#his painting of Rue was so good

[atelierlili]

Right??? It’s literally up his alley. So is shredding a million dollar art pierce after it gets sold and an capital auction 👀

Katniss: I have chosen Gale and the Rebellion.

Peeta: *suggests that they shouldn't quell the rebellion, breaks the law to offer Rue's and Thresh's families money, uses his velvet tongue to enrapture the Capitol people, lies about Katniss being pregnant in an attempt to stop the Quarter Quell, refuses to fight for his own life in either of his two Games*

girl Peeta's continued existence is an act of rebellion!!!!! he's rebelled against oppression since y'all were 11 years old and he tossed you that bread! his compassion is more rebellious than Gale's fury ever was.

[evermoresqueiswriting]

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were. 

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did. 

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?” 

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone. 

“Rude!” 

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder. 

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there. 

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head. 

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted. 

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset. 

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear. 

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating. 

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion. 

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her. 

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag. 

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was. 

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her. 

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you. 

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag. 

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at. 

“y/n?,” Will called for you. 

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance. 

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though. 

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood. 

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her. 

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will. 

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious. 

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers. 

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse. 

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier. 

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him. 

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow. 

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive. 

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed. 

Lee slapped his arm. 

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm. 

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly. 

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too. 

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said. 

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. 

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner. 

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far. 

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights. 

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also. 

��You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed. 

You whipped around, standing up before backing away. 

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her. 

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly. 

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed. 

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink. 

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side. 

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.” 

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat. 

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips. 

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on. 

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work. 

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean. 

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down. 

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured. 

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter. 

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile. 

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her. 

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier. 

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that. 

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t.. 

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged. 

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder. 

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain. 

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said. 

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile. 

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before. 

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in. 

“You’re being weird,” he said. 

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch. 

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.” 

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere. 

“Clarisse?” you called her name. 

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’. 

“What happened?” you frowned. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady. 

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs. 

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound. 

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned. 

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile. 

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you. 

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed. 

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt. 

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning. 

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!” 

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell. 

“I just fell,” she explained. 

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia. 

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag. 

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head. 

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.  

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?” 

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused. 

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced. 

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement. 

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes. 

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms. 

“Don’t go,” she mumbled. 

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still. 

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you. 

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile. 

You both left  to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her. 

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered. 

You shook your head. 

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock. 

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

 “Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee. 

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears. 

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out. 

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze. 

Was she making you miserable? 

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again. 

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse. 

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. 

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed. 

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field. 

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch. 

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped. 

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused. 

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out. 

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession. 

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms. 

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?” 

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist. 

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

[saturdaysky]

You may resist, but it's too late. You already embraced the powers the parasite gave you. You leveraged them to manipulate, to dominate, to survive. Your nature is no longer your own.

Mayhew failed the save to resist the Emperor's offer, and I have never been more pleased at a consequence! What an amazing moment.

Timelapse, line drawing, and character musing beneath the cut.

This choice!! Or rather, this lack of choice!

I love, love, love how failing the save made Mayhew's own will ambiguous, even to himself. He didn't want to be changed, he didn't want to forfeit his humanity (gnomanity)...or did he? He resisted. He opened his mouth to say I will not, but the door to his mind was already unlocked, power welcomed in. Mayhew will never know who unlatched it.

Also, while this is a Gale run -- Mayhew and Gale make each other worse in the most devoted, well-meaning way; the heavens will rue their names -- it also kind of feels like an Emperor run. A subtextual badwrong not-romance.

The Emperor and Mayhew are allies of circumstance turned intimate enemies. The Emperor listens to Mayhew's every thought, gives protection which Mayhew needs, offers advice and temptations which Mayhew takes. Mayhew likes the Dream Guardian; Mayhew cannot shut the Emperor out. Mayhew would see the Emperor dead, if he let himself think about it, but he would miss him after he was gone. And, of course, Mayhew is too curious for his own good, and the Emperor is full of answers.

For the two of them, partial ceremorphosis is a kind of consummation: what could be more intimate than shaping someone from within and without? Metaphorphosis is a gift, by one telling, and a horror story by another.

You are exquisite, the Emperor praised. Mayhew will never know if he became so by his own will.

(He failed the save by one (1) point.)

---

Timelapse! It includes all the silly things I drew for my friends, including: 1 tonsure, 3 neon signs, 2 cat emoji, 1 crotch face, and the emperor's armor drawn with my left hand. Spot them all!

Lines!

I don't usually work primarily with line, but I love it. In some ways, it's easier than painting, and in other ways much harder. I find I can't fudge things as much with linework as I can with paint; because the stroke is smaller, I have to be more specific. Even if I abstract details away, I need to understand the underlying form until I know what I am abstracting. It was fun having to be so rigorous.

[symp4nat]

hi lovely, i saw u wanted requests so how about painting clarisse's nails for capture the flag? cuz i noticed they're painted black and it could be a little ritual they do every year, xx.

Nails

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

authors note: i have headcanoned that there are 2 floors in cabins thank you

summary - um.. as says in request... and a little more cute moments! :)))

word count: 600

warnings: nail polish?, hot nicknames from clarisse

You were well versed in many things. Nail painting being one of them. Just, not on your own nails, but especially Clarisse's. Not that she would admit it, but she really... really... enjoyed it when you painted her nails.

Her nail beds were fine, usually filed. They were pretty. Like her.

-

You rushed into her cabin with a bag under your arm, a hair straightener under the other and her polished spear in your hands. As you entered the cabin, you almost stabbed someone with her spear and you squeaked out, "Sorry!"

You ran upstairs towards Clarisse's corner where her bed laid. You huffed and set everything down on the top of a stand. You leaned her spear against the wall. "No... c'mon, mamas, you told me you were only doing my nails," Clarisse groaned.

"No, we- we have to do your make up, your hair and your nails... And we'll only be ready in time for Capture the Flag if we start now, chop chop!"

You opened your bag and reached for a few colours of nail polish. You set them on the bed alongside a bunch of makeup products, all with labermaker-labels stuck onto them so you knew which ones matched you and which ones matched Clarisse.

"Get your colour real quick and I'll start," You said as you grabbed some brushes.

"I'm still stunned you're not an Aphrodite kid, are you sure you got claimed by the right parent," she asked. With a roll of your eyes, you said, "I'm sure I was." She glanced at the colours as she spoke. "Do you have black," she asked.

You whined, "But black isn't cute," you exclaimed. She raised an eyebrow and with a huff, the black nail polish was in your hand with the lid open. You sat on the bed and gestured for her to give you her hand. She placed her hand in yours.

Your tongue poked out while you tried to concentrate. Once you were done with one hand, you reached for the other and began working on it. You wiped off the excess with a tissue and looked at her hands proudly. "Your hands look even more prettier than usual," you joked.

You applied the quick-dry layer of the nail polish and admired her.

She went to touch her nail and you grabbed her hand. "Clarisse, I swear."

You grabbed the big mirror next to the bed which was there for you when you went to do your makeup in the cabin. You plugged in your hair straightener and sat on the floor after turning it on. You sectioned your hair and began straightening it. "You should stop burning your hair follicles, y'know," Clarisse asked, "Your curly hair looks good."

You shrugged. "It's not the worst? But straight hair makes me feel confident, C," you said.

She knew you were stubborn, so what was the point in her even trying to lecture you. "Want me to straighten your hair," you asked her. She yelped, "Oh hell no, I like my hair!" You giggled as she was being defensive. "I do too," you said.

You turned off and unplugged your straightener and returned it to its bag. You went to stand behind her and your fingers tangled in her hair. You played with her hair and then pinned some of it back to look nice and also battle-able. you tried the ends and then applied a gently hue of blush to her face. You added lipstick and you grinned proudly. "Eyeliner," you questioned.

She pecked your lips a few times and spoke.

With a laugh and a slight red hue on her cheeks, Clarisse grabbed her spear. "Capture the Flag's about to start, let's go."

You huffed. "Fine, my hair looks... fine... and I look shitty, great."

"Hey," she gently snapped, "Don't say that, princess, you look great. And by the way? Thank you... for sharpening and polishing my spear, mamas."

"Yeah, 'course, anything for you," you said as you watched her run out.

-

After Capture the Flag, you went into Clarisse's cabin. You sat on her bed and grabbed her hands. "I didn't appreciate how you almost killed Percy... but I can't blame you, 'cause the... thing... happened," you said as you gazed into her eyes. Your eyes then landed on her nails.

You irritably screeched, "Clarisse!"

Her nails were practically entirely scuffed off. "We're redoing these, I swear," you groaned.

[tending-the-hearth]

a (not entirely) comprehensive list of what i loved about the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie

(spoilers below)

i already gushed about it but the ENTIRE opening scene being shot for shot what happens in the first few pages of the book... like holy shit i was blown away

snow making the remark about the tessarae buttons reminding him of the maid's bathroom???? again directly from the book???

lucy gray's introduction, and her song!!!!

again this movie was... SO ridiculously faithful to the book it almost made me cry

tigris and snow's relationship was so beautifully portrayed, and knowing how they each end up makes it even more heartbreaking

sejanus always and forever my favorite character <3

the fact that they included arachne's death and kept it almost entirely identical to her book death?? and i'd argue that her death in the movie is more gruesome

the entire scene with reaper gathering up the bodies. it was my favorite scene in the book, and it's one of my favorite scenes in the movie. it's such a heartbreaking but powerful moment, like when peeta paints rue or when katniss gave rue a burial

the snake scene holy SHIT all the deaths destroyed me

but lucy gray singing??? and the snakes gathering around her like a dress??? and her voice just getting stronger and more steady as she realizes she won't die???

i might be wrong but i'm PRETTY sure that the first time we see lucy gray after the hunger games when she's singing in district 12 she's wearing mockingbird and jabberjay feathers in her hair!!!

and her snake bracelet that she wears!!

her smile when she saw snow in the crowd... if i didn't read the book i'd 100% be rooting for them

hearing lucy gray singing "hanging tree" was so haunting. i've seen people point out the difference in meaning in lucy vs. katniss' versions, and i'm definitely going to make a whole post abt lucy gray singing the song

omg the way people in my theater gasped SO loudly when lucy called the root "katniss"

while obviously not a good thing in context of the story, the way we could see snow slowly devolving and becoming more and more manipulative towards sejanus and lucy gray... absolutely terrifying storytelling

lucy's realization of what snow's done, and the way she holds herself together JUST enough to run away from him

the mockingjays and jabberjays coming together to sing "hanging tree"

tigris saying "you look just like your father" to snow at the end of the movie and us knowing that she also means the look of hatred in his eyes that she told snow she hoped she'd never see

THE FUCKING END WITH SNOW SAYING THE LINE AND HEARING RUE'S WHISTLE ECHOING AND EVERYTHING EXCUSE ME

[brookesophelias]

peeta and the rebellion, with even more nuance (:

post continued from @posthungergamessyndrome; their post here

In The Games training , Peeta preferred to hang around the Camouflage, & it ultimately became his saving grace in Book I. Creativity, to most tributes, doesn't compare higher than physical prowess in significance. In Catching Fire, we see the D6 Morplings go to Camo first.

Peeta Mellark allows himself to be known as Loverboy to almost everyone in the 74th arena, which is him defining himself by emotion. Mostly because that’s what Careers, who D12 tributes hardly ever team up with, called him

Peeta decided to kill himself, even before the Nightlock idea, because he refuses to die at the hands of the Capitol. He seriously felt remorse after killing Foxface & had Katniss explain it to him. Killing others wasn't supposed to be something these tributes felt accountability & care about. "...wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment... For killing that little girl. (CF; 238)

Yes, Katniss says to eat the berries on 3, though it's Peeta Mellark who tells her to out-stretch her hands so "...everyone can see." (THG; pg. 338).

Peeta refuses to hold a knife when he could hold a paintbrush. (Katniss replies to Haymitch that 'if he wanted babying, then should've asked Peeta.' His fellow Games Victor called him soft & he just offers her bread [again]). Even in the actual war, he felt so hurt when he killed others.

He has a vivid memory for the horrors of The 74th Hunger Games, to the point where Katniss says she "hates" his paintings. He’s not even offended he just lets her hate on them because they are gruesome.

He always looks out of windows at other people [Katniss on the bakery lawn], places {districts while on tour] as well as the Capitol. He also takes people's baked goods home to evaluate. And doesn't stop.

He also sees the elder from D11 get shot in the head & doesn’t let himself be touched by Peacekeepers after he said he & Katniss would feed Rue & Thresh's families.

Peeta refuses—so vehemently—to drink the beverage to purge his meals. He tells Katniss that maybe they shouldn't squash the Rebellion.

He is the second person to volunteer in years in D12, & at all & he, too earns the highest rating in the Quarter Quell. Before the Mockingjay ever existed, the mockingbird & Jabberjay had to meet. If Katniss is the Mockingjay, Peeta embodies both qualities of both birds individually. Peeta is wholly himself, at his best. When the Panem screams conformity, Peeta doubles on individualism.

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

I got the idea from our family's plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person's picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim's cheek. My father's laugh. Peeta's father with the cookies. The color of Finnick's eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Strange bits of happiness, like the photo of Finnick and Annie's newborn son. 

Did this passage make me cry on my reread? Yes, yes it did.

The fact that the idea comes from Katniss's family plant book (which she had already entrusted Peeta to become a part of). But now this new book is a project taken on by her new family, her chosen family: her and Peeta and Haymitch. The descriptions of what they write for the entries: the mundane, the ordinary, from the lives of these people who also showed so much beauty and care and kindness in the things they did, the way they laughed, the way they moved. And this is how they will remember them and honour them. This is why they fought against the Capitol and why they will continue to keep fighting to lead good lives, to make their deaths count. The fact that Haymitch remembers his 23 years worth of tributes, even with all the alcohol for numbing. And here he is with the two he helped to save, who he gets to rebuild some sort of life with, after spending 23 years alone. That they remember Finnick, who would've been sat at this table with them. That they include the happiness of his son who lives. The reminder that life goes on and there's something worth living for. And it's all so painful but so, so beautiful and heart-warming.

[groversimp]

need “hits different”!😭😭😭

Hits Different

part one (Nothing Has Ever Felt So Wrong)

part two (Hits Different)

part three (The Way I Loved You) || not out yet!

part four (Foolish One) || not out yet!

decided to be a good author and answer these requests for Hits Different because it’s been FOREVER 😿

warnings: ANGST, bruh reader needs to stop mourning, also we’re bringing in an oc dude, I love love love Shiloh 😽

You hated Clarisse La Rue.

You hated her stupid her, her deep-brown eyes. You hated the scarred hands you once held in yours, the ones you used to cherish. You’d kiss her palms and tell her she’s not a monster. Not to you.

Yet, you were the one left burned. Scarred and blistering from the scalding touch of her soul.

Her and Silena sit on the benches only a few, short feet from you. Weaving bracelets together at their arts n’ crafts lesson, the initials of the other carved into the beads.

You mope with your siblings, firmly avoiding Silena’s pointed and snarky looks. She wasn’t a bad person, you knew that. She was just in love.

You were just in love.

It was sickening. You had tried and tried to wash yourself clean of her- to allow the flowing rain to make yourself new, but it only left you rugged and dripping, a walking storm cloud. The midnight rain you sat in did little to heal the gaping wound in your heart, beating like a war-cry of Clarisse’s.

“Hey, Y/N.” You hear a voice, smooth and soft like the cooling tide of the lake.

You’ve never really noticed Shiloh, the boy who had just approached you and taken the liberty to sit next to you. A son of the minor god, Dinlas.

Most would think he’d be rough and hateful, but he was honestly very sweet. Carrying himself with nothing but loyalty and understanding- though, the Greek-fire burned beneath his green eyes to not challenge him.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Hey.” Your voice is just as soft, but quieter. You don’t take up any space, just uselessly flowing like a spring shower.

You two continued to talk, the fierce glare sent his way from Clarisse went unnoticed by him. And the butterflies you got from her two-second attention were too addicting to not give into. Spurring the conversation on and on, it almost felt natural.

He walked you back to your cabin, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and a sinking feeling in your stomach. The cabin door quietly shut behind you- how dare you? He shouldn’t have been that close to begin with, now this?

You can almost feeling the punches Clarisse would throw at him, wincing at the idea of faux injuries.

Would she still do that for you, would she care?

You cared, you thought as you climb into your bed. Not bothering to clean up for campfire or looking up as your siblings file into the cabin.

The only thing that felt right was to sob into the stuffed bear Clarisse gave you for your 5-month anniversary. The weak punches your fist throws to the bed are pitiful; they’d make a puppy laugh. But, how can you bring yourself to be strong when you feel so deeply?

The bed dips and you don’t need to look up to know who it is- your sister, Astilbe, shushes you softly and places a hand on the small of your back. It reminds you of Clarisse, caring and possessive. You only cry more.

“Y/N,” she says- voice chipper as the morning birds, though the pity is evident. “Love is a lie, you’ll be alright.”

A sob wrecks through you again, almost like a quiet scream.

“She was good, Bee.” You tell her. “There was good in her.”

You pay no mind to her disagreements, only sitting up to place your face in the small of her neck and crying harder.

This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right. You’ve aways been one to move on quickly, staining your exes with a maroon, star-painted sky. You leave with only the memories and their dignity.

That was who you are. Over-confident, ‘manic pixie dream girl’, draining Y/N.

But that’s why she loved you. Ever-burning, violent, dangerous Clarisse.

That’s why she chose you. Why you chose her.

You’d go insane if you kept thinking like this, but for her- you’d do it all.

[wildpeachfarm]

This was hours ago but it's only just popped up on my dash for me but Rue bothers me so much (in reference to one of your anons discussing her)

Her initial post, after Dream posted a response that made me tear up as someone who's been in an abusive relationship, cut to her saying we don't want you here. Meanwhile she offered no words of support of her own (that I can remember, and if she did its been overshadowed by everything she's said and done since)

Meanwhile his post was the most powerful of any of the ones people made. Someone with a huge platform standing hand in hand with someone and offering such genuine words. And all she could say was get your brownie points somewhere else

Theres a tumblr post floating around how we need to stop caring if people's good actions are done for the right reasons cause if we police that, we'll see less good in the world and Rue sums that up perfectly

I don't care if *you* don't want Dream there, *I* do. I don't speak for Shubble, but between Shubble and Dream's posts after Wilbur's response I damn well near cried cause they hit so close to home. They were both the words of victims, spoken from a place of solidarity and pain. Rue essentially added nothing to the conversation but freaking people out. What she contributed too was a week of unnecessary pain and triggering people and causing a mass exodus and in the end only hurt caiti. Rue claims to speak for victims but she's part of the group of people that have made everything worse. She was reactionary and her actions didn't bring a single good thing to anyone

And again, beating the point to death about how she had more to say about George than Wilbur

It comes off as clout chasing and disingenuous. Sure, George fucked up. But it seems to have been a genuinely mistake vs Wilbur's very deliberate abuse and it's gross to paint the two scenarios with the same brush. I hope she's able to get help after whatever she experienced with wilbur, and I hope through time and reflection she's able to acknowledge her own wrongdoings

But as it stands right now, Rue clearly can't handle having a platform and she needs to go offline for a while. She is part of a problem whether she acknowledges it or not and something has to give sooner or later

honestly i have nothing to add to this you said it very well anon!

[inarmes]

continually infuriated with SC for her portrayals of black people and district 11 and i'm again going to touch on her portrayal of thresh, very specifically how he talks/his speech & some other tidbits. (as a black person, because i fear that has to be made clear.)

let's take a look at these. if you've read my post on my issues with d11, you'll recognize that they were also in that post and explained upon.

it is so redundant to have a black character whom in which is already a stereotype in and of itself to be further stereotypical. thresh is a "physical wonder," made out as if he's more of a beast than a person despite being an outlier & not trained like a career. he's made to seem intimidating and imposing and all around terrifying for someone like katniss, who differs in statute and mass. that's strike one. in most media, black = intimidating. which is not only harmful but just endlessly racist. now, for the extracts above, his speech.

SC has managed to imply a lack of education or a lack of understanding of speech, just from how thresh speaks alone. (“you kill her?” / “i let you go.”) he lacks the typical “did you” or “i'll let you” in both those phrases, with the words shortened to impose the idea that he isn't very grammatical. i don't have to explain to you why that's problematic. we could go through the slavery talk and how black people were discouraged from any level of education when possible, as their jobs were simply to work on the fields/plantations. SC imposes an impression that the people of 11 are not entirely grammatically educated from thresh's speech alone. yes, there's rue in comparison — who seems to speak fine despite being younger than thresh, which is a very specific thing that sticks out. you have thresh being quiet, reserved and only physically imposing. you add his level of speech to it, and it paints a very shitty picture which shows that she doesn't really know what she's doing and she's basing him off of an idea of a black person and not ... an actual black person.

thresh spares katniss, but at the same time acts out in a very brutal sort of violence prior in which is almost primitive with how it's portrayed — he's one of the only tributes that doesn't use a weapon such as a knife, bow, sword, etc. he picks up something from his environment. to me, SC characterizes him as something closer to a caveman, rather than a terrified teenager running on justice and a need to survive. she draws back to the old racist beliefs of black people (and by extension, black men) as being capable of only abhorrent violence, uneducated and worse, near uncivilized. it's a death game, people are going to be out of their usual selves in order to vie for the spot of victor, which is understandable, but it does not look good for him. it just doesn't look like she understood the drawbacks to writing thresh in such a loaded way (loaded being microagressive and heavily stigmatized.)

peeta (equally physically imposing) literally joins the careers, the brainwashed, bloodthirsty bunch of teens that thrive on murder in order to bring glory to their district, but thresh is the significantly physically imposing one and gets to be painted in such a harsh and violent light despite intention and circumstance. yesss. very telling. thresh does one good deed & shows himself to be a thoughtful and understanding person despite his traits and suddenly we all think that means that SC understands how to write a black person positively. nooooo. unfortunately not.

[carnadelions]

I really like your takes on the Loustat dynmics, do you read fanfic? If so, you got any recs?

cleave/tie by vampdf

“Oh, look at you,” he crooned. “You’re hungry. Hasn’t anyone taught you how to eat yet?”

daddy lessons by vampdf

The need was damning. But he was damned. A creature caught between worlds: man and not, saint and killer. Absolution would come for him, but not in Lestat’s hands. fatherhood is a fickle thing.

Family Portrait, c. 1840, oil on canvas by littlerhymes

Lestat's latest favourite is a painter.

Fearfully Changing by Cesare

Things are changing at Rue Royale as Claudia grows more independent, making Louis more cautious and leaving Lestat feeling estranged; he pursues a distraction that ultimately reminds him how much he values his family.

the hour of lead by boltcutters

He came in the door like a hurricane, her father. / Claudia, in a mouthful of interludes.

Roadkill by baberainbow, nlbv

pieta by baberainbow

A family trip to the circus ends with a satisfying supper and an attempt to fill Louis' belly.

During the Chateau de Lioncourt's renovation, Louis and his mother-in-law come to an understanding.

Mr and Mrs Lioncourt by weathermood:

Lestat and Louis have been married for five years. Lestat thinks Louis is an English teacher. Louis thinks Lestat works in finance. It isn't until Lestat has Louis in the crosshairs of his sniper rifle that their respective lies, resentments and desires are exposed over one dangerous night.

see-through by verseau

Lestat and Louis have been divorced for eight years. Against all odds, this is a love story.

The Painting by laila555

Louis and Lestat take a trip to visit Marius in New York City, sometime after the events of Memnoch.

stage directions by rainbowfantasy

“Luchina says you’re driving yourself mad back here. I tried to tell her you’d always been mad, but I supposed I'd better come and see it for myself.” Lestat was given new lines specifically and the nerves are making him jittery. Luckily, Nicki is good at distractions.

Children of Disobedience by HannaM

After Akasha's death, no one seems to know what to do next, least of all Armand. Marius wants to pretend the last few centuries never happened, Louis and Gabrielle are fighting, Daniel is just happy to be alive and in the company of vampires and Lestat has locked himself away from the rest to write all the things he won't say to anyone out loud. Well, if Louis and Gabrielle can't help Lestat, maybe Armand can.

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Why hello there.

Listen,I don’t have much to say about the newest LO episode so here’s an ares ranking to go along with the other ones.

Spoilers.

Percy Jackson:

6/10

Look,Ares is a really weird figure when it comes to how the media presents him.

Almost always they present him as this sexist frat boy when in mythology he is:

A reported protector of mistreated woman.

The patron god of the amazons and was worshipped to the point that their leader had 2 babies with him.

Scored the GODDESS PF LOVE AND BEAUTY and there is no way you cannot convince me she doesn’t have some pretty high standards(even though apparently you can convince most of the writers on this list)

And as much as I love Percy Jackson,it is not devoid of crimes.

In the first book,he helps Luke/Kronos steal Zeus’ master bolt and Hades’ helm of invisibility as to start a civil war within the gods.id say this is a pretty good portrayal overall.

…until we get to the second book.

This myth will be very important so long story short:a daughter of ares got r*** by a son of Poseidon so Ares,like any reasonable and bloodthirsty god of war,fucking killed him.

After this,he got put on trial for murder as if he wasn’t the literal god of bloody war,and all the ladies vouched for him so he got set free.

Let’s just say,Rick Riordan didn’t know of this myth.

In the second book,there’s a scene where Clarisse La Rue,a DAUGHTER of ares talks to him through a magic mirror.

There,he threatens her and says he should have sent one of his sons on the quest.and keep in mind she is his FAVORITE DAUGHTER.

So yeah.

I don’t really like this portrayal but he gets points for bringing Clarisse and (technically)Frank into this world since I like them both.also the fact that Percy could tell he had beef with him even without having any other memory.

Lore Olympus:

1/10

FUCK THIS GUY

Remember when I said that modern Ares was more often than not a sexist frat boy?we’ll add “predator” and “Reddit nice guy” to that list because RS can’t write.

If in Percy Jackson Aphrodite had terrible standards here said standards are so much worse.

He spends MONTHS trying to seduce a 19-YEAR-OLD and then tries to marry her without her consent.

Also,sir,YOU HAVE THE GODDESS OF LOVE AND BEAUTY FULLY AT YOUR DISPOSAL AND YOURE PICKING A GURL WHO DOESNT EVEN KNOW HIW TO USE A COMPUTER????

Great.this guy is a predator,Reddit nice guy,AND stupid.

I remember saying that the only character who could get a lowers rating than LO Persephone being LO hades and then I remembered this fuck existed.

Fuck him.

Hades:

10/10

Your know when you see something and then immediately want to wash your eyes with soap?this is my soap.

He is my third favorite Olympian in the game,coming third to Hermes and Artemis.

So here’s a few reasons why I like him:

Doom anything with impending doom and the increasing doom damage boon does absurd amounts of damage.

Curse of nausea is one of the best duos in the game.

He respects woman.(oh look they finally Aphrodite standards)

His quest is stupidly easy and he was the first Olympian who’s bond I maxed out.

I know this joke has been made so many times but.he really is a Chthonic simp.

He doesn’t get too pissed if you don’t pick him is trial of gods.hes just here for the bloodshed.

It may be just the fact that almost every other interpretation of ares is bad,but I really like him.

Also Aphrodite wearing his face paint in hades 2-

OSP:

7/10

He’s cool.

I really don’t have much else to add except the helmet stays on during sex.

Gods school:

5/10

Welp Back to the incels-

Him straight up telling Aphrodite that he can do whatever he wants because she won’t leave is just.why.

I don’t get why people go to this myth,turn it around,and act as if they’ve done a service by making Ares miserable when in the myths it was already a good ending.

What is with the obsession with making ares a toxic ex boyfriend when in the myths him and ‘dite were literally love and war.

Another issue I have with gods school is the fact they made Aphrodite a Karen Smith when in the myths shes a Regina George but that’s a problem for the Aphrodite ranking.

Also I just realized the Aphrodite Hephaestus ares myth is the og “I fell in love with a bad boy story”-

Epic:the musical:

8/10

I don’t have a physical picture of him but I already like him.

The only time he he appears is during a bit of an unfinished song but he does bring up some pretty good points,like the Scylla thing.

Also the fact Athena didn’t directly refute any of his points but instead persuaded him with the fact that the moment Ody gets home the suitors are going to be fucked is surprisingly great.

Also can I just say how absolutely hyped I am for god games?Aphrodite’s part fucking rocks and I’m excited for Apollo and Hephaestus.

Also here’s my ranking for epic Hermes since I wasn’t part of the fandom back then:

10/10

*insert dolphin laugh here*

[atefingersdagger]

Prompt: Name 10 interests Katniss and Peeta have in common

Ten interests Katniss and Peeta have in common

Great question! Here's my examples! (Some of these examples are a bit more figurative than literal)

Rebellious nature - Peeta’s rebellious nature is a little less overt than Katniss', but he's shows it when he paints Rue and when he uses his charm to make people turn against Snow in Catching Fire. Katniss rebels with overt action, while Peeta does with words and his personality.

Food/cooking - While Katniss isn't a baker like Peeta, she hunts and knows how to prepare meat for her family (out of survival, yes, but still something she is interested in). So they share the interest of gathering and cooking food in a more hands-on way. I imagine Katniss and Peeta work together to make plentiful meals for their kids and others.

Caring for District 12 - We see Katniss and Peeta care for other districts as well, but they have more examples of caring for everyone in their home. Katniss doesn't just feed her family, she also gives meat to her neighbors. Peeta is generous and compassionate, as we saw when he throws the bread to Katniss at the expense of himself.

Showing solidarity - Katniss shows her solidarity for District 11 by singing and covering Rue in flowers, while Peeta shows solidarity by offering tributes' families money. They don't back down from protecting their allies either, no matter where they are from.

Staying in shape/exercise - Katniss is very active when she hunts, as well as enjoys swimming in the lack outside 12. Peeta is brawny and is the one to suggest training constantly for the 2nd arena.

Having Children - Katniss says she doesn't want kids in the world she was born into, but once the Games are abolished, you can see her desire to care for children flourish. Peeta doesn't talk much about having children prior to the epilog, but Katniss said he wanted to be a parent with her. They also care for children in general no matter what. (Including other tributes even.)

Art - Peeta is a painter, so his interest in art is more obvious, but Katniss absolutely adores Cinna's designs and loves the craftsmanship. She herself may not be an artist, but she deeply appreciates the work of others.

Family - Beyond having children, they are interested in keeping close-knit with their family. Peeta didn't have a loving mother, so he deeply cares about being a good dad. Katniss is obvious about caring for her sister and even her mother despite having anger over the neglect.

Calling out bullshit - Katniss and Peeta don't hold back on saying or thinking of clapbacks for those who deserve it.

The outdoors - Katniss hunts and loves the woods, and Peeta loves painting outside, where I imagine that is how he learned to paint trees in flowers he painted in the book.

(Bonus - Buttercup because I said so)

Some rely on my personal headcanons more than what is actually canon, but these are what I see Katniss and Peeta have shared interest in.

[edutainer2022]

To amuse myself amidst the bleak bombings I did a little fun(ish) thing within the general context of Timey-Wimey, the Future!Tracies crossover, but it could be perceived independently. It may be not the best idea to hack family video archives, while situated in a time paradox.

For more references of the Tracy future ever after in this continuity, see Piano Lessons and Worries. Indefinite thanks go to @janetm74 for inspiration and support.

WIBLY-WOBLY

The holovideo was shaky at first, someone with the camera was, probably, adjusting the hold. There was also a bit of a squabble going on in the background. The holocam tilted, recording a familiar side hallway in the villa. The walls were decorated anew, though, with pictures and paintings they never saw. There was also soft carpeting where previously they were used to hardwood. The frame was finally rectified and an unseen hand pushed the touchpanel of a door. A voice off screen, too jovial to be serious, declared:

"Tracy TV! Would you be amenable to take part in a poll?"

The brothers let out a collective gasp as a tall slim figure turned around to face the camera. Grinning at them against the backdrop of a summer afternoon was Scott. A twenty years old Scott. Upon closer look they could see the shade of meticulously styled hair was darker, so was the blue of the gaze. But the dimples were there, the posture, the bone structure, and the fond smile that could power a sun.

"Shoot, Squidletts!"

There were appalled noises from behind the camera, but a voice pressed on. A girl's, that time.

"Do you believe in love?"

"Oh... that's a good question! I believe..."

The young man stretched and squeezed his eyes dreamily. When they opened back up, the deep blue was brimming with mischief.

"I believe... I'd LOOOOVE a sandwich right about now!"

The young man burst into a hearty laugh and the Tracies hitched a breath in unison again. The resemblance was striking.

The holofeed shimmered in and out of focus some more through the turns and passages of the upper level of the villa. At some point it paused in view of a lanky freckled teen, curled up in a window niche, engrossed in some diagrams on a tablet. Despite the tropical heat, the boy was clad in layers of oversized sweatshirt and a truly hideous cardigan. The attempt of the "Tracy TV crew" to engage him in their poll resulted in a well-aimed trainer gliding their way at an alarming speed. The kid barely even got distracted from reading and the hapless reporters made a hasty retreat, before the canon shoe landed with a thud.

That brought them sprinting to the balcony, overlooking the lounge. The video on screen skipped up and down in time with the running. First only the sound was audible, then the holopicture stabilized. The spacious area was filled with viscous rue of Puccini's "O mio babbino caro" in a velvet female voice, swirling all the way up to the glass ceiling. The pianist concealed by the raised top, but for a streak of red and black flanel, the camera focused on the singer. Thick black curls in a French braid, soft brown eyes, full forms, a green sundress. The girl looked remarkably the way Virgil did when he lost a bet to Gordon that one time. Or rather, if Thunderbird Two were a girl come alive. The voice seemed to reach through the gossamer veil of the holovid and envelope them all in their current strange surroundings. Nobody dared speak, lost for breath with awe.

When the aria ended there was a low whistle off screen. Then followed enthusiastic applause and a resounding "Bravo!", in a voice they knew all too well that time. The camera jumped again and recorded a startled shriek:

"Uncle Scott!!!"

The Tracies exchanged anxious looks. The frame shifted to accomodate a newcomer - too tall to fit he bent slightly to be eyelevel with the 'reporters'. Slim figure as fit as ever, the grey suit made the blue of the eyes stand out. The right shade, this time. But the hair was all steel and silver, much like Dad's. The smile was also different. The brothers hadn't seen that one since when Mom was still alive.

"Now, what are you two up to?"

There were more dimensions of levity in the grin and the lines that flanked bright blue eyes.

"Solemnly up to no good, sir!"

The twin chorus off screen declared eagerly, with audible delight. That was obviously a well practiced routine between them. The Double Trouble scrambled to remember the purpose of their noble endeavor.

"Uncle Scott, do you believe in love?"

The smile deepened the dimples on the man's face, he reached one arm to hug someone, the other lifted up to ruffle some hair, eliciting a universally recognizable sqauck.

"Of course I do! I love your parents and all you lot. More than anything in the world! I love the way your cousin Lucy sings. I love how you're always up to mischief. I love to see how smart and talented you all are. I love to see you grow up happy. And I'd love to make the world safer and kinder for you all!"

The camera dropped the frame again in favor of a brief fierce hug, before the transmission skedaddled to the elevator and down to the hangars.

It was hard to discern the details as the camera was facing the concrete floor for some time. Much as the brothers wouldn't mind a peek into the inevitable changes of the Thunderbirds' roost, the cracks and bumps remained as they remembered. They managed to see a red sign "Restricted Area", usually deployed by Brains, when experiment muse struck. But it definitely didn't deter the intrepid investigators. The video picked up a young ginger woman in lab coveralls, manipulating screenfuls of holodata.

"Hey, Sisi! Do you believe in love?"

Green eyes looked up from shifting datastreams, as the girl seemed to give the question some actual thought.

"Belief presupposes reliance on unverified and uncorroborated data points. Since I am aware of sufficient amount of proof that my synthetic biometrical makeup is not designed to produce chemicals usually associated with emotional affection in mammals, then no, I do not BELIEVE in love. But the complex neural connections I have elaborated over time allow me to experience strong cognitive affinity and preference for the select members of the Tracy family over all other representatives of the same species. And don't call me "Sisi", I am the Dawn!"

The sniggers off screen were drowned in a gasp their side of the holofeed, just as it was shut down forcefully. John was frozen in place, mesmerizing the same red-headed girl, looking not a day older, now frowning at them. Alan  jumped to his feet, indignant.

"You're not Dawn! You're Eos!!!!"

"That is an optimal deduction, yes."

Gordon snorted. John's brow furrowed in return. From behind Eos, the twins, Grant and Sally, were entering back into the room.

"Yo, you hacked our old reels! Neat! Tracy TV was a hoot! Ouch! Hey!"

A cuff up the head stopped the trip down the memory lane, as Kip caught up with the duo.

"You weren't supposed to get exposed to background data. That complicates the time loop, makes it harder to break without consequence."

"Well, duh, Carpenter! No kidding! What do we do now?"

It was time for another dramatic baited breath, as several pairs of eyes trained on the young man, shocked for a different reason their unexpected hosts might have assumed.

[agentmarvel]

sunset, sunrise

for @the-californicationist's nameless challenge; congratulations on your milestone!🖤

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

inspired by: sleeptalk by dayseeker (listen here)

There are many things in his life that he regrets, but he rues none so much as the day he ended things with you.

It started long before, perhaps once or twice a week, but after nearly dying in the field, he came to you more often. Like clockwork, at 2300 hours each night, he’d stand outside your door, two fastidious knocks on the wood to signify his arrival. Without fail, you’d let him in. 

Sometimes, he’d fuck you viciously, bruises and bitemarks littering your skin in the low glow of early morning light. Sometimes, he’d be gentler, almost as if apologizing for the inevitable end. And sometimes, when things felt especially difficult, he’d just curl up in your bed and hold you until the sun first blinked over the horizon, giving himself something tangible when it felt like his mind was spiraling into a black hole. But he never stayed past sunrise. Staying felt far more intimate than he was comfortable with. No, he’d always make sure to collect his things and leave before you had a chance to awake.

For weeks, the guilt has nagged at him. Like a banshee, it wails and screeches and begs him to just listen for once. Instead, he digs and digs, trying to bury it so deep in the hollow of his bones that it doesn’t see the light of day until decades after his life has reached its end.

The liquor helps some nights. He won't think about you if he can't think straight at all. At least, that's what he prefers to tell himself. It's not convincing in the least, but he tries. 

You've been good for him, at least to some extent. He’s never slept better than he did beside you, never felt more alive than by your side. The weight of the world lessened when you shouldered it with him.

But it wasn’t all good. You make him absolutely crazy, possessive and obsessed to the near point of his own detriment. Taking up residence in his mind, a masterful portrait painted in a gallery behind his eyes. He struggles to focus in the field. Always looking for you amidst the hail of bullets, awaiting your approaching silhouette through the haze of smoke and dust, straining to hear your voice through the crackling comms like a fiend.

He spent years trying to keep everyone else out, but the hammer of your wit and a tongue like a chisel chipped away at his stone wall. Tirelessly, he has guarded it, and he never noticed how close you were to breaking through until it was too late. You found your way inside. His defenses were no longer sufficient. He’s weak and exposed, feeling like prey beneath your half-lidded gazes and the press of your lips to his overheated skin.

The intruder had to be dealt with swiftly, removed like a cancerous growth and discarded like it never existed, and that’s exactly what he did.

He spent one more night with you, treated you exactly as you deserved, confessed everything he thought and felt as you slept soundly in his arms, and left you with a peck on the forehead and a mere five words: “This is the last time.”

And now, on his knees, staring down the muzzle of a .44 Magnum aimed point-blank between his eyes, he wishes you had been awake to hear it all.

[iwtvfanevents]

Rewind the Tape

Unidentified art roundup

After the seven #art of the episode posts we put together during our first season rewatch, we rounded up all the unidentified pieces, in case you want to take a look and see if anything feels familiar! Roughly in order of appareance, they're listed below.

Episode 1

We think we have found all pieces in this one!

Episode 2

Unidentified paintings in Dubai

In the background of the dining room scenes, on the other side of the arch over Daniel's shoulder, we can see a big, square-ish canvas with an abstract painting. We get another good look at it in episode six.

Next unidentified piece, to the right of the dining room, looks like it could be some sort of biblical hellscape. The backstage picture to the right is from art director Nealy Orillion's socials.

Unidentified painting in the Azalea

This painting or illustration could show a woman bathing.

Episode 3

Unidentified painting in Dubai

Seen in the sitting room: a profile portrait of a man.

Unidentified paintings in the Azalea

Briefly glimpsed in the Azalea: the blue dress from the first piece looks like Regency era, while the piece in the next room looks like it could be a still life.

Unidentified photographs in the Azalea

Also piece spotted in the Azalea, these photos could very well be random thrift finds. But there are several pin-ups around the place, so there's a non-zero chance they're all by the same photographer.

Unidentified painting in Rue Royale

Spotted in the parlor, on the top left corner of the frame. Looks like a woman in a white headdress.

Unidentified painting in Fenwick's office

What looks like a landscape, possibly of thin trees?

Episode 4

Unidentified paintings in Claudia's room

To the left of the door we can see an illustration or painting of a woman with flowers over a bright pink background.

Above The Kitten's art Lesson we can see a painting that seems to be an expressionist work, perhaps, with a banner of five dolls or children holding hands over the block of solid color in the bottom 3rd of the piece, while the superior section depicts four women sitting on chairs. And to the left of the door we can see, on top, a floral bouquet over a dark background.

Unidentified painting in the staircase landing

We got a look at a painting next to the Munch and below the Renoir, which we could only see the top corner of in episode three. It looks like a still life, maybe of some fruit, or some oysters.

Episode 5

Unidentified paintings in Claudia's room

On the opposite wall to the four paintings around the door, we can also see another floral bouquet.

Unidentified painting in the parlor

Also seen in previous episodes, this painting in the ground floor looks like it might be a landscape, but it could also be some sort of creature or a mass of bodies.

Unidentified painting in the hallway

Based on the style and the other works in Rue Royale, we think this might be a Degas from his After the Bath studies, but we haven't placed it yet.

Episode 6

Unidentified pieces in Dubai

From a different angle, we can see what looks like it could be a Nigerian leather shield, and a photograph of a hand which may be another Vivian Maier picture.

Episode 7

Unidentified painting in Rue Royale

Unidentified painting in Rue Royale

Unidentified painting in Rue Royale

Unidentified painting in Rue Royale

We first saw this piece after Lestat moved back in, in episode 6.

Unidentified paintings in Anderson's office

If you put a name to any of these references, or spot any new ones, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the corresponding #art of the episode post!

We're super close to the second season, and we can't wait! Of course, we'll keep watching with an eye out for interesting references, and it's always easier to find them if we're working together. So, if you spot any interesting art pieces and other references in the second season, make sure to share with the class in the tag #vampterview, and @ us or use the tag #art of the episode if you'd like us to reblog your post into our dedicated tag for these references.

And don't forget to get your very own bingo card for the upcoming predictions bingo, here!