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aicosu · 2 years ago

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18 👀

"You look lost." Eddie whips around the blackened alley, but sees no one, nothing. Nothing but slick oil-stained asphalt and busted-up chipper vending machines. "I can help you." He turns again, hearing a flicker in the voice that sounds just like the buzz of the fluorescent kiosk behind him and—oh god dammit, it is the kiosk. "Buzz off!" He waves his hands at the pink advertisement, pulsing hearts and sales at him.

The digital face of a blonde blue-eyed baby girl crumples, her lips pouting and brows furrowing to imitate some emotion. Nervous. Scared. The BIG BLOWOUT lettering disappears around her head and the advertisement zooms out to show her crossing her arms on her electric cloud. "I-I just wanted to—!"

"I'm not buying whatever you're selling, soda girl. And I know your scam! You're not getting my ID Data by making me talk so you can use corporate tactics and native—" "You did that yourself Eddie Munson of the 429-70 sector—" "Hey!" He rushes as the kiosk and other parts of it light up from proximity. She twists into a bigger frame and leans over to pop images up between her fingers. "—and I'm not interested in selling you a GIBSON 340 Flyer series BLACK or the 76th edition of Dueling Dragon—" "Knock it off!" He bangs knuckles on her pixels, poofing his most recent engine searches into square dust. She laughs. It bubbles into audio pops from a speaker that had long been blown at. Stars rotate in her cartoon-like eyes. "I just want to help, you look like you haven't been to the pink district before."

Pink district. Eddie twists on his boots, eyes roaming over the tops of the building he's been wandering between, trying to see the neon grid of the city's artificial sky for traces of the color that denotes each zone. He thinks through the smog he can see it. Pink.

He returns to the kiosk, watching the rotating words start their default script above her head. INTIMATE MOMENTS. GET TO KNOW ME! 5KEY SENSATION! FLASH INPUT FOR CUSTOM FANTASIE— She's a Playtime Prostitute. "I don't—I'm n-not here for—your services are not required!" He claws fingers at her, feeling attacked from all sides by his new location ping and her chest when she giggles. "I do have a module for Knights and Maidens—!" "S-Stop! D-don't fucking read my order history, it's rude." "Sorry!" she says, but she's grinning, floating up to cross her legs on a heart that pulses beneath her. "Can't help my code." "Am I past 34th and Adven?" "By two blocks!" She flashes into a new pose, dipping past one frame to the protruding sign so she can point past where he came from. "You're closer to the VR Domes now." "Fuck." "Where are you looking to—" She turns up at him and from this angle, the scanner must be close enough, because her eyes barcode over when they snag his badge. "Ohhhhhh! A Repo-man!" Eddie slaps his hand over the metal bracket on his jacket but it's too late. "How can I help you officer?" she coos, wiggling her hips with stars in her eyes again. "Oh, don't. Cancel Authority Service program. I don't like working with ai's anyway, you all track my target's credit scores and sell them loans at interest." "I'm a sex doll," she deadpans, floating to a high frame where it crops to just those entrancing eyes, that little nose, and those gussed up lips/ Perfected down to the algorithm. For a busted-up kiosk, she looks... really good. And the lack of interaction in the back of an alley didn't seem to fry her function. At least not yet. "I can't track anything, I'm not allowed." "Not legally." Eddie swallows. "But all you things are just dirty little car dealers." She blinks. Smiles. Shy. Or maybe sly. The colors of the kiosk coordinate a hot red and flash her through different outfits. A translucent street set, those new dance bandages, and then something super old world—denim shorts and a bathing suit top with sneakers. She sits crossed-legged and starts playing with the ties on her shoulders. She's got him, the entire thing is working as intended, using all its collected data to sell him something customized. Something from his collected magazines and website cookies. And he's a fucking idiot because he knows it but doesn't stop her. "I just wanted to help you. You know I have to be wired to the grid for theft." She has a GPS tracker. He didn't even think of that. Can't think of anything when her top falls off but emojis censor her with animated DnD dice and guitars. The red drips away to pink. She starts laughing. Eddie grasps his face with both hands to hide. Is he really gonna get hard and jerk one out in front of an old commercial in the back of some alley? Really?

"Can you just tell me where the Syranx Warehouse is? Huh? Or is lying part of the scam here?" "What part are you collecting from the poor guy? Not his little rod?" she asks, biting her nail and winking. Eddie groans, and checks his work watch, tapping through the data to yank up his mark's collection ticket. A hologram of a V-model leg prosthesis rotates between them on his wrist. "His leg! How cruel! How will he walk?" Eddie shakes his head. "Look, what do you want from me? He shoulda paid his monthly." "How scary you are, Eddie Munson." She twists a finger in her hair. "Hope you don't... come for me one day." "I don't come for ai—oh." He cringes, realizing her sexual innuendo too late into her roar of giggles. "I can change that!" she declares and twists into a new frame—transformed into a cheerleader outfit. "STOP!" Eddie bangs on the fiberglass. She ripples pixels, falling over laughing, pleated skirt perfectly peeking underwear. "That's a low blow you pop-up witch!" "Encrypt your life then!" she teases. It's a good point, but an expensive one. "Just give me directions!" "Promise to come back!" Eddie inhales. It's not contractual. It's authentic programming. Nothing digital can hold you to anything unless biometrics are involved. No this is just her, using years of being turned on to collect and create her own machine learning for targeting and manipulating people. Or, rather—she's being cute. "S-s-sure." It's all he can manage. Because apparently now he's a company shill. She claps her hands and a scanner code pops up. "Maps for the scary Repo-man!" He flashes his watch over it and watches in horror as pink hearts burst and pop from his digital screen. "Don't infect me, okay? I trusted—" But he stops when a map appears and a cute little cartoon icon of her points at a dot with a simple flashing. YOU ARE HERE! He looks back up at her, where she's laid back down in her original posting with the BLOWOUT SALE next to—oh, that makes a lot more sense now. "T-thanks." He scratches his head, grateful but ashamed. She waves fingers at him coyly. "Listen uh—Uhm. What's your... make and...uh model? You know for... I'll do the survey or whatever—" "I'm Chrissy." She winks, flashing open the tag with her company and link. "Thanks, Chrissy." "Come back soon!" He very much will not be. He'd avoided the Pink District for this very fucking reason. Well, not this reason in particular but this can definitely be added to the top of the list. But he knows that the scan was already logged. That his eye implant recorded the whole interaction. That her link in his memory was fucking... clickable.

God dammit.

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heavensbeehall · 11 months ago

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"Mockingjay", Chapter 8

Part 1: The Ashes

Chapter 8: Boggs carries Katniss back to the hovercraft. She vomits on him. Katniss wakes up in her mother's hospital area. Mrs. Everdeen was not told that Katniss was going anywhere. They want to roll her hospital bed directly into Command but she wants to walk (our girl never wants to look weak) and they compromise on a wheelchair. She learns the names of her "insect" cameramen, Castor and Pollux. Pollux is an Avox. She worries the Mockingjay Agreement will be voided--and that Peeta might be hurt--because she didn't follow Boggs' orders, but no one has ratted her out to Coin. Coin "reruns" the first propo which has been aired in all the Districts already. Everyone is pleased, except Fulvia and Haymitch. But Cressida expertly placates Fulvia. So Gale wheels Katniss back to the hospital and she wakes up with an irritated Haymitch at her bedside. He resents (and probably was frightened by) her removing her earpiece. He threatens her with a "head shackle" or implanting a chip in her ear, also he ate her lunch. In the hospital, Finnick and Katniss watch a second propo air together. They are surprised to see another interview with Peeta aired after. Finnick helps Katniss by coming up with a lie that they did not see the interview. No one tells Katniss aboutg it.

I want to take off my vest, since I got a fair amount of vomit on it as well, but it's too cold to think about it. I lie on the floor with my head in Gale's lap. The last thing Iremember is Boggs spreading a couple of burlap sacks over me.

I'm going to point out all the Dad-ly things Boggs does as evidence of my theory that he helps Katniss with her trauma about her own dad's death (and also not having anyone look after her, just her looking after Prim and her mom at a young age). The fact that she vomits on him and he "sighs" is my favorite dad thing. Like she's an infant who just spit up.

They more than do their work, they take pride in it. Like Cinna.

I have a strange thought that if we were in the arena together, Iwould pick them as allies...

There's a theme of art and artists being the heart of the resistance in these books. Obviously Cinna and many of the Stylists were rebels, as was Tigris. Here we see that Cressida and her team also has that same Cinna-vibe. So filmmaking can be an artform, but the Hunger Games is not. Anyway, keep this in mind for the "76th" Hunger Games.

Coin and Gale are in the midst of some exchange that seems positively chummy. When Gale slides into the seat next to my wheelchair, I say, "Making new friends?" His eyes flicker to the president and back. "Well, one of us has to be accessible." He touches my temple gently. "How do you feel?"

His trust of Coin is going to get him into trouble. I want to yell at him to stop talking to her!

At least Finnick doesn't applaud or act all happy when it's done. He just says, "People should know that happened. And now they do."

I am glad Katniss has Finnick here. He gets it and a way others don't.

Peeta's physical transformation shocks me. The healthy, clear-eyed boy I saw a few days ago has lost at least fifteen pounds and developed a nervous tremor in his hands. They've still got him groomed. But underneath the paint that cannot cover the bags under his eyes, and the fine clothes that cannot conceal the pain he feels when he moves, is a person badly damaged.

Katniss realizes the first interview was taped earlier, and that Peeta has been tortured. How long, approximately, was he being tortured for, do we know?

In a minute, people will be here to do damagecontrol on Peeta's condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don't trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I'm not confident that they tell me the truth. I won't be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching. Finnick grips me hard by the arms. "We didn't see it."

Again, Peeta manages to make decent points in his interview even though he is obviously being forced to say certain things. Finnick, who is now--in my opinion--almost functioning in the role Peeta would usually occupy, again understands implicitly and comes up with a convincing lie for her.

#cressida #castor #pollux #boggs #finnick odair #cinna #art #thg reread #mockingjay

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maytheoddshq · 1 year ago

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Keres Lancaster (she/her). Gamemaker. Forty-eight. Laura Linney.

Growing up in District One was golden. The district of luxury, home of the finest commodities that could be sold to the Capitol. Often, one felt one step away from true grandeur. Keres was no different. Her father traveled often to the Capitol, telling her of its grandness. Growing up, she knew she would end up there one day.

Her childhood was far from perfect. A distant father who traveled often. A mother who could care less, more absorbed in the image, the luxury. Keres detested her mother, a woman she considered vapid, unambitious. It was her father who fostered the ember within her, to be more than some Capitolites wife. It was he who had seen what lingered behind his daughters eyes, the raw ambition. Attending the Academy, Keres strove to make him proud. She became ruthless not just in her words but in her actions too. One day, she was sure, everyone would know her name.

When the rebellion happened, Keres was 17 years old. At first, it had not bothered her. After all, things would sizzle out, they always did. Discontent was not new. Sore losers had always existed, the outer districts angry at their own ineptitudes. It was their fault at all that the games existed, they continued to fester and push against the generosity of the Capitol. What did they think would happen if they struck out on their own? Success. No, society would collapse. So often were rebellions focused on having a winner that they rarely thought about what came next. It was easy to fight. It was harder to rule.

Then, her father was killed. The only person she thought understood her, the person who encouraged her, who she admired. Killed by rebels when he had gone to try to settle things down. No tears had come from her eyes when they told her, when they brought him back to be buried. President Snow - the elder, not Nerissa - had been there. The rebellion had been squashed, sure, but at what cost?

Throwing herself into training, Keres became hell bent with a single mission. The next Hunger Games would be won by her. No rebel would be allowed to claim victory, to show their resilience, to claim that they had any ground to stand on. No, they would be shown the might of One, the power that they held. How even after killing an influential man in the rebellion, his daughter would avenge. She had told Snow this, when they stood in the overcast graveyard. The only response was a smile, a firm hand on her shoulder, and a solid nod. The only blessing she needed.

[CW: blood, death] Everyone knew that the 76th Hunger Games would be something for the record books, after the unrest that had happened. An eighteen year old Keres had known as well, but had still proudly stepped up when it came time to ask for volunteers. No one dared challenge her, knowing that she was a chosen Tribute. Top of her class in the Academy, and with a brutal streak to her predicated on revenge, she had gone into her games with a mission.

Keres fought with a traditional one-handed sword and dagger. A brutal machine, her Arena catered to her nature. Tall corn-fields, blocking the view of anyone except for designated high spots which one could look out from and watch others. The cornucopia in the middle, towers here and there. The only source of food was the corn, and the only water was from its kernels or from the cornucopia itself. Immediately, Keres and the Career pack had taken over the Cornucopia, using it as a vantage point to see out across the fields. With the short dagger, Keres had personally gutted two tributes in the bloodbath, driving the blade into them and looking them in the eyes as they fell.

A brutal machine, Keres put on a show for those she knew were watching. Every one of her kills was done with spectacular precision. When she did her interviews post-games, many were shocked how this young, pretty, blonde woman had single-handedly killed six tributes. At the end, with the corn splattered with blood and the wind rattling through its stalks, Keres stood there at the Cornucopia where she began, sword dug into the other tribute from One. The cannon had gone off just as she had pushed him off her blade with a smile. There was no remorse in her cold eyes, just satisfaction that she had one. Let them all see what a real victory looked like, unlike the pathetic excuse they had for a rebellion.

[CW: sexual themes, prostitution, age-difference relationships] After her games, Keres had been the belle of the ball. A dazzling young woman with a charm and a glimmer to her eyes, from a loyal district. Easily had she assumed the mantle of the first Victor since this new iteration of the games. Speaking in interviews, she had spoken of the honor that came with her victory, how more should aspire to serve in the way she had. The splendor of what she had become.

Many sponsors and Capitol elite wanted time to have a moment with her. When she was told what her next duty would be, her next service, Keres did not balk. Her own mother had married for wealth, before becoming a husk of a woman due to the vapid nature brought on by the drugs and her lifestyle. Keres saw nothing wrong with using her body as a weapon of its own. Snow would give her the names, and she would show up and dazzle, as she was expected. Of course, this was not just for the honor of her service to Panem, no. Every little bit along the way, she was able to advance her own personal interests and goals. Between her activities between the sheets and as a Mentor, it was not hard to see how influential Keres became.

Finally, she advanced another step of her plan, marrying an influential Capitolite named John Lancaster. With connections to Snow and power in the city, Keres cemented herself as a member of the aristocracy. Unlike her witless mother, however, Keres saw herself as an equal to John, and he viewed her the same. It was not a relationship borne of love, but mutual respect and ambition. A recognition that together, they could be something truly spectacular. They would attend the Capitol events together, Keres on his arm and in his ear. This connection had ended her services for Snow, but she had been offered a new role - something that made her heart which craved control sing.

The Games are a commodity, and they are something that Keres is proud to provide. After a stint as a mentor and as Snow’s luxury to dole on preferred followers, and with her marriage to Lancaster, Keres was given a job working with the Gamemakers. Specifically, she was prized for her ability to see a vision, a product which could be marketed. Thus, Keres worked in the media side of the Hunger Games, rising through the ranks until she became Executive Producer. The camera cuts, the angles, the drama. All of it was something she directed, trying to sell the story, to show the glory and the victory of the games.

Often, Keres sees the people on the screen as the potential stories she could tell using the visuals she provides. This work makes her proud, and makes her know that her father would be proud of her. Here, she can show the might of the uniformity, and being a single nation, of falling into line. Here, she can show what happens when you decide to remove the rules, what happens when people try to be the hero and rise up. A push shot here, a zoom shot there. Shots of blood splattered on the ground from one who made a bad choice. This is what she envisioned, being able to be a part of something this big, this magnificent. To show the evils of discord.

When John passed away from age – not a surprise considering he was her well her senior – Keres threw herself into her work more. A monolith to who she was, a legacy to retain for eternity. History would remember her, and what she helped the Games become. The stories she helped tell. A machiavellian mastermind who knew how to skew the visuals, to tell the story she wanted people to see. Cutting the cameras and the film, picking the dialogue she wanted, marketing it to who she pleased. This is her zenith, her pinnacle.

After the mess that was the 134th games (which if anyone had asked her opinion, she wouldn’t have gone through this farce and just said to kill the man on trial like properly done instead of giving him the chance of life, although it was a good spectacle, a good story), Keres finally decided to lower herself to interact with those who she looked at on the screen. Sure, she knew many of the Mentors already – after all she had been the one to tell their stories, but clearly things had begun to get out of hand.

No, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. So she would get her hands dirty, coming down from her tower to make sure the story was told correctly. Rebellion simmering again, she would show them what happens to those who try to break ranks. Once again, history was repeating itself, these fools thinking they have all the answers, that they know better. Not realizing that once again the shortsightedness of their crusade would be the downfall. It was time for her to get back in the trenches, to learn the stories herself instead of them being told to her. Meeting the people, looking them in the eye, selling the narrative. It had been a while since she had done so, preferring to remain aloof, to tell the narrative as it unfolded on the screen and from her sources.

Since her ascension to her current role, Keres had only waded back into the swamp once. When another beautiful girl by the name of Cressida had volunteered, the same hungry look on her face. Due to a leave of absence at the time, Keres had stepped back for those games, choosing to mentor once again. It would not be hard for her to acquire sponsors afterall. Not the maternal type, she knew her legacy would never reside with children, and so she had the luxury of hand picking a successor. And this young girl, she would be it.

Ruthless and a weapon, Keres had been proud of her, guiding through her games and what came after. What her role would be, grooming her to follow in her own footsteps. A perfect commodity for District One, how people were so foolish to think that only referred to find jewels and other luxuries. No, beauty was a commodity, and a weapon, and much like Keres, Cressida had the mind to go with hers. How disappointing it was, then, when she fell in with a rebel. Even the good ones spoil, and Keres was determined still to find someone she could groom to be perfect, to follow in her footsteps. And if Cressida would no longer do, well, that was fine. She would just choose someone else.

Most other mentors in the Tower do not know her beyond the time she Mentored Cressida, if they were serving then. Otherwise, she went back into her Gamemakers den, continuing her job as someone who sold the narrative. Of course she would attend the galas and balls, but never as a representative of her district. No, One was well in the past for Keres, a distant memory that she had escaped. Now, she thoroughly lived in the present and future, a Capitolite, bearing even a Capitolite last name and exerting the influence that came along with it.

Even those who do not know her seem to get the message quickly that she is not one to be trifled with. Manicured nails, never a hair out of line, paint on her lips and a chill in her eyes. Keres walks into every room like she owns it, commanding attention. Her very aura is that of power and arrogance. Never does she look disheveled, always like at any moment she could appear on screen. Whenever she smiles, it's often a thin line of her lips, or a charming one that carries danger behind it. Everything about Keres reminds of the deadliness of the Arena – and of herself. For not only could she kill with her weapons, but words and wits too.

[+ ambitious] [+ methodical] [+ intelligent] [- arrogant] [- vicious] [- manipulative]

PENNED BY: BEL

#oc rpg #oc rp #lsrpg #lsrp #hunger games rpg #accepted #keres

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arthdoesart · 1 year ago

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youtube

"Hopefully, the Districts have the sense to be sympathetic with Miss Goldcross' situation," Paylor did not want to think of a few others (maybe even more) gaining the sickening courage to take revenge now that the situation between them and the Capitol has been reversed. She still definitely considered it, though.

The image of the scoreboard made them experience the awful sense of deja vu, reminding them of the former betting system that the Capitols would often hold before the games. President Paylor scowled towards the glaring percentage of 39 with at least eighty-eighty thousand people voting against Sara Goldcross’ odds in spite of everything she had to endure on live television. Seeing which District voted the most for her potential mutilation, she wasn’t entirely surprised by it.

It didn’t mean she can’t be livid.

“I need to make an announcement to the two former Career Districts that they need to score a little higher at least,” Paylor turned to her Secretary of Communications, who at a glance, also mirrored a portion of her own seething and quiet judgment. “Do you think you can sneak a message to them? Preferably something that isn’t noticeable, something that wouldn’t take the attention of these hijackers away…in case that they might decide to take it out on the children.”

“Might is not a word I would use to describe them,” Plutarch almost jeered based on his surging anger. “They would most likely hurt them unannounced if they’re able to catch up with what we’re doing.”

“You think they’ll care if they knew we’re influencing the Districts’ decisions?”

Paylor was quiet over the lingering darkness that shrouded his face.

“They mutilated Yarwood for getting a low score, even though that was our mistake for not providing a passcode on time. They had the Goldcross girl go through a specific type of punishment relating to the shadiness of Onyx Obsidian in the past. I honestly doubt that they wouldn't do something like that if things come to it, ” Plutarch recited calculatedly like a new programmed robot. Paylor stared at him in confusion for a while, mutely probing him for an explanation with her eyes.

Chapter 4 of Royale Capitol Games is out now :)

The Royale Capitol Games (32443 words) by PinkMuseSundays Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Alma Coin/Plutarch Heavensbee, Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair (mentioned), Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark, Katniss & Primrose Everdeen (mention), Haymitch Abernathy & Plutarch Heavensbee, Caesar Flickerman & Plutarch Heavensbee, Fulvia Cardew & Plutarch Heavensbee, Alma Coin & Plutarch Heavensbee Characters: Plutarch Heavensbee, Alma Coin, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Effie Trinket, Beetee Latier, President Paylor, Johanna Mason, Annie Cresta, Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair's Son, Finnick Odair (mentioned), Enobaria (Hunger Games), Caesar Flickerman, Coriolanus Snow, Coriolanus Snow's Granddaughter, Fulvia Cardew, Gale Hawthorne, Original Characters Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Thriller, Mystery, Kidnapping, Romance, Drama & Romance, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games), Fourth Quarter Quell, Inspired by Black Mirror (TV), Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, 76th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe, Child Death, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Capitol Hunger Games, Suffering!Heavenscoin, Funny!Hayffie, Veteran!Everlark, Canon-Typical Violence, Hunger Games Victors, Victors as a Family (Hunger Games), Plutarch and Haymitch bromatism, Plutarch "I'm so stressed out" Heavensbee, Alma "This is what I fucking deserve" Coin, Caesar "That's how you put on a show" Flickerman, Symbolic Hunger Games Series: Part 4 of The odds came with blood and peppermints Summary: "To remind the Capitol that their nefarious deeds will never be forgotten, twenty-four children are reaped from their families to participate in a Battle Royale. Unlike its predecessor, the tributes are chosen at random despite their age, sex, and societal status." The voice chuckled over the last line, as if disbelieving any of the kids from the Capitol were beyond poorer than the high middle-class citizens. "…of course, tributes who refuse to participate within the rules of the game will have their shock collars activated. Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first ever Royale Capitol Games, with it also being the Fourth Quarter Quell from the discontinued series of the Hunger Games." The announcer laughs, unaware of the sheer number of Capitol parents that have fainted from the live announcement. They were giddy for a while at having to recite the dreaded line, along with a sickening twist added by the end. "And may the odds ever grant you their favors." Pairings; Heavenscoin with a side of Hayffie & Everlark.

#hunger games #heavenscoin #hayffie #everlark #my fic #capitol hunger games #fic on ao3 #Youtube

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3fluffies · 2 years ago

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Fic Update: Favors (Hunger Games AU)

Favors. AU from the end of the 74th Hunger Games. After the two-winner rule is revoked, Peeta takes his own life before Katniss can stop him. Her grief-driven words over his body still defy the Capitol and endanger everyone left that she loves. Haymitch and the other victors struggle to help her navigate the dark, dangerous world of mentoring and forced prostitution…and in the end, she still becomes the Mockingjay.

Chapter 40: Not In Single Spies, But In Battalions: This 76th reaping may break the will of not only Katniss, but Gale. We get a new POV of the aftermath, and on the train through Haymitch's eyes, the other reapings show the Capitol's retaliation in every district. We finally learn Haymitch's tribute talent, and Katniss faces a grim, possibly futile choice as District 12's 76th tributes arrive at the Capitol.

Enjoy! Discussion and debate joyfully welcomed, as are questions and criticism of all kinds! Feedback! My kingdom for feedback!

My other in-progress Hunger Games fic, A Headcanon Encyclopedia of Panem has a new Panem map in Chapter 1!

I’ve finally debuted a short story, Mine Eyes Dazzle, with my spin on the marriage of Coriolanus Snow, his wife’s her role in his rise to power…and her ultimate fate!

I’ve also debuted a new fic that collects outtakes and extended scenes that I cut from Favors. The first chapter, Sour Grapes, about Katniss’s first lunch with her fellow victors during the 75th Quarter Quell, is up.

#my fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction #panem #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #delly cartwright #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #hunger games au #76th hunger games #hazelle hawthorne #romulus thread #madge undersee #rory hawthorne

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rivka-kopelman · 4 years ago

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Delivery Lemur Logbook : 6

December 27th, 3431

“OK that's 35,000 damn ants,” said Gutlug the polar bear, pressing the seal down on the glass box.

“They've got enough damn honey for 9 damn days,” added her brother, Dugbert.

It's me Delivery Lemur (deliveremur) on planet Szymański, picking up some special equipment – the Arthropod Neuro-Transistor (A.N.T.) kit.

“Try it on,” prompts Gutlug, helping me adjust the shoulder straps and lowering the cranial adapter to cup the back of my head. See, I'm going into Psy Sanctuary Space to deliver some printer ink. The ambient neuro-pressure in an all-psychic population would ruin a normal brain like mine just by impulse propogation, even with no malicious intent (i'm told). The A.N.T. kit fractionates your brainwaves into packets small enough for ant brains, then filters them through the colony, and feeds a digital composite back to your head. “Hardly one damn millisecond of lag, you won't notice any damn difference. Much lighter than the old B.E.E. kits, and no effect on temper.” It goes ding as it turns on.

“I do feel normal,” I say. “This will work down on Febris, yeah?”

“Don't worry. I used this exact kit on Vyrykon. The psys I tested it with said it was like trying to read 35,000 damn books at once,” Dugbert assured me.

“INVITE DE-LEMUR FOR DINNER!” bellowed someone down in the living room.

“Shut up Mom,” Gutlug cried.

“DUGBERT. COME FIX THE TV (TELEVISION) IT'S STILL FUCKED UP!” roared another voice. “Shut up Dad,” Dugbert answered. “Dunno what he thinks I can do about it. There are sporadic internet outages all over galaxy 1 lately. Damned Possum Patrol is sabotaging the network, I'd bet anything.”

“The tabloids blame the Floom Empire,” added Gutlug. “But that's based on nothing. ”

Not a byte of data from the Floom Expedition has been made public. You hear rumors, but one thing’s as crazy as the next.

“Yeah weird,” I contribute. “OK what do I owe ya?” I wouldn't mind staying for dinner, whatever

“&25.5R”

I pay and say goodbye. Setting course for Febris, keyworld of Psy Sanctuary Space. This will be my first time in there. The Sanctuary is enormous btw, encompassing all of galaxies 2, 3, and 4. I fall asleep listening to an old podcast and wake up ten hours later to a fax notification. “You are leaving the jurisdiction of the bureau of public space administration. It is illegal to transport ZUD particle generating machinery into Psychic Sanctuary Space (see subsection 1 of the Dept. Of Justice -- Consolidated Prohibitions and Regulations, 3411)” blah blah whatever

There it is. I double check the A.N.T. thing and it looks good. Landing clearance confirmed. My fax machine is going like a waterfall with all these warnings and edicts. Whatever. I take my first step outside. Alright ants do your stuff.

There's nobody around. It's quiet besides the bass hum of large rune projectors. I'm looking for the public office co-op in the South 76th district, City-8. I believe that's to the left. The landing spire is the only landmark here so it should be easy to find again. I hit the street. It's got that perfect plastic feel, like a new phone. It's weird to step on but I like it. After half an hour I'm noticing the weight of this A.N.T. kit a lot more. I reach the 76th district, passing under the sterile electric glimmer of a holographic arch. I'm catching a whiff of sewer smell.

None of these buildings are marked. I'll just knock at the biggest one. There's no answer but it's not locked. I'll just go in. Big big mistake. Thousands and thousands of human bodies are in there. They stink. But they're just dirty (!?) They're sleeping, I thought. Or.. "Not asleep, not dead," I heard from below. I was standing on someone. "Hiya there" "Oh sorry, jeez" I took my paw off her stomach and she sat up. Her hair looks like it had never ever been washed and her chocolate eyes carried heavy bags of insomnia. "You're alright ~ I should take a break anyway. Ehehe, I never met a lemur before ~ Want to talk to me? What are you up to right now?" "I'm here delivering some ink. Printer ink." "Aahh ~That sounds like fun," she said, stretching her arms. "No one ordered ink. There's a printer over in the old annex though, want to see it?" "Uh i-" There was a sound like thunder far away, it swelled and in a second it washed over us – a wave of laughter that came from every mouth. All the humans on the floor suddenly cackled, just for a few breaths. The outburst rippled away out of earshot. "Sorry deliveremur," the woman said. " That happens a lot here. Someone on the other side of the planet will think of something funny and people pass it on ~ Do you want me to tell you the joke?" "Sure why not" "You wont get it ~ ha! So anyways...ah!" She tried to get up but seemed to decide it was too hard. She crawled over a bunch of humans to get to a really old one and started changing their diaper. Her tired face shone with fondness. "Do you like our city, Deliveremur?" She asked, putting the old diaper in a pillowcase and twisting it shut. "It's nice," I say politely. "It's big." "Thank you! I think so too." With an effort she gets to her feet. Her gait is teetering, nigh drunken. "Come on, I've got to put this somewhere" she hefts the sack of waste. "And I'll show you the printer ~ I know where it is." Tiptoeing around the recumbent humans, expecting them to all start howling or something at any second, I follow this woman.

“It's an exciting week on Febris, you know?” she's chatting away. “The painter 謙卑 and the playwright අත් ප came down from the conservatory on thursday ~ so lots of fresh material is circulating. Juust a sec gotta stop again.”

My guide eases herself onto the ground next to an emaciated human and shakes a few kelp crackers out of a crinkled plastic bag lying nearby. She talks while munching. “This is the farthest thing from anyone's notice haha ~ bodily stuff, I mean.” She leaned in and passed the chewed food into the skinny human's mouth. “We procrastinate on chores a lot haha ~~~ Focusing hard on cooler things!” She reaches out and I help her to her feet. “Thanks!” She drops the diaper bag into a waste chute and we start up a big staircase. Even the steps are covered with slumped bodies. Everyone wears a simple loose garment like a hospital gown, cinched in the back with 1 knot. “Are you from galaxy 1?”

“Yeah, I'm from Cloudout.” I tell her “You?”

“I was born on Zag-IX.”

“Ah.”

“You've traveled to all sorts of planets, ay?”

“Yup”

“I've only seen a couple places. But Febris is the best.” She eats some of the kelp snack. “Want one?”

“OK,” I say, and reach out for a cracker but she puts her mouth on my mouth and gives me a chewed one. This is a 5/10 experience

“We're not famous for our cuisine haha ~ But you should get some MP3s while you're here. So, where was your last stop?”

“Uh. Uhhh, I was on Szymański yesterday to get this box of ants.”

“Hmm... Thorny spot? Did you like it? Very green, right? You like grey scenery more.”

“Yup. Oh hey...” Was that a lucky guess?

“Oh! Sorry about that!”

I smack my crate of ants. “Does this even work? Can everyone here read my mind?”

“Only me! I can't help it ~ don't worry! A.N.T. kits work great. I just have a knack.” “Jeez. The guy said it was impossible.”

She shrugged and gave me a contrite look, then popped a few kelp crackers.

“Oh, here's the printer ~ Yup, definitely out of magenta ink. This thing automatically emails the supplier when it runs out. That's amazing.”

“Yes. Here you go,” I victoriously hand over the ink thing (the first successful delivery in Delivery Lemur history?!) and take out my pad of receipts. “I've got a proof-of-delivery form here.”

“I can sign for it, yeah. Do you have a pen?”

I --- actually do! It's happening! “Yes.” I hand it over. She scribbles on the slip and passes it back.

“You're feeling something very interesting ~~ that's a nice mind you have. Chill and orderly. I like it very much,” she says, penetrating the plastic package with a fingernail. “Oh deliveremur. This is green ink!” Motherfucker. All this trouble for nothing, as always. I'm about to crumple up the proof-of-delivery, but I spot the signature.

Mocha Menosky

What. Really, what? I am shocked speechless; nevertheless, my feelings are grasped.

“Oh Lemur! You listen to my podcast ~ You have heard every episode. I'm so glad you like it!”

“You created It's Bullshit: Forever Countdown?”

“Yes ~ It's my therapy,” Mocha Menosky bubbles. “A brain that's counting is like a warm blanket for me to crawl into. It's the simple rhythm, it turns the volume down on the universe. I'd be lost without it ~ I'm very very very sensitive.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Do you want to know my secret origin? This is the biggest secret in the whole world, can you keep it?”

“I can,” I say.

“You can ~ When I was little, and all alone,” Menosky began, “I hurt lots of people. I didn't know the world was separate from my imagination ~ I thought i was the only real person. When I found out all the characters in my head were actual people, it made me very happy.”

“Characters in your head? What do you mean?”

“Hmm ~ Did you know psys can bridge brains an average 13 yards away? The range goes down if you connect more people, or if there's resistance.”

“OK.”

“Yeah! Then there's me ~ my sense has no limit on it at all.” Menosky whispers this in a mock-mystical voice so it wouldn't sound like bragging. I looked out at the dark sprawl of the metropolis.

“You can read every mind in the city? Or the whole planet?”

“No Lemur ~ Every mind. From Clockmarsh to Mercury. Well ~ Some go behind those awful ZUD machines. And some diseased brains are dark clouds to me. But besides that ~ If I listen hard, I can pick out anyone.”

Slowly I absorb what she's saying and realize, if it's true, I'm standing next to the most dangerous person that ever lived.

The hurt on Menosky's face makes me recoil. Stepping back, I bump into the desk and hear glass break. Ants are leaking out of my backpack. Uh oh. At once, the humans on the floor start to spasm. Blinding pain slices and chomps my every nerve. I'm frozen in a wall of eyes, a hundred people are screaming between my ears. I'm shivered to bits, disintegrating, disintegrating: did not think i was going to die today: My memories are going out, my me is someone(s) else, and something something something something something something something something something? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

“I'll protect you!”

A. hand. is. very tight on my paw, dragging me. I have no strength. Am I somebody? My head is crowded with so many people. These minds are not mine / they're drowning me. She gives me something like air. The noise-storm pulling out every strand of my being comes to a standstill, mastered by an undeniable will ~ a shimmering holy inferno. A crashing flood of chaos and terror and madness is about to destroy me but I am shielded by someone. My melted psyche that trickled out is scooped back in. She is wrestling the inner gears of nature's primordial order. What am I thinking here?? Who are all these people? I'm tangled up. The damp handle of a shovel, updraft, the taste of mint, a song, a flute, regret, sunshine, gel nails, birch bark, sobbing, curtains ~ rough canvas texture, a school scene, a dance scene, backspace-backspace, an old joke, an old cut, limestone, lemonade, a plucked eyelash, grandma, the hotel, the chains. Who are all these people?

I'm being dragged? Wiresapricotsclaywebsitewheel wbbsekguwieurywiweyisfoisuf! Mocha Menosky is in my head, holding it shut against the deadly outside world. It's 99x more intimate than sharing that seaweed. Some warm emotion purifies me ~ Am I me? (deliveremur), that sounds right.

∞

I woke up fully after a little while. Mocha Menosky was sitting next to me. "Im glad you're feeling better," she croaked. She looked bad and even smelled bad. "You saved me," I wheeze. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome ~ Lemur. You smell also."

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that." I glance around. We're in an empty amphitheatre. Before I can ask:

"This is our conservatory ~ on a secret rock up in orbit.”

“I had to get you away from the crowd. They're very sorry for what happened! They tried to hold it back. Your normie brain just isn't seaworthy on Febris. If you don't have a psy sense filtering the dense brainwaves, they can carry you away."

"Yup. Very overwhelming," I say. "Thanks again for the rescue. That was intense."

She smiled kindly. "I feel your gratitude and regret. You hate burdening others and you know I carried you to the shuttle."

"Yeah."

"You're light but ~ I'm not in very good shape," Menosky laughed, and flinched.

"Headache?" I intuit.

"A little bit," she says, but I think it's a lie. "Little lie."

Menosky reclined across three upholstered chairs and massaged her temples. "Want to do some counting? It'd make me feel better. You as well."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Count to a million for me?"

This is the best day of my life.

End of log 6

#Delivery Lemur

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gloryand-gorerp · 5 years ago

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Hey guys! So Trixie isn’t around right now, so I thought I’d pop in. I am so happy to see a couple new followers and an application! We are hoping to get this group off the ground and thriving.

That said, you are probably wondering who we are, right?

Glory & Gore is a Hunger Games based writing group centered around the idea of “What if Katniss and Peeta didn’t win the 74th Annual Hunger Games? What is the Quell twist of ‘Victors only’ was actually the twist mandated at the beginning?

Cato wins the 74th. Enobaria wins the 75th. The Rebellion is squashed and security is upped in the districts that dared defy the Capitol. The Hunger Games go on.

So, we are looking for applications for tributes, mentors, escorts and stylists of the 76th Annual Hunger Games. Who will be the next Victor? It could be you.

May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor

-KyAnne

#The Hunger Games #the hunger games rp #thg rp #the hunger games writing group #cato #enobaria #76th annual hunger games #quarter quell #thg #may the odds be ever in your favor #Katniss x peeta #katniss #peeta #clove #haymitch #cinna #Effie trinket #caesar flickerman #the capitol

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ttwsponsorsweekly · 6 years ago

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verena, what's the scoop on this year's tributes??

OH. MY. GOD. Listen up EVERYONE because the 78th Hunger Games are bound to be the best, most dramatic Games YET. We are talking siblings and significant others of past tributes (MULTIPLE ONES), a couple of the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen, and of COURSE some CRAZY FIERCE Careers!!!

District One wouldn’t be District One if there wasn’t a showstoppingly drop-dead gorgeous girl tribute volunteering to take that stage, would it?? Ashanti Simmons is ONE TO WATCH. Listen, our D1 girls have NEVER failed us and this girl is already at the top of everyone’s watch list!!

District Two keeps coming SO CLOSE and I feel it in my bones that this is the year they could take it home!!! Now I hear from my little twittering birds that Josiah Delisle is THE one and only boyfriend of our dearly departed Leon so the drama WRITES ITSELF. and SPEAKING OF DRAMA I heard a rumor of a rumor that Ingrid Bray wasn’t even supposed to be going into the Games??? It was ANOTHER girl who hit her head or something so I have a feeling Two is gonna be a WILD RIDE this year!!!

IS IT JUST ME OR DO WE HAVE A GHOST??? Demelza Oberon is the twin sister of one of our old faves from the 76th Games, Dayta!!! Her sister was, like, the smartest person to ever go through the Games so I cannot WAIT to see what kind of tricks our new girl from Three has up her sleeve. And how rare is it to get TWO volunteers from a place like Three??? I can’t wait to see what Ember Lowell has up his sleeve!!!

District Four is looking FINE this year!!! Can someone get me Kai Eldoris’s number??? You know I have a soft spot for cute ginger boys and after Landon left me high and dry last year I need a new tribute man!!! But then again Misty Shore might turn me. Homegirl is gorgeous AND a sweetie!!! Looks like District Four is going in a completely new direction with their tributes this year and I am HERE. FOR. IT.

SPEAKING OF GHOSTS. Who here remembers Ampere, AKA the girl who served some MAJOR sexual tension on the ropes course with our most recent Four victor, only to finish it off with the DRAMA of a hot makeout and HER OWN DRAMATIC DEATH. Well I think we’re about to see that same level of excitement from her sister Joule Shapiro!! It’s gotta run in the family, right???

Ok, I’m going to need someone to check in on Royce Carter. Is he ok??? Does he need, like, a glass of water or something because our new boy from Six looks out of it and to be honest??? I’ll have what he’s having!!! (Listen, I may be a shining spectacle of a blogger and human being but that doesn’t mean I don’t dabble in some fun every now and then!!!)

Rumour has it that our cute boy from D7 actually goes by Wilder, instead of the name that was called at the Reaping (Elio Sartori, btw). We love a mystery man!!! and is it me or is there some CRAZY tension between him and DP Laurel Oaken?? I don’t know about you guys, but I ship it!!

District Nine brought us another babe with two names!! Aspen Fields reportedly goes by Maisie back home! We love a cute nickname! And Couscous Dale’s brother Quinoa broke our hearts last year when he died in the bloodbath. I hope he lasts at least a teensy bit longer!!

Finley Ottern from Ten is just the cutest little bean!!! Watch out for her token; she’s brought a notebook with her so that she can tell you all her thoughts on paper, because she doesn’t like to talk out-loud. Major Hunger Games fans will recognise her surname; her brother was killed back in 69!

I’m not sure what to make of Twelve’s little one, but she’s definitely someone to keep an eye on. My friends tell me that Dahlia Hornby is wild, in a raised-by-wolves kind of way. I’m sure she’ll be just adorable beneath all that mud, though, and I for one can’t wait to see it!!

#hashtag 78 #ashanti #josiah #ingrid #demelza #november #kai #misty #joule #royce #wilder #laurel #aspen #couscous #finley #dahlia

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tothewaterhq · 6 years ago

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RECAP: THE 76TH GAMES

The tributes rose up into the middle of a grassy expanse that held the Cornucopia. The Arena was massive, especially compared to the haunted house from the most recent Quarter Quell. A lake and a castle dominated the landscape with a forest occupying the middle portion, leaving countless caves, nooks, and clearings that would soon house one of the most exciting Games in recent years.

The initial Bloodbath was unique in its onslaught of tributes turning on their partners: one of the smallest tributes, Fiona Pope of Two, killed her District Partner Apollo Brickman in a courageous act of self-defence. Shay Mattingly of Six swiftly took out her partner Ford as she escaped with a sleeve of throwing knives, and even the allies from District One, Vega Nero and Alex Brite, got into a frantic squabble over a broadsword. As pairs and trios of alliances fled the Cornucopia, six cannons fired to signal the beginning of a gruelling six day-long Games.

As the tributes settled into the Arena on the first night, the dangers had not yet been fully released, allowing the groups to settle in and explore. As the sun rose on the second morning, animals began to fill the Arena. Murderous Shetland ponies, cows with razor-sharp horns, and tiny Pine Martens that packed a ferocious bite joined mythical creatures like kelpies as they roamed the terrain. Two girl gangs began to form: one trio of gentle District Nine tribute Arista Baize, the little District Ten spitfire Kathryn Huntington, and tough-as-nails District Five tribute Vida Oldridge, and a pairing of Fiona Pope of Two and Shay Mattingly of Six.

Shay and Fiona teamed up to kill the pair from District Four, Cascade and Triton, in a nail-biting fight, while Kathryn proved that tiny truly could be mighty as she defeated Arion Barker of District Seven. Jules Churchill fought and killed Monty Byrd of Ten, as two lone wolves collided. A thunderstorm additionally crashed down on the tributes, soaking them all to the bone and forcing them to seek shelter throughout the Arena.

However, despite the stakes of the Games, love was in the air. Alex Brite of One snuck away from his ally, Vega, in order to rendezvous with Levi Jameson of Twelve, in a brief and whirlwind romance that took the Capitol by storm. Levi, who had paired up with his District Partner and best friend Kaliope Hilade, sent Alex back to his partner with the promise that both of them would remain alive to meet again the next day. Meanwhile, Panem watched with bated breath as fourteen year-old Hudson Stark pulled together traps and caught food, even sharing a squirrel with his District partner Vida.

On the third day of the Games, faeries emerged from the woodwork to challenge and annoy the tributes. They stole supplies, tied knots in hair and in shoelaces, and were surprisingly resilient for their size. As the day continued, Alex and Levi met up once again, while Kali and Vega ran into each other while searching for their lovesick partners. Unfortunately, by the time Kali and Vega agreed to work together, it was too late: Alex and Levi had been attacked by a kelpie mutt, and the girls killed the mutt before it could get a chance to kill them as well. District Eight’s Paige Mannan additionally fell victim to the mutts, in the form of a deadly wound from one of the razor-horned cattle.

Needing drama after a slow third day, the Gamemakers created an earthquake that shook the foundations of the castle, sending the main source of hiding in the Arena crumbling down. An assortment of tributes were inside the castle as it crumbled. The destruction put a fight between Arista Baize and Vida Oldridge on hold as the girls escaped just in time. Both Eight’s Zeek Degray and Seven’s Jules Churchill were caught in the castle, but after a gruelling eight hour ordeal of fighting her way out, only Jules escaped to tell the tale.

Elsewhere in the Arena, the new alliance of Vega and Kali attacked Fiona and Shay, and Shay sacrificed herself to give Fiona enough time to escape. Fiona ran off just as Kali delivered the killing blow to the girl from Six. Distraught with grief, Fiona ran into Kathryn Huntington, and the two ferocious little girls fought hard before Fiona ultimately killed Kathryn. Dayta Oberon was then caught in a snare, and while Arista Baize cut her down from the tree, it was too late: Dayta was ultimately wounded by a pony mutt, and Arista mercy killed her to ease the pain.

Capitol audiences continued to grow restless at the slow pace of the Games, and thus a feast was called. All water sources in the Arena grew toxic and distorted, and the only fresh water could be found at the Feast. Arista Baize attempted to escape the fight by hiding in the Cornucopia and running off with her bottle, but was attacked by Hudson of District Five, and killed the younger boy in the ensuing fight. As the feast grew bloodier, Vega Nero killed Vida Oldridge of Five, while Fiona Pope was overcome with anger and vengeance, and pinned Kali to the table with her knives before killing her. And in a heart-wrenching display of hubris, Vega Nero neglected her survival training and died on the beach after consuming toxic water.

With only three tributes left, the stakes raised. Only Arista of Nine, Fiona of Two, and Jules of Seven remained. As the Shetland ponies herded the girls together, Arista fell victim to their powerful and brutal hooves, collapsing in the grass and placing third. Fiona and Jules fought viciously, but in the end, Jules and her brass knuckles got the upper hand. Rigor mortis set in, and Fiona died on her feet just as she was going in for another try at her life. Jules was taken from the Arena, the “lone wolf” becoming the Victor of the Games.

Characterized by unlikely alliances, fierce female competitors, and bonds that reached far past District lines, the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games was truly one to remember.

FINAL PLACINGS //

1. Jules Churchill, District 7 // Victor of the Games 2. Fiona Pope, District 2 // killed by Jules Churchill 3. Arista Baize, District 9 // killed by pony mutts 4. Vega Nero, District 1 // killed by ingestion of toxic water 5. Kaliope Hilade, District 12 // killed by Fiona Pope 6. Vida Oldridge, District 5 // killed by Vega Nero 7. Hudson Stark, District 5 // killed by Arista Baize 8. Dayta Oberon, District 3 // killed by Arista Baize 9. Kathryn Huntington, District 10 // killed by Fiona Pope 10. Shay Mattingly, District 6 // killed by Kali Hilade 11. Zeek Degray, District 8 // killed by castle cave-in 12. Levi Jameson, District 12 // killed by kelpie mutt 13. Alex Brite, District 1 // killed by kelpie mutt 14. Paige Mannan, District 8 // killed by arena dangers 15. Arion Barker, District 7 // killed by Kathryn Huntington 16. Triton Betram, District 4 // killed by Fiona Pope 17. Cascade Firth, District 4 // killed by Shay Mattingly 18. Montgomery Byrd, District 10 // killed by Jules Churchill 19. Blossom Juno, District 11 // killed by Vida Oldridge 20. Enzo Stalk, District 11 // killed by Zeek Degray 21. Apollo Brickman, District 2 // killed by Fiona Pope 22. Myron Barley, District 9 // killed by Kathryn Huntington 23. Ford Turner, District 6 // killed by Shay Mattingly 24. Dexter Code, District 3 // killed by Vega Nero

#games recap #76 #// apologies for the delay on this! it took a very long time to write #// there were so many alliances and stories so it was hard to figure out what ended up in the recap but everyone is mentioned at least once!

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arcaniux · 4 years ago

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MIMIHAGI-CULLED — AKIRA

A member of Seireitei’s new workforce of Rukongai workers Exiled from Sakahone, his home district that worships Mimihagi

“STEP BY STEP, ONE DAY AT A TIME, LET’S CARVE OUT OUR OWN FATES.”

Name: Sakahone Akira Species: Soul (???) Gender: Male (trans) Age: 120+

Affiliation: Miyazaki’s Shop, Seireitei Profession: Seireitei’s Rukongai Work Force Position: On Call Freelance Worker

Sakahone Akira is a member of Seireitei's new workforce of Rukongai workers that had been recently established after the events of the Quincy war. On top of being part of a division of the workforce where its members can take temporary jobs or be rotated between occupations, Akira also works as a janitor and an impromptu apprentice to the jeweler Mister Miyazaki, who operates a jewelry that also doubles as a novelty occult shop which seems to mysteriously draw in its clients with an air of nostalgic familiarity and shelves that almost always have whatever item it is that they are seeking.

Akira is from Sakahone, the 76th district in Eastern Rukongai that worships the right hand of the Soul King and guardian deity Mimihagi. Unbeknownst to outsiders, the town of Sakahone is culturally divided between the religious and the secular, and is the location where a tragedy dubbed by locals as 'The Day of Black Sky' occurred. The only pieces of evidence of Akira's history are his surname and the odd shadow-like 'kidō' he is capable of casting.

APPEARANCE

Biologically female, Akira is a relatively petite and young transman with rosy brown eyes and soft chestnut layered hair that contain no absence of cowlicks (regardless of his efforts to look presentable and tidy enough for work) and indication of a black undercut that's beginning to grow out from underneath his layered hair. He has a fair complexion and a healthy glow from spending a considerable amount of time in the sun, whether due to work obligations or engaging in his hobbies of sightseeing and sketching the sights he sees, and usually wears a smile or a 'deer in the headlights' expression on his face. He's known for having a honest face in that emotions such as joy, confusion, anxiety, and discomfort are very easily read from his expression alone.

For his attire, Akira commonly wears pedestrian clothes and captures the 'business-casual' look with a preference for neutral-colored clothes, often wearing a comfortable gray sweater over a white button-up without any tie. Depending on the occasion or his mood, he layers up with a simple blazer or a neatly tied scarf that seems too large for him. He usually carries his satchel with him on his right, where he keeps sketching materials, trinkets, and objects required work, such as his work-provided flip phone and the necessary papers needed to fill out applications on the spot.

PERSONALITY

While he's from the poverty-stricken outskirts of the Rukongai where survival of the fittest was key to living and was raised in the mysterious district of Sakahone, there's no outward indication of Akira's history in his personality in that he doesn't seem to retain any unsavory repercussions from his upbringing in the form of aggression or a suspicious nature. Generally easygoing and pleasant, Akira is a polite individual who treats others fairly and kindly, and does not resort to violence in his words or actions regardless of the stakes of the situation. Because of his natural tendency to lean toward diplomacy that almost seems superficial due to the uncanny ease which he does so, he's well-suited for the customer service type of jobs he takes. Possessing an aversion for conflict and a desire to keep his head low, he's prone to anxious behavior when suddenly placed on the spot, especially by others of greater significance who are inexplicably drawn to him despite his appearance and conduct of an average person. Akira's a firm believer in autonomy and the power of an individual's will, deciding that the circumstances of one's birth, the factors that they cannot alter, and concepts such as fate and destiny are ultimately irrelevant because people can make what they want of their lives and that those who interfere with others' ability to live their truths are the worst type of people. Oddly, he gives the impression of someone who does not know fear.

IC | MUSINGS | AESTHETIC | HEADCANONS

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geanmin · 4 years ago

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I haven't seen Peeta since I found him planting the primrose in my backyard. As I slowly come back to life, so does my realization of his absence. It must have been the way I ask for it that made Greasy Sae understand I was referencing Peeta's, because the next day the bread she brought me had little flowers on them, done by his hand.

Once Greasy Sae left, I remained alone in my house, once occupied by my sister, and my mom.

As I look around, it's like my memories come to life before me. I look at my fire place, and see my sister asking me to wait for her to try on wedding dresses. I look at my table, and see Gale lying there with his back bloody, my mother carefully tending to him. In my bed, I see Peeta holding me, as I fall asleep, nursing my broken ankle.

Peeta.

Even after he returned to District 12 a victor of the Hunger Games, his family never moved in with him. And after becoming a tribute for his second go, he never saw them again.

Empty. His house must be so empty of memories.

The bread he made was fresh this morning. How early did he wake up to bake it for me?

And when will I wake up to do something for him?

"You could live a thousand life times and never deserve him."

It feels like decades have past since I assassinated President Coin and Peeta prevented me from taking the nightlock. But, in reality, maybe it has been half a year of waiting for the end of my trial, and sitting alone in my house.

But it has been much longer than that since I have seen Peeta, my Peeta. The one that existed before the Capital got to him.

I hold my pearl, thinking of the Boy with the Bread, the boy who went into two Hunger Games with the sole agenda to protect me. And how did I treat him after he was hijacked? I gave up on him. Like he was dead. Like my Peeta was gone. And the whole time he was fighting, fighting to come back to me.

Of course, I may have had other things on my mind. Snow programming Peeta to be a muttation to murder me. President Coin putting him on my same mission to murder me, and of course being in a war, with random people trying to murder me. It was all difficult to navigate, but I could have been more kind.

Peeta was always the one with the words of our duo. How did I ever survive without him?

As I look at my pearl in my hand, and the locket on the table, something in my brain must have finally had the peace it needed to click.

No more Hunger Games. No more Snow. No more Coin. Just peace and quiet, that's all my brain needed to understand that not only could I never have survived without Peeta, I never will. And he feels the same.

We need each other.

I put my pearl safely in my pocket, and leave the locket in my room. Carrying around the faces of my loved ones is still a little too heavy at the moment.

I leave my house and cross the short distance to his, lessening the space between us.

I knock on his door, which feels oddly formal. But I don't want to come in unwelcome.

I know he would welcome me in, forgive me even. But that's not what I want. I don't want Peeta only thinking of keeping me alive. I want him to think of keeping us alive. Together. A team. A unit. A couple.

But we need to air out some grievances for that to be reality.

Finally, the door opens, and I see his face. Not washed out by the summer sun when he was planting, but clear in the shade of the porch roof. He no longer looks like the scared boy whose name was called at the reaping. Two years of Hunger Games will do that to you. He even has some stubble on his face for the first time.

“Katniss,” he says.

And I am overwhelmed. I slowly approach him, and wrap my arms around his neck. He accepts my embrace, holding me, just like he did on our train rides, sturdy and with care.

With his arms around me tightly, I feel butterflies in my stomach. I've felt this feeling before: in the cave in our first Hunger Games, on the beach in our second. Without the intense feeling of starvation, or anxiety of life or death, like my brain, my stomach now has the peace needed to figure out how it feels.

We must have stood there silently holding each other for ten minutes. If I had it my way, I would never let go. The last time I did that, he was lost to me.

There are no tears. We are well past that in our embrace. The grounding of reality is the true release.

Eventually he invites me in and I realize I have never been inside his house. Of course, it looks identical to mine and Haymitch's in layout, but Peeta has given it his own personal touch.

His paintings. You can't go anywhere without seeing one of his paintings. Either hung on the wall, or placed on the floor. He has flowers and houseplants in each batch of sunlight. And his kitchen, of course, bares no resemblance. Effie or someone must have installed a large baker's oven for him. It looks like a little paradise.

But the most stark difference is the smell.

Unlike Haymitch's house, which reeks of vomit and trash and alcohol, or my house, which used to smell like my mother's herbs, and now must smell like my personal body oder, Peeta's house smells sweet, like fresh bread. The clean air from the open windows lifts the sent, evening out the temperature. The entire place is heavenly.

He shows me in, and offers me a seat at his kitchen table as he puts hot water on for tea. He lingers by the stove a little too long I think. Maybe he doesn't know what to say. That can't be right... Peeta always knows what to say.

Oh, dummy. You're the one who came to him!

I wait for him to bring over the tea pot and cups (after refusing my help of course) and then I'm the first to speak.

“Peeta... I'm.... I'm sorry.”

How pathetic! After he was tortured to near death after you abandoned him? After he went through two Hunger Games for you? After he protected your secrets to the entire country for you? The only thing you have to say is I'm sorry????

Peeta smirks a little and catches my eye. I let out a small laugh. He does too. He was always better at this than me.

“Do you want to start over?” He smiles at me.

“Yes, please."

And there he goes again, so gracious, so forgiving. Haymitch was right; I don't deserve him.

"Uh... Peeta, I... where do I even begin..."

"Katniss, I know what you're trying to do. It's not your fault."

I want to say he's wrong. That everything that's happened to him is my fault. It's my fault I separated from him in the Quarter Quell. It's my fault I acted so cold to him when he came to District 13.

But it's not my fault he was reaped. That was the Capital. And it's not my fault he was deployed back into action when he was still mentally disoriented. That was the Rebellion. So much suffering he has endured by the hands of powerful people who never cared about him. But what about what I did, someone who was supposed to protect him?

"I think it's time we figured out what is and isn't my fault. I think it's time I apologize. For everything."

"You don't have to. I told you once, I can't hold you to what you did in the Games to keep us alive and well, I think that still stands seeing as the Games lasted longer than we thought."

I know what he's talking about. The Capital watching us closely after our victory of the 74th Hunger Games. Our return to the arena for the 75th. And of course... the 76th. With no downtime in between...

"I don't want your forgiveness. Well I mean... if you want to but... Peeta, I just need you to know the truth, of where my head was, where my heart was. If we're gonna move forward I need you to know the truth, to actually know the truth-"

"We?"

"Well, of course, 'we', I-" And as I repeat it, I hear it myself. We. Us. Together. "Yes. We."

And all of a sudden, the table is too long, the distance between us too great, and the vastness of my mistakes come alive.

How do I explain to him that I've figured it out? I say my brain finally made a decision? That seems cold. That my stomach is now clear-headed? That's a little...crude and confusing.

I may still get nightmares. And still struggle with needed...assistance from morphling. I may still lay in bed for the whole day. I may still wander around aimlessly. But it's far better than it was. I actually answer my phone when my doctor calls. I bring back game when I go hunting. And when I eat, I can actually taste the food.

I may have so much more work to do, but I can't do it alone. Because the work is in front of me.

It's not a matter of Peeta's forgiveness. Of course, he'll forgive me. It's not a matter of his understanding. He's the only one who even could. It's all a matter of my explanation, and we all know I'm not very good at that.

I look down and realized I haven't even touched my tea.

"Peeta... you know I'm not very good at...uh..."

"Expressing your feelings through words?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

He smiles at me again but this time, our eyes meet. When was the last time I had Peeta's eyes look at me so clearly, so presently? I will never take this gaze for granted again.

"You don't have to, Katniss. Or at least... not right this second. We have all the time in the world you need to find the words."

And just like that, the last organ in my body had what it needed to make its decision: time.

Before, our days were numbered. The future itself seemed horrific, and gruesome. The act of marrying Peeta was a charade for protection from Snow, and the idea of a family and kids was filled with fear of hearing their named reaped themselves. Too many people wanted me dead. Too many people wanted to use my image. I had too many lives on my shoulders, too many lives I had taken to warrant any hope of a future. But now that Panem has entered a new era, my heart has made its decision.

And now I know how to explain myself to the Boy with the Bread.

I reach for his hand across the table. Of course, he accepts and takes mine in his. I use my thumb to caress his knuckles. I'm here. I'm present. I want to give back, I say with my touch. He squeezes my hand in return, accepting my affection.

I remember our first reaping. We shook hands, and he squeezed mine. He was always looking out for me, even in the beginning.

The beginning.

"I'll have to start from the beginning."

"I know," he says, already a million steps ahead of me, as always.

How did I ever get so lucky with someone like him? Deep down, he really is better than the rest of us. Truly empathetic, truly selfless.

He guides my hand up, and my body follows.

"Come on," he says. "I want to show you something."

He leads me upstairs, into a small study. The same room in my house that President Snow visited me in before our Victory Tour. But everything is different in Peeta's house, because it has his touch. He's turned the study into his own personal painting studio.

I want to look around and take all of it in, but I can't. My eyes are glued to the largest canvas in the center of the room. So clearly, so beautifully, in a way that could only have been done by his hand, rests a portrait of my late sister, dead, but encased in flowers.

I walk up to the canvas, meaning to touch her face but deciding not to. I don't want to smudge the perfection.

She looks so young, so innocent. But of course, by the time the bombs came, she had grown up so fast, a necessity of war. The flowers surrounding her body and laced in her hair like a crown, are primrose. The various colors radiate around her, lifting her from the canvas. She looks like how Rue did when I said goodbye. But the flowers she holds in her hands are different.

"Katniss," he says. I realize I never let go of his hand. Peeta stands next to me, never eyeing his work, but looking at my face. "She's holding katniss flowers."

Of course, she is, I think. The white flowers with the purple and yellow specs rest on her heart as she so delicately displays them.

"I know before you said you hated my work but, I've started taking a different approach."

He's right that the first time I saw his paintings I hated them. They were so real, too real, depicting the horrors of the first Games we experienced together. I saw the images enough in my own nightmares, to see them reflected on canvas was painful.

"Peeta, she's perfect."

And I turn back to him, wanting to give him a kiss. But do we do that now? I don't want him to think I only would because of Prim. So many kisses I have given him in the past with unclear intentions. I will not do that to him moving forward.

"There's more, if you want to see."

And as I turn around and the room illuminates. Finnick. Mags. Wiress. Rue. Even Clove, and Cato. Everyone radiates off his canvas like gorgeous angles, resting in peace.

I look back at Peeta, who of course has never taken his eyes off of me. And I am reminded of a time when he forgot he was a painter, forgot his ability to capture the most delicate of moments. When the Capital succeeded in turning him into something he's not. Yet, here my Peeta stands before me.

"You're painting again."

"Thanks to you."

And he rubs my knuckles with his hand. I want to tell him he wouldn't have forgotten how to paint if it wasn't for me in the first place, but somehow I sense that not going to go over very well.

I notice our bodies have gotten closer together, almost magnetically. I feel the urge to kiss him again, but am afraid it's not the right moment. Too many staged kisses on my part in our past, I don't want to send mixed signals. We've gone through so much trauma, the last thing either of us needs is more confusion or gas-lighting. We should take this slow.

"Maybe we could go for a walk?," I say, attempting to break our trance, "Haymitch might be getting up soon, and we could-"

And that's when he kisses me. His hand, so delicate against my neck, coaxing me towards him. And our lips, fitting together with such familiarity, as if they've never been apart. He drops my hand as his slowly slides up my waist to my lower back. Not only do I allow it, I pull him in closer. My one hand courses through his hair while the other grabs his shirt on his chest.

It's a kiss of firsts: the first time we kiss since he's had stubble, and the little hairs tickle my cheeks. The first time we kiss alone, with no audience of the Capital or our friends. And the first time we've kiss with no ulterior motives of survival.

Of course, it's electric. I think back to our very first kiss in the cave, my very first time kissing a boy. Nothing could have prepared me for kissing Peeta now, as he holds me and doesn't let go. There's no hunger, no starvation, no fear. Just electricity coursing through my entire body.

When he breaks away, we're holding each other so tightly, as if we were in a cramped little closet. His eyes scan my face, like he's still in utter shock to have me. He gives his classic Peeta smile, filled with charm and charisma. How that smile didn't win me over alone should have been my defense for mental disorientation.

"You wanted to kiss me, real or not real?"

Did the doctors give him the power to read my mind or something???

"Real," I whisper as I pull him in for more.

There's no one to stop us. No Gamemakers to worry about, no one to bust through the door. We're completely alone, completely free.

Our hands find one another, and we hold them between our bodies. Peeta's strong embrace still making me feel safe and secure.

From our moment with the bread, to our Hunger Games, to District 13, Peeta and I have always found each other again. When I look at him, it feels so inevitable. It was always me and Peeta. I could never have won those games without him, secured our sponsors, even lead a rebellion. A mockingjay needs a jabberyjay, a fire needs a spark, and I need Peeta.

I go in for more, but Peeta stops me. He doesn't let go, but he loosens his grip on me. My feet bring me back to reality.

"I still get flashes, you know. I'm better of course but... it might not be safe for you to be alone with me like this."

"Peeta, I'm not leaving you again."

"And I'm not gonna lay my hands on you again."

"Peeta, that wasn't you."

"Yes, it was. Maybe you should-"

I dig into my pocket and pull out my pearl.

"You never once gave up on me. And I'm not giving up on you. Peeta, it's always been you."

Peeta's gaze follows my hand, back up to my eyes. Did he know I kept it? Held on to it every day, hoping for his return? He cocks his all-knowing smirk.

"I heard something the other day... how did it go? That if you press coal hard enough it turns into a pearl. Coal-expert, Dr. Everdeen, is this fact real, or not real?"

"Real, Dr. Mellark. Actually, it's highly improbable, but I've seen two pieces of coal merge to make one pearl with my very own two eyes."

"You don't say? Well, in that case, we should keep this pearl very close. It's one of a kind."

He chuckles and gives me a quick little kiss.

"I don't know how you managed to keep that little thing all this time."

And I look at him shocked, confused. Because it's the most obvious explanation of all.

"You have no idea the affect you have on me," I tell him.

"Show me, then," he says.

And that's exactly what I plan to do.

#the hunger games #everlark #peeta #katniss #fanfiction #hunger games

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