#does that make sense????

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

Did sum1 say DEAD Boy Detectives 🤨🤨

More info under cut but it’s a spoiler 4 a future fic, idk if ppl care abt that but fyi😭

V much inspired by This Post from hannaloony and This Fic (the phantoms here will never have their fill) by a hyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

[atefingersdagger]

unspoken feelings? more like angst opportunities! "every time I see you, my heart aches with things left unsaid" with clove's post-death arena projection perhaps?

“Every time I see you, my heart aches with things left unsaid.”

Thank you for the ask. Somewhat proud with this one! <3

---

‘Clove, I want you.’

It’s a thought, nothing spoken. He could- should have been honest after the scores, when she was in his bed, curled up at his side. Calmer breathing from her nose, calmer than earlier when he stopped her from ruining her laminated, wooden drawers with a stolen knife in pure anger.

But what is he supposed to know about regret? Cato learns from mistakes and disciplines himself with them. There is no point in regretting...

“I want you to stay with me.” He speaks in the present to her, kneeling and spear discarded.

She is prone, body lying, on the grass, and not on his mattress. A dent in her skull, at her temple, tells him she won’t last another few minutes. Clove is a goner, and he can’t seem to accept that.

...

‘I think you should stay with me.’

He had been cocky the next night, kissing her in a hallway of their floor while everyone else was asleep, hands on her cheeks like he could snap her neck easily. She returned it with a bite of his lower lip, only to pull away and hiss at him that he’s an idiot. Her blush told him that her veins were widening under her soft, pale skin.

That pale skin that is only draining further today, the blood loss at her arm from an arrow wound contributing to it. Clove’s chapped lips – losing their pink – let out a pained squeak, her tongue unable to give him more as he brushes his fingers over her dark, matted hair. Someone tell him she can be saved.

“Stay with me.”

...

‘My other side of the coin, the other half of the wishbone.’

They have a lot in common; arrogance, bloodlust, eagerness, and, worst of all, loyalty. The last had been getting in the way for a while, and it is biting him in the ass. It is teeth sinking while Clove gargles up saliva, a difficulty swallowing from intracranial hemorrhaging; a bleeding between the skull and brain.

She seems confused, like she doesn’t know who he is when he turns her stiff neck, hand lifting it and cradling her. Cato gathers she can’t talk, but if she could, she might ask him what is happening. An answer he wouldn’t be able to give her, leaving another thing unsaid.

“Win with me.” He begs.

...

‘Broken away too soon, and not evenly.’

After the interviews, they slept together in his bed again, but it involved sex. Her sweat had made her long, dark hair stick to her forehead, the back of it a tangle from rubbing against the pillow. A sight that he never wants to forget.

Even while a deep bruise, purple and red, is forming at the area of impact, Cato does not regret meeting her. Or getting close to her, for that matter. There is no point in regretting...

“Don’t leave.”

He said that before, when she was standing up from his mattress, her backside facing him and beautiful. She was blushing still, but her glare had returned into being sharp, a change from the contortion of pleasure it had for the past hour. Clove laughed that he was pathetic, but he didn’t take it to heart, simply making a comment about liking the way she tastes. That made her break away from any other touches he could give her.

Here, in his arms, she is thrashing. However, it is not from pleasure as it had been in his bed. She is having a seizure, limbs uncontrolled in their shaking. Then, he notices the wet spot of her pants; she lost control of her bladder. Cato dips his hand to her waist, uncaring about the smell of urine, and brings her to him with difficulty as Clove jerks around.

“Don’t leave me.” Cato proves he is indeed pathetic.

...

‘Let sleeping dogs lie.'

Wasting their breath would have done them little good. There were many moments they could have argued in the arena, but they bit their tongues, exercising the self-control and discipline training gave them. Despite their hot-headed moments.

After the tracker jacker incident, she drew a knife on his chest. That was the only time they were truly at each other’s throats, perhaps more from the remaining venom in their systems than their need to kill.

Clove about stabbed him for letting the ones from 12 escape. Screaming her pretty head off, pale face gone an ugly puce. She was unbothered, un-intimidated by his clenched fists at the side and his barking of rage.

He wanted to tell her not to worry about it; he got the boy’s thigh gashed with his sword, and therefore, they should hear a canon soon enough. Cato didn’t until later on, and the day their supplies were pulverized into smoldering dirt. How many times could he be proven wrong until he goes mad?

Turns out, not much, because he thinks he’s seeing her again, despite her being dead for a few days now. He’s still soggy from rain water, barely washed of blood from Clove’s killer when he fist fought with him. A cut is still on his forehead, a similar spot to where she had been hit, and he wipes at it while finding her steel-gray and blue eyes, their ring of brown emerging from foliage.

Only, it isn’t her. Something similar, with her lips, curled up to a snout, her dark hair turned fur, and nails grown to claws. A mutt.

A dog, crawling to him where he’d been laying to sleep, slow and lacking the attractiveness Clove had when she came to him on all fours, knees causing the bed to dip. Around it’s neck is a collar, a thick number 2 having rocks of marble and slate inlaid.

There’s an indent in the mutts skull, near to its left ear that flicks to the side when he gasps.

It sniffs him, his heart rate and inhales increasing to serrate his ribs. The nose bats at his legs, then presses to his groin, over him in a violating way, then moving to his neck. Cato closes his eyes, turning his head away because it’s breath even smells like her saliva when it was bubbling from her dying mouth.

...

‘I miss your hands on me.’

He wanted to touch her in the arena, more than they had. Than their hug brought about from the rule change, than her kiss on his cheek minutes away from the feast. Or her head resting on his shoulder to warm her freezing self in the darkness.

But most of all, he wanted her to touch him, and he almost asked her to do so. He didn’t, of course. She already had enough reasons to call him pathetic, and she already had too many times.

Clove has paws, or this mutt does at least, and after it nips his neck, it shoves his face into the dirt. At the smell of mud, pine pricking him, Cato grunts and realizes he’s trembling. Carefully – as though it plans on torturing him in the way she’d been planning to torture the girl on fire – it drags it’s claws across his cheek. Three down to his chin, fresh blood flowing.

He yells in agony and kicks it off him. Right in its stomach, a pale underbelly that is like how her skin was. It’s whimper is a mix between the sounds Clove made during sex and the ones she made as her life was fading in his arms.

Cato still misses her hands and accepts that this is the closest he'll get to having them on him again.

...

'Every time I see you, my heart aches with things left unsaid.'

Too much; it is too much like her. The mutt rips his flesh as Clove had promised she’d do to him with that knife at his chest, welts and bug bites still on her arms. As much as he needs to run, he can’t.

They’ve swarmed him, the rest of the mutts, and his back hurts from the fall off the Cornucopia. Many of his bones are likely broken, and he knows his muscles are on display for the whole nation. And don’t they love his tears as the dog does, licking the salt with its course tongue.

He sees her eyes, and as its tears at his aching heart, he whispers all the things he left unsaid.

[denkilightning]

i wish we got more jaya portrayals as limerance from jay, just an obsession stemming from the need to be someones number one and have it highlighted in season 3 love triangle subplot with coles motivation being to make jay see that if nya, a hyper independent person, ever did choose someone else it would break him and his actions coming out of concern and love for his best friend (/p or /r doesnt matter) its just he goes about it in the worst way possible and for jay to have a 'so pick me choose me love me' moment with nya because hes so riddled with insecurity and inferiority and nya couldnt fix it if she even wanted to try so she out right has to reject him because that is not her weight to carry and it provides proper conflict between /them/ because neither of them are grown enough yet to be compatible and it sets them on their respective arcs. grips table tight i just want them to be actually stupid and wrong because theyre kids with the world on their shoulders

[concha-del-mar]

The Stark sisters make me so sad because what do you mean all they long for is to go home and to reunite with their brothers but they’re both trapped by opposing circumstances???

[starishsky]

love grows where my rosemary goes

[2006-chevytahoe]

Trying really hard to make this sleeping on my back thing work.

[loviatarsluv-old]

there is no heterosexual way to be attracted to astarion. sorry i dont make the rules

[crybaby-bkg]

just got prescribed Prozac and I’m hella nervous about it omg did anyone have any side effects that weren’t expected???

[cinnabeat]

homestly im pleasantly surprised by this chapters comparison between delkira and iruma being abt how DIFFERENT they are rather than their similarities

[undrthelights]

i feel like everyone on here has their own little corners/groups with their moots and my mine literally exploded so now i’m just… here

[kitkatlover015]

Lolll! I did. Tbh if (when) I get a house of my own and get a bunch of cats (it’s inevitable) I’ll do some research and name them based off of their personality’s in other languages.

Still occasionally recall that post somebody shared on reddit(?) of their cats, introducing them by name. And someone in the comments asked "hey did you know that your cats' names mean 'deaf' and 'stupid' in polish?"

And this person answers "I am polish. The white cat is deaf and the orange one is stupid."

[petshopbutch]

submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for

[assumedcryptid]

🧍🏽‍♀️

[fraternum-momentum]

give me your complete and unwavering devotion.

[raskies456]

don’t let me stop y’all from being haters but like. I just personally don’t get why people are so into making jokes about how the m*necraft m*vie looks bad and will probably be bad?

[otaku553]

A self indulgent Koala redesign :)

Going for something cute that has the ability to look normal among mid to upper class civilians in case she needs to mingle with nobles, but just a bit more militaristic and practical for fighting! Thinking of doing a layer by layer breakdown for her outfit as well