#play at your own risk

[christinered]

Play At Your Own Risk. You've Been Warned.

~Red

[majorsoapfan]

⭐️🥰

Ok, since I've been given the license to choose, I'm going to give you the director's cut about my interpretation of Festus and Coral's relationship. The fic that I'm focusing on for this is Play At Your Own Risk, however for every canon-ish AU that I've written, am in the process of writing or have plans to write, where there is a focus on Festus and Coral's dynamic, I do follow the same dynamic so to speak (so they've definitely been on my mind for a while).

This is going to be very long, but you asked for the director's cut so, you've been warned.

Now, in terms of Festus and Coral's dynamic, at least from what I've shown in my works so far, the paragraphs from 'Play At Your Own Risk' that can sum up their relationship dynamic, in particular, Festus' thoughts towards Coral, is this:

'Then finally, came the Mentors. She knew that they were coming because if the songbird had gotten one, then it was reasonable to assume that so would everyone. Although if she had had the choice, then she would rather have no Mentor at all rather than the one she had gotten. Because hers was a creep. A complete and utter creep, who made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver run down her spine as she observed the way that he had looked at her, the gestures he made towards her, the words he used to describe her. 

She had always thought that the Capitol saw the Districts as something less than human, not quite people like they were, but she was pretty sure that her Mentor didn’t even see her as that. To him, she was probably at best, an object, a possession, something for him to shape and mould in any way that he desired.'

And I'll admit, my inspiration for this stemmed from both the movie and book and from a gifset I saw here on Coral and Festus' first meeting in the film, where the creator made a mistake and had put 'desirable' instead of 'marketable' in Festus' lines. However, I'll admit, it took me a while to realise that it was a mistake, simply because 'desirable' didn't look too different or too off from what Festus had said, and if I hadn't seen the movie, and had just seen that gifset when going by my knowledge of the characters in the book alone, then I genuinely could have seen Festus saying desirable in the film and it looking natural.

Because both 'marketable' and 'desirable' both have connecting factors in what the Mentors are aiming to do with their tributes during the 10th Hunger Games. Their project after all, is for their tribute to be entertaining, therefore it would be obvious to Festus (in his own mind at least) that he needs to market Coral to the Capitol (marketable), he needs to make them want her or want to see her (desirable), otherwise he won't stand a chance at winning the Prize.

I'll admit that the word choice used in the film also felt to me a little like foreshadowing/an easter egg for the audience when referencing to how the tributes are basically marketed to the Capitol in the later Games, with the Capitol population starting to desire the more physically attractive Victors (Finnick, Cashmere, Johanna). Especially when one thinks about Finnick, who was also from District 4, seems to have been 'marketed' as 'desirable', at least after his victory.

(I also headcanon that Coral is actually related to Finnick, through his maternal side. That she's his grandaunt [her brother being Finnick's maternal grandfather] - there's no basis for this really than my own crazy mind connecting dots that aren't there. And if you believe the headcanon that Mags and Coral were friends/romantically involved before Coral was Reaped - which I do, it makes Mags and Finnick's bond that much sadder on Mags side as she would have Mentored Finnick through his Games, haunted by the reminder that she lost a relative of his, someone who was very close to her and she loved deeply, to the Games as well. And then by the time the 75th Games roll around, all of Finnick's family seem to be dead, making Finnick her last living connection to Coral. Finnick's Games and subsequent victory also would have haunted both Festus and Persephone then if they were still alive at the time as both of them would have seen their own dead tribute in him [Coral - family ties and Mizzen - youth and gender] and would have been reminded of their own failures towards their tributes whenever they saw him.)

Admittedly, all of that are just my wild thoughts so please feel free to just write me off as crazy.

However, crazy thoughts or not, it has influenced the way that I write Festus and Coral's relationship, as it highlights the power dynamic that is in place here between the two in the fic (and really any canon setting AU that I write).

Because as Coral hit right on the head in the paragraphs from the fic, Festus doesn't truly see her as a person. He doesn't truly consider her as a human being with her own thoughts and opinions. Right now, he sees her at worst, as an object or a product that he can advertise or market any way he wishes, or at best, an inferior being or animal that he can train and who will act exactly as he tells her to, regardless of whether or not that's who Coral personally is and her own thoughts about this situation and his ideas (another hint to the future fate of the tributes and victors by the time of the Hunger Games trilogy, how they're forced to adopt a marketing strategy so to speak in their interviews to try and get sponsors to help them survive the Arena regardless of their actual personalities and how many of the Victors might have fake personas that they present to the Capitol after they win to protect the last bit of individuality and self that they have from the greedy and entitled grips of the Capitol).

As far as Festus is concerned, Coral has no say, no right to voice an opposing opinion to his plans. She has no choice and he will be making the decisions from here on out when it comes to her well-being and for or the Games.

And then, what makes it worse for Coral here is that Festus can. He has the power to do exactly that. He has the power and the control to mould Coral in any way he wishes. And if Coral wants to give herself a fighting chance at survival (or to give Mizzen the best chance, which means she needs to keep herself in the best shape possible), then she can't go against him. She can't tell him no or try to fight back and/or argue with him.

Festus holds all the cards in this situation. The cards that could spell the difference between Coral's life and death here in the Capitol. Coral after all, is a starving kidnapped child, who is being chained and locked up, with guns being pointed at her constantly, away from her home and her family, with the looming knowledge that death will more than likely be coming for her, as well as trying to look out for Mizzen to in this dangerous environment for them both.

Festus on the other hand, is older than her (only by two years, yes, but as he's eighteen, he is legally an adult, whereas Coral is sixteen it seems and a minor). He is a member of an influential Capitol family and has freedom, perks, powers and comforts that Coral would never have even back in District 4 and as her Mentor holds her life in his hands, holds power over her and she knows this deep down even if she refuses to admit it in the fic.

Because to admit it, would mean admitting that she is vulnerable, that for the first time in her life, she is unable to defend herself and almost entirely dependent on the mercy of a stranger who she has no reason to believe would be merciful. And for someone like Coral, that is agony.

And in 'Play At Your Own Risk', Coral has no trust that Festus will truly help her survive the Games, so Coral needs to take care of herself.

I tried to show to this in particular through the topic of food, the main focus of the fic. Throughout 'Play At Your Own Risk', Coral is watching as the other tributes, already starving, battle between giving in and performing for food, chance that the Capitol citizens might be willing to simply hand it over without giving them something in return, or stubbornly hold on for a little longer. At first she resists going to the visitors to try and obtain food for as long as she can, but after her first meeting with Festus, where she hadn't received anything from him, hunger wins out and she tries her luck with the visitors when she gets back to the zoo.

Because she knows now that she can't count on Festus for help.

After all, technically Festus as her Mentor, should be invested in making sure she's well fed if she's going to have a chance at winning the Games. But that's not what the Mentors are interested in. Not really, going by the requirements of their project. As theoretically, Coral doesn't have to be the last one standing in the Arena for Festus to win (obviously though, the longer your tribute lives, the better your chances at winning. Now admittedly, their tribute living until the end and being entertaining seems to have been slowly intertwined in the quest for the Prize when it hadn't been originally going by the project's aims), she just needs to have been the most entertaining.

There's the difference.

Once again, tying back to Festus' first words to her in the film, he wants to win, therefore she needs to be marketable. She needs to be entertaining. Living until the very end? Maybe.

And for the Mentors, their competition started at the Reaping, they're already competing, therefore they want their tributes to put on a show. To entertain the crowds. Win them that prize. And it's possible that Mentors like Vipsania and possibly Androcles, deliberately didn't feed their tributes at the Zoo to make them perform for it in front of the citizens, as it would make them entertaining and memorable and therefore would better their chances at winning. Who's to say then that Festus hadn't considered the possibility too?

Festus, like Vipsania, seems to be competitive. He canonically likes dogfights and considered that betting on the Hunger Games would liven things up, hinting that he often betted himself. He also wanted Coral to do well in the Games, both for the Prize and for his own glory and had clearly been thinking of ways to achieve that prior to meeting her. Henceforth the way that Coral describes his behaviour towards her in their first meeting in the fic, the way he makes her feel and how he sees her as an object to control.

Festus wants Coral to win him the Prize, but when he first met her had never considered bringing her food to help keep her strength up for her to fulfil the task (not saying that she would, but logic would rule that a well-fed tribute would have the energy to be entertaining over a weaker and starving one). His reasoning for which I didn't show as Coral obviously wouldn't know and wasn't about to ask. I also left it unclear as to how much Coral knows about the Mentor's project/Prize (i.e. be entertaining), but at the end of that meeting, she knows enough:

Festus holds her life in his hands, she is subconsciously aware of this even if she doesn't voice it. Festus could be the key to her survival in the Games, but the same time she holds no trust that he'll actually help her. After all, he never gave her food, while she furiously notes that other Mentors did.

And in doing so or not doing so, Festus lost the only opportunity that Coral might be willing to give to him in terms of trust. Therefore by going to try and obtain food from the visitors at the zoo after, she's trying to make herself less vulnerable/at his mercy.

Coral might be powerless to stop Festus from 'marketing' her to the Capitol, but by trying to get food from the visitors without performing and not waiting and hoping for Festus to show up, she is trying to make herself less dependent on him and reduce the power that he holds over her well-being.

She has no reason to trust that he has her best interests at heart after all.

Now that's not to say that I think that Festus would be nothing but a horrible monster to Coral either. He has a softer side to him too after all (in the book as the film tried to erase it); he was one of the kinder classmates to Sejanus which had been considered unusual due to Sejanus' isolation from his peers due to being from the Districts and he was initially angry with Clemensia for not feeding Reaper in the Arena, even though a starving Reaper would be to Coral's and therefore his own, advantage. And I think after Coral's death, in the film especially, Festus would be haunted by her ghost and her last words for the rest of his life.

And Coral in the book clearly developed some trust towards him as she does ask for and receive food from him when she was in the Arena, so an understanding clearly had been reached between them. But Coral, as of the end of 'Play At Your Own Risk', and many of my other fics, has not reached that point in her relationship with Festus and therefore has no reason to trust someone from the Capitol who views her as a possession or something to control will actually help her.

I hope that makes sense.

[bd-z]

Pokemon Go asked me to send a referral code without prompt. Creepy but what the hell. Why not.

Play with me if you want, I still have room for friends.

-☄️-

If you join or return to Pokémon GO using my referral code BDK6PXMTB, you’ll get a welcome reward, earn special bonus items, and more. https://pokemongolive.com/refer?code=BDK6PXMTB&source=INVITE_PAGE

[bachiles]

Play at Your Own Risk

An unflattering picture of my handsome husband…. . Sitting by the outdoor chess set at a resort and I spy this sign. . So the questioning mind I have is asking “what is the risk?” Will the knights gallop over me? Will the King crown me? Will the rook trick me into something? Honestly — why the sign? All thoughts welcomed and comments made mean a 50 cent donation to our Comments for the Cause…

[girlnextvore]

Me making a new character

[caitlynmeow]

Cassandra is both competitive and petty at the same time. Did you defeat her in a game once? Will make it her mission to defeat you. You come in last place and she's the one before the last? Perfect, she defeated you and it's all that matters. She doesn't care about actual rank, all that matters is that you don't win over her even if you're both at the bottom of the list. She really holds a vendetta and doesn't settle until she brings you down.

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

We’ve got progress, fairies and frogs, and I’m itching to share. (There’s a part 2 here! And a part 3 here!)

Tags: @on-a-lucky-tide @etanesnil @jgvfhl @roachs-pet-roach

Before reading, some notes…

- This is a WIP, so not finished and subject to change, kinda a part one of sorts

- Has only been partially beta-read

- Author is not: British, Russian, a medical professional, or sane; so beware of inaccuracies abound.

- Not quite NSFW (brief reference to sex and blink and you’ll miss it gross-out moment; safe for teens, not for tots)

All that said, enjoy what’s under the cut (or don’t, I’m not your dad).

Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

(working title)

Price groaned gently as he slowly rejoined the land of the living, croaking like a dehydrated frog was caught in his throat. His groan only got deeper as his eyelids creaked open enough to let in the bright overhead lights. A professional even at his lowest, he took no time to run a checklist of his senses in his head.

Sight? Bleary, but he could see the unnecessarily luminous white beams above him.

Touch? Sore, as all hell, even. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t feel a steady throb of ache, but he could tell his head and right leg seemed to have the worst of it.

Smell? An odorous cloud of antiseptic and disinfectant seemed to be ever-present.

With that information alone, even the most daft man could figure out where he was, but the taste of iron lingering under his tongue and the sound of steady beeping sealed the deal. He was in a hospital.

Price cursed to himself internally. He meant to verbalize it but the words he attempted to form came out as further groans.

An almost imperceptible gasp came from Price’s right and he groaned again as he tried and failed to turn. Then, he felt a warm hand grace his cheek—as his brain started twisting back in gear, he could tell there was a considerable amount of bandages covering his face—and saw a figure take up his entire line of sight, forcing his vision to readjust again so soon after barely adjusting to the lights.

As his eyes settled, Price could finally see who was in front of him, as if the hand on his cheek didn’t already tell him all he needed to know. Nik stood over him, whispering sweet assurances in both Russian and English—some amalgamation of “No, don’t move”s and “You’re alright”s and pet names, it all blended together for Price. Price could see a small grin on the Russian’s face with lines across his mug that reflected an endearing relief, but the first thing Price could see in clear, complete detail since opening his eyes was that dogged glimmer of worry.

It made him sick. Literally.

Poor Nikolai, having already pressed the call button for the doctors upon Price’s stirring, now shouted for aid in shock and distress as Price sat up as much as his broken body would allow and spit up bile that couldn’t have more than stomach acid, saliva, and blood in it.

The door of the room opened and quickly nurses and a doctor were upon Price. A half dozen hands checking bandages, assessing vitals, and touching places that made Price groan in what he meant as frustration which only came out as pain. Nik was gently pulled away in the heat of the moment and despite the pilot’s clear desire to cling onto the injured captain like his life depended on it, he allowed himself to be moved to allow the professionals to do their jobs—if only because he knew it was the only way for Price to get better.

After a few minutes—the hectic storm waning as it became clear that Price was not experiencing a life threatening complication—the nurses left, leaving only the two men with the doctor: a short and plump woman with dark skin and curly black hair tied into a bun, with grays streaking from various places.

“Well, it’s good to see you awake, Captain,” she began, looking down at Price, ”I’m Dr. Omar. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Price grunted, and Dr. Omar smiled warmly but with a bit of mirth. “Your injuries shouldn’t affect your speech ability. I suppose you’re just not in a speaking mood.”

“The captain can be man of few words.” Nik chimed in. “Forgive him.”

“No forgiveness necessary, I’m only teasing, Mr. Nikolai.” Her smile had widened.

Nik shook his head returning a smile of his own. “I have already said, Nik is fine, good doctor.”

“I’m flattered to be considered enough of a ‘friend’ to call you that, but I hope you forgive me for maintaining some professionalism, at least for now.”

Price grunted again, this time with more vitriol than before, feeling ignored despite being the one banged up in bed. At the thought, he looked down and couldn’t properly see the damage—being wrapped comfortably tight in blankets—but from what he could see and feel, there were bandages, splints, and gauze littering his body.

Dr. Omar cleared her throat. “Right, well,” she lifted her clipboard to partially cover her face, “you’ve more than a few cuts and bruises, but the worst of it is a concussion and about a half dozen fractures in your right leg.”

“Should see the other guy.” Price groaned, his voice still thick with disuse. Despite his attempt at humor, Price internally kicked himself as he remembered what really happened.

In truth, it was out of Price’s hands when the informant stabbed them in the back to the kingpin they were hunting, but he still blames himself for the op going tits up. Mostly because what was in his hands was his call to try and finish the mission anyway—an effort at salvaging the unsalvageable. It was only after Gaz took lead to the shoulder that Price realized his stubborn tenacity might get his team killed. But in the retreat, he must’ve stepped right into the bastard’s trap without noticing. If it weren’t for Soap calling out the ticking explosive—thanks to the sergeant’s keen awareness of all things demolition—he likely would’ve been blown to smithereens rather than crushed in rubble. A holy man would remark their survival a miracle, but Price was no holy man; all he figured was that his team kept themselves and him alive, despite his frustrating sudden ineptitude.

Nik’s bark of laughter took Price from his thoughts. “Da! The captain is hard to kill.”

“I’m happy to hear that you've got the mind to joke. Based on what your lieutenant told me, it was quite the close call.” Dr. Omar locked eyes with Price. “But I imagine you’re gonna want the prognosis unless you have any more jokes?”

“As much as I’d love to try out my stand up routine, doc, what I want more is to know when I can get out of this bed.”

“Well, this bed? If you’re insistent on spending most of your recovery at home, just a bit of observation and you can be out of here by tomorrow.”

Price’s lips twitched into a near-frown at “recovery” and lifted a single eyebrow.

Dr. Omar sighed and gave a smile full of more pity than warmth. This look also made Price sick, though he kept down the threatening bile. “You’re primarily on bed rest for a week or two, with crutches or a wheelchair to help you get around if you must. After that 4-8 weeks of physical therapy and continued rest. In short,” she sighed again, knowing the weight of her words, “I’ll be recommending you be put on medical leave for at minimum two months.”

“At minimum?” Price winced as he felt a headache coming on, compounding his concussion. Nik, who had moved closer to the bedridden man, quietly snuck his hand into Price’s grasp and gripped firm but carefully. At his touch, Price huffed from his nose—like a bull.

“It could be longer if you don’t rest and rest well, Captain.” Dr. Omar kept her attitude polite but her tone was assertive. “If you’ve been doing this long enough to earn your rank, then I think it’s safe to assume you’re smart enough to know I’m not wrong.”

Price groaned and looked away, wanting nothing more than to argue but begrudgingly agreeing with her assessment. If it were Simon, Kyle, or Soap he’d have leveled them with a single gaze and made sure they stayed on their ass as long as the docs demanded. Fucking hypocrite he was.

Dr. Omar’s lips tightened like she was about to press him further. Nik spoke up instead. “Da, your expertise is welcome and cherished, good doctor. Instead of tomorrow, could I bring Captain Price home by tonight? He will get better rest in a familiar bed.”

Price looked up at Nik who spared him a brief glance with a wink before returning his gaze back to the doctor. Dr. Omar herself looked between the both of them twice and then three times before sighing heavily but with a more amiable smile.

“I suppose I can see what I can do but no promises, Mr. Nikolai! We need to make sure there won’t be any surprises or complications while we still have him.” She pointed at the Russian accusatorially.

“Da! Da! I understand.”

Dr. Omar smiled as she lowered her hand. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you alone if you don’t have any other questions.”

Price looked back at the doctor finally with a blank expression though with a nod of gratitude.

“Thank you, good doctor, we will call again if needed.”

“Please do.” She patted the end of Price’s bed, eliciting a grunt from the man and then she left the room.

Nik dragged a chair back to the side of Price’s bed and tightened his grip on the hand he was still holding. “You are terrible patient, Jonathan.” He chided with a shit-eating grin.

“Bugger off.” Price shifted his face away from Nik, not being able to move much.

Nik chuckled and kissed the man on the cheek, enjoying the way Price’s face turned bright red. “I hope you are better to me.”

It took a moment for that to sit with Price before he turned slowly back towards Nik. “You wot?”

“Oh, you did not think I meant I would take you back to your own bed, did you, Captain? When mine is much better?”

“Oh, bloody—are ya gonna try and fuck me while I’m crippled? Filthy bastard.”

Nik’s grin turned wolfish. “If you would like. Though, I only meant that I would not let you out of my sight while you heal.”

Price’s face got hot again but worse, his gut churned with a wave of nausea that he barely held down. “I’m not a boy needing supervision, muppet.” He grumbled the last bit.

“Nyet, you are very much no boy.” Nik damn near purred. “But can I not take care of you, even after such an injury?”

Price grunted and turned away but made no effort to move and even returned the briefly tightened grip on his hand Nik still had—an implicit surrender, at least for now. Price knew he was in no state to turn Nik down, especially as his options were the Russian or the hospital. At least with Nik he’d stay somewhere with some damn eye candy and that didn’t reek of sick and despair.

Maybe, just maybe, he could trick himself into have a nice leave. Price laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

[panicatthefandomboy]

I'm no longer allowed to whistle at work because i always fall to the tunes of poppentheater/carnaval festival.

have you ever listened to some good hard efteling music on ur way home from work? u should try.

[mumms-the-word]

I know it’s been ten years but honestly? Super spoilery dragon age thoughts under the cut, mostly about Solas (you are warned)

I’m a bit sad people jumping on the Dragon Age train won’t necessarily get to experience the absolute roller coaster of realizing who Solas is. Like playing DAI for the first time and talking to him and befriending him or romancing him (if you so choose) only for that banger of an ending and then Trespasser later?

It’s a whole experience. I honestly wish I could do it all over again for the first time and seeing everything new

I romanced Solas as my very first DAI romance and I was UNPREPARED for the ending. I thought I had messed up the romance at first (I thought the same thing with Anders too after his endgame actions). I had to take a minute and feel my feelings and just sit with my mouth open. Not just at the whole disappearance thing, but the cheeky little post-credits scene

I wasn’t even that mad tbh I was just like amazed at the storytelling. I know that’s me-specific though

When my SIL started playing the games she went in spoiler-free and she asked me my recommendation for romances. I asked what she was playing and she said a Dalish elf, so I said “you have the most romance options possible, but I think you’d enjoy Cullen, because he’s sweet and you liked Alistair, or Solas, because he’s interesting and I know you like good character arcs”

She chose to go with Solas and my brother texted me later like “Lol you’re mean” and I texted back “honestly you only get to experience that final Solas reveal for the first time once and I truly believe it’s best done in a romance with him”

My SIL finished the game with a broken heart lol BUT she agrees with me that it was a good way to play the game for the first time. Going in blind and experiencing all those scenes for the first time through the lens of someone who trusts and perhaps even loves Solas.

For the record, she loves Solas as much as I do now lol

I get that DATV, formerly called Dreadwolf, was always going to be focused on Solas. We knew that at the end of Trespasser. But I do kinda hate that new fans might be coming in with the knowledge that Solas is just The Bad Guy or he’s the villain of the next game, and it might make them trust him less in DAI. Mostly because I think people these days are quick to judge and dismiss characters, and if they think they already know them, they won’t want to change their minds.

I’m probably overthinking it. But it is a little sad to me that all the marketing for DATV spoils the endings for the DAI. That’s all I guess

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[orphiclovers]

The Divine Three Questions and Answers has begun!

–Send an ask to a blog containing 1 to 3 questions from either column (ex. "1.😈 and 😇10.,3.") and recieve answers. –The blog can refuse to answer any questions. –Try not to get cancelled 🥰! Good luck!

Constellation questions 😇: 1. Fave quote(s)? 2. Fave character OUTSIDE of kimcom? 3. Fave character from kimcom? 4. Most impactful scene you're still thinking about? 5. Fave arc in early novel? 6. Fave arc in late novel? 7. Did you read webtoon or novel first? Which one do you like most? 8. Fave fanart(s) you've seen? 9. Fave fic(s) you've read? 10. Character you want carnally? 11. Which character had the best development/arc? 12. What is an ORV song(s) to you? 13. Relationship (romantic or platonic) you want to see more of? 14. fandom theory that is a hill you will die on? 15. What is your most RARE/underrated obsession (character, ship, scene, etc)? 16. OTP(s)?

17. Fave AU?

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[imminent-danger-came]

I'll never get over the fact that MK trades his friends for power to save his friends. What's wrong with him

[sylustra]

Sylus saying "...don't run" to MC when they're finally being openly honest about their desire for one another and their trust and shared spaces.

[errantgoat]

The golden dice are mine!

Gods, never again. xDDD

[chericheribaby]

send me your favorite song atm and I'll tell you what that says about you

[marshmellowtea]

celia absolutely never let chris play outside and that's part of the reason why he's so fragile