The one connecting factor this time wasn't fear, but weirdly enough they all do speak or hint at things they or other characters are very passionate about:

I love my husband (Harriet Winstead)

I love urban exploration (RedCanary)

I love art (Daria)

I love gardening (Maggie Webber)

I love being a doctor (Dr Samuel Webber)

I love playing violin (Unnamed Virtuoso)

I love horror films (Tom)

You may contend me on Samuel Webber loving his work as a doctor, but it has been hinted on in the incident he's very passionate or at least absorbed in it:

He's on the run and still thinks of his patients, regrets working so long, but it's implied it's his fault he stayed at the hospital too long. These lines from the writing perspective would normally be there to make his character more sympathetic, but I doubt that was the case with a guy who may-or-may-not have killed his wife over unconfirmed affair, instead they seem like a framing device for us to see how passionate Samuel is about his work.

All this talk about love made me think back to what Gerry said back in MAG 111:

Maybe now we know why, because they were present in different universe, but suddelny in some space-time warp incident (wonder what that could be /s) they were met with primodial gods of fear and those corrupted them. Now these fallen gods corrupt and warp people, twisting their passions into obsessions and weapons. Still feeding on love, but they take it by any means necessary.