#sterling the inkling

[angelicalchaoticabyss]

I have something I saw in a nightmare form, hope it doesn't bite me!

A costume design for Moon pearl made for me by my friend @wildfireowo

Squiiiiid.

[susanontherocks]

I really want to see an episode of Leverage: Redemption where all of a sudden Parker gets a text message from Hardison (from space). Then Parker says “Eliot, I need you to take a deep breath. Be calm.”

Eliot’s eyes narrow, and he starts scanning his surroundings. “I am calm. I will very calmly tear his arms off and beat him to death with them.”

Breanna and Harry don’t know what’s going on, but Breanna might have an inkling. Harry says “I thought Eliot didn’t do that anymore!”

“For him, I will make an exception.”

“Hello,” says Sterling.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Leave

We interrupt your usual program of Astarion to bring you Aemond Targaryen, my newest obsession. (song listened to while writing this is Shatter Me by Lindsey Sterling)

You spot your lord husband staring out the window at the city beneath. It's quieter than usual, the usual bustling of merchants now a whisper and fewer lights flicker in the dark. The city knows war is about to break out in full force soon, the common folk speak of it in hushed whispers, and you can feel the tension in the air.

"Aemond," you call out softly, announcing your presence as you make your way over to him. He remains silent, still looking out the window even as you settle beside him.

He's never like this, the rumours might be true after all.

You're not sure what to say, you don't even know what exactly happened at the Small Council today but you have an inkling of what went down. You'd seen Queen Alicent scowling as she briskly walked out of the room, Ser Criston Cole hurrying alongside her, heard the other members mutter something about your lord husband, their prince, and give you harsh glares. Concerned and furious, you'd searched for Aemond, only to be denied entry into your shared chambers by his guards no matter how much you tried to force your way in before storming off to the godswood to cool off.

You'd waited and waited until nightfall before approaching your shared chambers once more, and now here you are, right next to him and still he refuses to see you. You play with your sleeves anxiously, wanting to know what had happened but at the same time wanting to give him the space he needed.

"My pri—"

"Aren't you going to leave me too?" His words come out harsh, like arrows that pierce through your heart.

"Leave?" You ask, confused.

"Did you not hear me clearly the first time?" He snarls, features twisting in fury.

"Why would I leave you?" You reach out to touch him but he slaps your hand away, eye narrowed.

"Because I'm a monster who wants war, a kinslayer who wants to kill the rest of my kin, a bloodthirsty prince who—" The rest of his words get caught in his throat. Tears prick the corner of his eye but he swallows the urge to break down in front of you. His throat bobs as he lifts his head high, just like his mother always taught him to. Show no weakness, lest others take advantage of you.

"You're none of those." You shake your head. "You're a prince who wants to protect those he loves, you see the threat looming over their heads and want to remove it as soon as possible, you're my dragon prince who just wants to see those he cares about safe, and that's why I fell in love with you."

He snorts, pushing you away. "Lies. All of them."

Still you persist, your fingers gently brushing against his arm and he flinches slightly. He chews his bottom lip, hesitantly lifting his eye to meet your gaze. You hold the connection, resting your hand on his forearm. This time he doesn't move.

"I would never leave you." The tone of your voice leaves no room for argument and for a moment, Aemond is taken aback by your ferocity. Then he gives you a small smile, resting his hand on top of yours. His thumb runs over your smooth skin, feeling the size of your hand against his, feeling the warmth that resides in it.

You're still here. Even after everyone has left him.

His lip trembles, struggling to hold back the dam that wants nothing more than to burst forth. His throat feels tight, his smile wavering and then you pull him into a hug, burying your face into his chest.

You're all he has left.

His arms wrap themselves around you, holding you tightly as he presses his lips against the top of your head. Tears start to roll down his cheek silently, with him biting back the sobs that clog his throat. He doesn't want to show such weakness in front of you, and yet you always manage to coax it out of him.

Gently, you lead him to your shared bed, cradling his face between your palms, your thumb wiping his tears away. Your soft lips press against his, a quick peck before you slip the eyepatch off, and then another kiss on the sapphire sitting in his empty eye socket.

"If the world was ending, I would want nothing more than to be next to you."

The words are but a whisper, spoken within the walls of your shared chambers for no one but him to hear, and are more than enough to shatter the dam. Your dragon prince weeps, sobs wracking his slender frame and tears stain the fabric of your clothes. You continue to cradle him in your arms, your heart aching with each cry that spills from his lips.

His fingernails dig into your sleeves as he clings onto you like you're his lifeline while you run your fingers through his silver-gold hair. You feel him lean into your touch, almost keening. He needs you just as much as you need him, he needs you to be there to catch him when he falls, to be the shoulder for him to cry on, to be the only witness to his weakness.

You patiently wait for him to let it all out, sitting in silence until he lifts his red puffy eye to meet yours. He swallows, letting you coax him into lying down and buries his face into your chest.

You smell nice, like home, like comfort, and he knows he's secure in your arms. Just for tonight, your roles are reversed. You're his shelter, his haven, and only in your arms does he allow his walls to come down.

"Promise?" He asks, his voice thick with sorrow. He sounds so small, so vulnerable, nothing like the prince he is outside of these doors.

"Promise." You nod. He sighs, relaxing against you and places a palm on your cheek. You rest your hand on top of his, keeping it there as your fingers intertwine, connecting the both of you.

"I won't ever leave you too," he whispers, letting his eye close.

"I know, my dragon."

[autumnwyvern]

I needed a new character to slot into a bit of updated OC Lore™ and then made a sort off relationship chart thing (which is fully transcribed under the cut)

First is the Splatlands Squad consisting of Ren, Lottie, Sterling, Citron, Dewdrop, and Astera. Ren -> Citron says "..Thanks" Citron -> Ren says "What a lonely gal..." Astera -> Lottie "Very... Eccentric..." Lottie -> Astera "A sweet little thing, but not my type..." Sterling -> Lottie "Annoying and impossible to get rid of" Lottie -> Sterling "You haven't changed a bit!" Sterling -> Citron "I owe you one" Citron -> Sterling "You really grew into a softie huh" Dewdrop -> Lottie "So cool..." Lottie -> Dewdrop "Don't grow too big, you are lucky to be so peaceful among inkfish" Dewdrop -> Sterling "You're so smart uncle Sterling!" Sterling -> Dewdrop "You are hope for a better future..." Sterling -> Astera "Poor thing is in over her head..." Astera -> Sterling "I don't understand why you do so much for me, but I'm grateful!" Astera -> Citron "Thanks again!" Citron -> Astera "Don't be a stranger!" Astera -> Dewdrop "I'm so glad to have met you! You will always be my family." Dewdrop -> Astera "My big sister is so smart and kind!

Then off to the side are three more characters who happen to be in Inkopolis who don't know anyone else, AE the seaslug, Sunrise, and Rosemallow both inklings.

[jacentric]

heres some of my fibers and metalsmithing work if yall wanna see it :) im putting it all under the cut so i can explain them a bit lmao (and theres also a good amount of them)

this one is probably my favorite maybe ever. its a self portrait and i dyed the three colors in the background that arent solids and the patterns in my hair and shirt i designed in illustrator and printed them out on fabric with this rly cool fabric printer. this is also 60x80 inches so its big. and the backing fabric is also fully dyed (the photo on the right featuring my cat helping ofc)

these are little keychains/zipper pulls of pride flags that i dyed most of the colors for (excluding the basic rainbow) and wove on an inkle loom. we sold them to raise money for various queer charities (i started this project after a shooting at a queer club in my state. we donated about $500 to them)

these rings were lost wax cast in sterling silver and bronze. the two on the left are knit and purl stitches and i hand carved them out of wax. the next three are cat food, corn, and a tractor tire and those i designed in a 3d modeling program and 3d printed them out. and the last one is a design from a spoon handle that i took a mold of and then cast.

this one is another favorite. instead of weaving just one solid fabric, this is weaving two at the same time (called double weave) and basically the black butterflies can be/are a seperate fabric than the purple ones. but they are interwoven together to make this pattern. it took foreverrrr to weave this and i came up with the pattern myself. (i was also individually picking up the strands to make the pattern based off of my graph paper sketch)

another weaving here that ended up being like 2x3 feet big. i wove it on a giant frame loom i made. its a tide pool and for our critique i submerged it in water and had a little aquarium pump running to create some waves. a fun fact about this piece was i made it when i first started watching foolish. this took absolutely forever and i watched foolish build the xd statue wings at the same time so we were 'suffering' together XD

i definitely have more to share if anyone wants to see them but ill end with this one for now. this is a copper chain mail pocket that can be used to help dye fabric. i made all of the jump rings myself (winding wire around a dowel and then sawing the spring into rings and which also took forever) and the chainmail pattern is called japanese 6 in 1. there is one slightly bigger and thicker ring with 6 smaller ones coming off of it. and it is so satisfying to hold bc its so heavy and makes such a nice noise. and the fabric dying bit, when dying with natural dyes (marigolds, logwood, etc) you need a mordant that basically allows the color to 'stick' to the fabric. most of the time, ive used alum which comes from aluminum, but copper also works. so i get to skip the step of pre-soaking the fabric in an alum mixture and can instead just put my marigolds into the copper pocket and that will mordant it and the same time its being dyed. you can see the little yellow fabric sticking out of the pocket there and that was dyed using the bag.

anyway if you made it this far down thanks for reading and id looove to talk more about any of this if you have questions or want to see more works of mine,, i have a lot XD :)

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Taste of Revenge (2)

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, mentions and descriptions of jail, car crashes, descriptions of drowning, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, cursing, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), spoilers for Hannibal, references to Leverage, past Frederick Chilton/Rafael Barba, NSFW moments and angst.

Chapter 2

The enormity of what you had done struck you when you closed your front door behind you and stared blankly at your dining room.  Weeks ago, you had returned from an undercover mission and sat here with your team, eating food, and chatting happily with no inkling of what was going to unfold.  Now the space seemed far too empty and the irrational feeling of isolation was creeping through your body.

“There is no reason that I should be feeling isolated.  My team are a phone call away and while we are loyal to each other, if they disagreed with my choice to resign, they would have remained sitting in the conference room.  None of us are blinded by our loyalty to each other.  I wasn’t the only member of the NCIS team that was impacted by Sterling and Chilton’s actions.”

Feeling slightly better, you cast your gaze around the house and wondered what you could do with your newfound freedom.  Just as you were trying to decide between baking a Dutch apple cake or baking a Boterkoek or collapsing on your lounge and channel surfing, your phone vibrated and began to ring.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and examined the display.  The number on your screen was unfamiliar.  Your thumb hovered over the reject call button but then you noticed that the call was coming from Manhattan and hoping that it was someone from the SVU squad, you took a chance and pressed the accept call button.

“How is my favourite NCIS agent?” You were startled when the voice of Sonny Carisi sounded from the speaker of your phone.

“It’s good to hear your voice, Sonny.”  You sighed, making your way over to your couch and kicking off your shoes before sitting on one of the cushions with a content exhale. 

“You don’t sound particularly happy to hear my voice.  Did you have a rough day?  Am I interrupting?”

You shook your head and then remembered that he couldn’t see you, “Something like that.  Interpol came sniffing around because I forwarded the information about our joint case to them and not only did Jim Sterling’s team turn up at our base but Sterling decided in his infinite wisdom to source a specialist from Baltimore, Doctor Frederick Chilton, and he recommended that my team be demoted to probationary agents.  Ziva observed that we would regain our status as full NCIS agents quickly if we cooperated with Sterling’s team.  In the sense that we followed their orders and their lead while they conducted an investigation in D.C.”

There was a loud crash as if a heavy object had been knocked off a surface and onto the hard floor.  “I hope you told Sterling what he could do with his offer.”  Sonny stated bitingly. 

“I did and it wasn’t just me.  My whole team resigned and then Sterling tried to detain us for ‘obstructing his investigation.’”

“Tried to detain you?” Sonny echoed indignantly.  His accent grew thicker as he spoke.

“It didn’t work.”  You reassured him, “I pointed out several flaws in his argument and he had no choice but to let us leave the base.  Tony locked him, his agents and Chilton in the room and pocketed the key to the room.”

Sonny barked out a laugh, “I shouldn’t enjoy that as much as I do.”

“Don’t worry too much about it.  You’re not the only one who found it amusing.  Tim locked down the network and Abby took her machines offline.  Since Ducky and Palmer quit too, Sterling has no ME team.”

“Remind me to never make any members of your team angry.”

You hummed, “I have no doubt that your team would be as efficient and brutal if they were placed in the same situation.”

“On that note, is it alright if I put you on speaker so you can fill the squad in?”

“Sure.  Forewarned is forearmed.”

“Exactly my thoughts.”

There was a quiet thud and then Sonny’s voice rang out, calling Fin, Oliva, Amanda, and someone called Kat over to his desk.  A click sounded on the line and then you heard Sonny’s voice again, “You’re on speaker (Name).”

“Thanks Sonny.  How are you all?  How’s Manhattan?”

“We’ve just finished a case.”  Olivia replied and you could hear the exhaustion in her voice.  Underneath that though, there was relief at hearing your voice and a longing to be somewhere else.  Having been through some challenging cases of your own, you resolved to sum up the day’s events as quickly as possible so the squad could leave and have some rest.

“Hi, I’m Kat!  You can’t see me but I’m waving at the phone.”  You liked her enthusiasm immediately; she reminded you a little of Abby and how Bishop had acted when she was first introduced to the team.

“It’s nice to meet you Kat.  Although I wish I had better news to share with you all.”

You repeated what you had told Sonny and you were very grateful that the SVU squad didn’t interrupt you as you were talking.  Perhaps they understood that you weren’t particularly keen on repeating yourself again since you had explained this all to Sonny.  Or maybe they had been in similar or worse situations before and knew that it was better to get the information out as quickly as possible.

“That’s the downside to this job.”  Fin said sagely when it was clear that you had finished your recount.  “Too many people who think they know more about the job than we do.  Politicians tend to be the most vocal about our shortcomings when they think that it’ll benefit them.”

“I wish I could disagree with you.” Kat spoke.  “This Doctor Chilton seems to be just as bad as Sterling.  I wonder how well they would’ve done if they were tasked with solving the joint case.  Maybe we should look into creating a simulator that we direct them into if another situation like this arises.”

“I would pay to see that, Kat.”  You replied before bracing yourself to reveal a piece of information that you had forgotten to tell Sonny when you were summing up the day’s events.  “There’s one other thing.  I’m pretty sure Sterling did it on purpose.  Knowing him, I wouldn’t be too surprised but I thought there was a shred of human decency in him.  I guess I was wrong.”

“Why are you stalling?”  Olivia asked softly.

You closed your eyes, “Doctor Chilton looks uncannily similar to Barba.  He sounds like him and they have similar mannerisms.  The only differences are that the doctor has a beard, walks with a cane and dresses differently.”

There was complete silence on the other side of the phone.  The silence stretched on for so long that you began to wonder if there was anyone on the other side of the phone.

“There’s absolutely no way that was an accident!”  Amanda exploded, “Especially since you forwarded all the information to Interpol.  My heart goes out to y’all over there.  This Sterling sounds more annoying than a box full of mosquitos at a fifth Sunday potluck!”

While you were unfamiliar with the last bit of vocabulary that Amanda used, you could decipher the tone behind her words and you laughed bitterly.

“Sterling isn’t someone I would choose to work with.  We’ve dealt with him and his team in the past and we nearly had a bad situation become much worse because of his and his team’s egos.”

“Thank you for the warning.  We’ll keep our eyes open.” 

“I hope we’ve taken enough wind out of his sails and he doesn’t bother your squad, Olivia.  Take care.” 

“You too.”

The line disconnected and you stared at your phone for a few minutes before putting it down on the table next to the couch and laying down on the lounge.  It became increasingly hard to keep your eyes open and eventually your eyes drifted closed.

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a few hours.”  You promised yourself before you fell asleep.

On the other side of the door of a particularly dingy motel room on the I495, just out of Washington D.C., Rafael Barba mulled over the information that he had overheard on the phone call between you, Sonny and the SVU squad.  It had been a costly favour to install the phone tap on the SVU phones for outgoing calls and lately, Rafael had been pondering the usefulness of his idea as he had overheard nothing of any real importance.

That was until today.

“Your boss is a persistent one I’ll give him that,” Rafael directed his words to the other occupant of the room.  The other person gave no response as the mafia boss directed his attention to him and stared back at the mafia boss with a blank expression.  On the inside, he was panicking.  He didn’t know how Barba had discovered that he was an ex-Interpol agent turned informant and had infiltrated Barba’s ranks.  What he did know was that the situation he was in was deteriorating rapidly and if he had any hope of surviving this, he had to think of something very quickly.

“I was more than content to keep my head down.”  Barba continued levelly, “I had several plans on how I could approach (Name) again and win back her trust.  But then, your boss forced my hand.”

“It wasn’t just him though!”  The ex-agent burst out, “You heard (Name) as clearly as I did!  She said twice that the other man, Doctor Chilton, is just as much to blame for her and her team resigning.”

“Frederick has a role to play.”  Barba stated dispassionately as he adjusted his gloves and reached into his coat pocket.  “He might have been able to predict how (Name) and her team would have acted but Sterling has worked with them in the past.  He knows that team and therefore, he would have known how they would react.  He didn’t care.”

With a quick move, Rafael withdrew a gun from his pocket and pressed it to the ex-agent’s head.  The other man’s eyes widened with terror as the mafia boss cocked the hammer.

“What’s that old saying?”  The former ADA questioned rhetorically.  The informant felt his heart thumping frantically against his ribcage with every beat as he realised that there was no possible way that he would be getting out of this alive.

“In for a penny, in for a pound.”

[bekalawson]

JAGGED TEETH

October 4, 2023 - 31 days of prompts! 🎃

The abandoned graveyard is covered in rare October snow. You sit at a makeshift table and chairs, improvised out of old gravestones by yourself and the others. You take turns passing around your stolen apple whiskey. A third of the bottle left, it sloshes between grips, grabs, and upturns, between guffaws and inebriated conversation.

“You know,” Charlie slurs. “A damn shame.”

“A damn shame what, Charlie-char?” Sasha greets his slur with a tipsy tangle of words.

“How could someone not tend to a graveyard?”

“Shame—” Samuel tries to chime in, but falls over, spilling the rest of the bottle all over himself.

Sterling white, interrupted by brownish yellow. Snow melts through the tangles of Samuel’s hair and slips down his hoodie. He jumps to his feet, flapping and flailing and failing to escape the sudden cold.

“Damn shame!” comes the chorus of gleefully drunken young adults.

“Argh!” Samuel finally sits up with a grunt. He’s the only one unamused.

Within the dying laughter, Sasha says: “You think they all find peace?”Samuel wipes the last of the snow off his lap. “Know what I think? I think no matter what, no matter how— how you die, it don't matter. Take this graveyard. Who… who’s been cleanin’ it up? No one. But they're all— they're all still dead, ain’t it? Don't matter. You die, you're dead. Where you go? What’s heaven anyway? What's hell? It's all just— mass. Really.” Samuel smears his words like finger paint.

“The hell are you talkin’ ‘bout, my boy?” you ask your inebriated friend. 

At some point during his speech, the others found themselves caught up in side chatter, so you were the first to notice.

“Samuel,” you chuckle. But he no longer responds. “Samuel?” You nudge him, and this gets the attention of your friends.

Samuel wipes himself down, confused, and stares out at nothing. “Do you… hear that?”

“Hear what?” Charlie asks, still laughing.

Samuel stands and starts walking, without another word.

“Sam?” you call after him. You receive no inkling that he’s heard you.

You and your friends share a glance at one another.

“Aw, he’s had too much.” Sasha pushes herself up off her stone seat. She reaches after Samuel, but he brushes right past her. 

She gets up to follow him, and the rest of you follow suit.

“First he wastes the golden water. Now he wants to play some creepy game of follow-the-leader,” Charlie mutters.

You shove Charlie to the side. “Why would you call it that, my guy?”

“Don't make fun of Charlie!” Sasha yells back at you. “You don't know what Charlie-char’s into.”

“Hey Sam, you think we've gone far enough?” you call out to Samuel. “I don't even think we’re in the graveyard anymore.”

“Hm,” Charlie says, looking around. “Too much snow to tell, really. It really came down today.”

“Maybe he just has to pee. Anyone thought of that? We could be following him and he could've been tryin’ to shake us this whole time. Remember, Sam, shake it once—” 

Sasha slams into Samuel’s back.

Samuel is reaching and waving in the air as if feeling for something. His lips are moving, but no one hears anything. Cold marches down your spine. 

Sasha reaches for his shoulder, but fear keeps her from making contact. You begin to wonder if he truly did have too much to drink. Or maybe he took something before drinking. 

The three of you— you, Sasha, and Charlie— each take a tentative step forward. You try pulling him away. It’s well past time to go home. You'll have him flush out whatever’s in his system. 

The closer you get to him, the more clear his mumbling is, but you still can't make it out. Now, you and your friends begin to panic. You keep pulling at Sam, but his wrist slips out of your hand. Each time you try— slip. Slip. Slip. One word seems to slip into your hearing. Something about a singularity.

Come on, Sam, it's time to stop playing games, is what you start to say. But like oil sucked down a drain, Samuel slips away. He melts into nothing. Nothing left of him but footprints in the snow.

White noise penetrates your ears. It's not until you're tripping in the snow that you realize you and your friends have run away, screaming, unable to comprehend what you just saw. Or— what you think you saw. You steal a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, nothing remains but divots in the snow where Samuel stood just a moment ago.

You have to get out of here. Surely you're dreaming. You have to be.

Gradually, it becomes quieter and quieter. You turn to find that Charlie has stopped running. He’s trekking through the snow in the same direction that Samuel was. You try to grab him, to stop him, but again— just like Samuel, Charlie drips into nothing. Blots out of existence. 

You fall to your back, then push yourself up and start to run away again, but— just ahead, Sasha wipes herself off and walks toward you. You run at her, grab her wrist, pulling, but you fall to your knees as she slips out of your hand. 

You reach out again and face the same results. 

You force yourself up and tackle her to the ground. 

Still, she manages to slip out of your grasp. Continues her walk. As you watch your last friend mumble and spill out of existence, you feel the hope leave your body, like a moth giving in to the embrace of the spider’s web. Yet you still run. All that's left is the sound of your hollowed breath and the crunching beneath your boots.

You’re stopped short by an oily black orb, buoyed in the air in front of you. Before you can think, it bursts, spilling its impossibly dark, oily contents on you. Frantically, you wipe all over yourself. 

You think to throw yourself into the snow, but your mind becomes muddled, leaving you unable to command your own body. Surely, steadily, the words become clear. 

You understand it to be the whispering of the abyss. It repeats its mantra in you: Everything is nothing and nothing is everything. We are no one and we are everyone. You are us and we are you. The purpose of life, singularity. 

(There is no life. There is no death. There is only life. There is only death. There is only the singularity.)

You find, in fact, that you want this. We’re led to the spot where our friends disappeared.

Space unzips its jagged teeth, welcoming you home.

[spiinsparks]

❝  YO , ARE-BEAR ❞ hand moved to tussle the hair at the top of ari's head. an inkling of fondness glittered behind the eye before morphing alongside his sterling grin into something a little bit more ... mirthful. ❝  you ever seen a CHAO before , kiddo?  ❞

@earthssprout / random for u because i just think abt them

[fatefought]

she understands. that doesn't surprise him, coriolanus snow never wrote domitila off as incapable. the same cannot be said for every capitolite. but like roses, even the major metropolis of panem had its thorns. and like roses, those thorns could be blissfully ignored or ultimately trimmed if the threat of disappointment loomed too close to one's skin. luckily, the stylist mused more like the flower bud than otherwise. not pristine and pure like the white roses of his guardian, but certainly a respectable and favorable red. and that makes her one worthy of extra attention over others. the stylists of twelve could not ( and should not ) hold the honor of such a thing. down the line, the foul stench of their treason will be approached. katniss everdeen and her husband can see them both be dangled prior. soon.

" their inklings of perceived poor treatment stems from their apparent greed and delusion of grandeur. they don't care for the careful ecosystem that keeps panem running smoothly. the insurgents don't care for anyone but themselves. we could never stoop to such a low as them. that's why appearences matter so much, don't they miss domitila ? " he monologues, though ending with something he only means rhetorically. if the capitolite socialite has her wits, she knows agreement is the only solid choice. he thinks she has them. the president understands individualism and the need to ensure self-preservation. but even then, was the need of the nation not more important ? who cares if it benefits others more ? without the system, all ceases to exist.

he remains seating in his throne-like desk chair. it's grand, though he did have the chair commissioned to be shorter just so it wouldn't eat up the small-framed coriolanus. he takes an opportunity to top off both their cups with more steaming tea. in his own, he places a singular sugar cube in the tiny teacup. ( oh finnick odair, you have angered the wrong man ; hasn't the president done so much for you ? ) " mrs. whitvale has always been known to garner attention easily, that's true. such a shame what's come of her family. sterling's reputation has always been rather less than his name would imply alas. " there's a shrug of indifference before he takes a graceful, polite sip from his beverage. eyes scan over pastries, disappointed to find that the danishes had no fruit. someone will hear about that.

" information and pictures of each will be relayed accordingly. most will be open to design to you. let the inspiration sway you. if there's something that is a request, it will be added accordingly to the files, " he adds. roses here and there ; colors and shades for others. in other words, the president will be mostly hands off. she'd designed for the games and society in the past. he understands her capabilities. some faces - cecelia whitvale, thea ellis, peeta mellark, amara silverhorn just to name a few - will acquire his attention. but others, like those from the city or district one, have caused for no area of concern from him. the president looks at the stylist almost like he has for the first time since meeting today. intention is clear, even amongst sugarcoated wording. " that has yet to be determined, my dear. we shall see where your assistance takes us, " he says smile warm. but just like the woman from the capitol, he has a message. do not disappoint. but domitila won't, would she ? " miss domitila, we will be in touch. "

the president speaks beautiful words, yet another proof he is magnanimous and intelligent enough for the position he holds. if once she'd have been able to joke about how purity is not something belonging to someone in charge for so long, that surely this man has more cunning than he'd like to appear, today she does not let her mind wander to any possible flaws coriolanus snow has, nor all the horrible things he must have done — not unless she wants to be another possible ignored casualty (she doesn't). the stylist exhales, smile more certain in her lips. "of course, you are more than right, sir. these.. rioters from the districts can not be led to believe we will stray from our values and stoop down to their level of barbarity. the capitol can never not be stunning." she is not scared to appear simply futile. glossing imperfections has always been something the capitol has done, something that she has enjoyed doing — why would someone show something other than their best, their beauty, to the world?

she is quiet as he lists those she will work on, but it's not without some struggle that she keeps the smile on her lips. she had not seen cecelia, but it was easy to assume the woman would be lying low, or perhaps had taken the opportunity to escape to her tiny district — she's heard eight has been rowdy, but she's never thought cecelia to be the revolting type. she's always been eager to come to the capitol, to wear her clothes, pose for the cameras. her husband is another story. could it be that he has doomed her? men! and then, there's thea. thea, whom domitila had become assured to be with the rebels, because she'd never abandoned that phony of a smith volunteer; now, domitiila knows she's not in some rebel district, nor is she dead. for nine years they've known each other, and for longer domitila has admired that stunning victor and, now, domitila can not begin to think how she must be. half a ghost thea, taken from all that truly matters to her, kept in safety from the rebels but trapped in a city she so detests.

the stylist tries to keep her façade unmoving as she threads through the feelings. at least both thea and cecelia are alive, and have not been stained by the rebellion. isn't that a good thing? she will even get to see them soon. yes, yes. her tongue itches to query more, ask about their whereabouts, but she knows better. she will figure it out soon enough. "i believe they shall comply, sir. cecelia has a way with the cameras, as we know." she doesn't speak of thea. the president has known the victor longer than domitila has, and it's unlikely he wouldn't know thea has a penchant to be contrary for the sake of it, but domitila hopes that the former mentor would at least use that spite to keep herself alive rather than to defy the capitol. "of course. i am always eager to take on new clients, sir and my seamstresses have plenty of time. as long as we have some information on them, i shall fashion whoever you'd like the way you'd like." it's nothing different than an usual order — nay, it's better. this is for the president. the stakes may be higher, but so are the gains. maybe this is not something she can say no to, but it's not like she'd want to say no, not truly. the smile returns to her lips, more honestly than in days, brighter too. "you've honored me greatly, mr. president, i can not wait to begin. will i get to meet them? i wouldn't want just some seamstress doing all the finish work." in a way, she doesn’t want to be robbed of anything that is hers, it’s what is implied.

[kylieskorner]

Second Hand Feelings

The ability to understand and feel,

Is to squeeze your own eyes

Shut tight in embarrassment,

When a character in a book

Makes a gut wrenchingly painful mistake.

A pure feeling, a pure color

Like white or gold,

The color of sterling intentions,

And the sound of loving voices

Softly consoling another,

In the dark when all seems lost,

Because that second hand inkling

Can have feelers feeling

In both directions.

Or the sound of heavy breathing,

When my sister feels anxious,

And my blood immediately runs cold.

And just like that

I can’t catch my breath,

The haze, the fumes,

Like second hand smoke,

It’s happening to her,

And yet somehow I feel it,

Feel it happening to me.

I have second hand emotions,

I’m second hand scared to death,

I love second hand jumping for joy.

Only sprinting can defuse the tension,

Huffing and puffing, I need to dash,

My lungs keep screaming,

Screaming for me to stop,

But second hand feelings don’t stop.

[gocatboygo]

i need suggestions for names for my ducks and goats in stardew valley

[fairymint-archive]

@ask-googlie-the-inkling  ❓

“Neat! What kinds of things do you do?”

🤖} “I enjoy the occasional jogging and sport, although I am capable of defense capabilities and heavy lifting!” 

[chelsea-katz]

.

"Well, there's no arguing with that." Chelsea couldn't remember the last time she had a real, honest-to-God nap. The closest thing for her was dozing off in her favorite old chair, trying to focus and think up some article she could deliver at the last minute, while petting Sterling, quietly purring on her lap.

Chelsea laughed. "Tina... Yes, Tina Bell. I've heard some things about you." So, she had guessed correctly, back at the party. The girl who hung around with the Lost Boys. A Lost Girl, you might even call her. But 'lost' often meant she had once belonged somewhere. A new mystery, no doubt. "Hey, now that I can get a good look at you, mask-less, haven't I seen you roaming Neverland Hotel?" she asked, knitting her brows together. "Me, I'm the most distinguished Miss Chelsea Katz. You must have heard of me." This was when she would present a business card, if she had one. Truly, Chelsea had no problem with being well known, even though building a reputation was, no doubt, important for dealing with potential witnesses and interviewees.

"Coffee and chicken nuggets. I see you're a woman of refined tastes," she said, without an inkling of sarcasm. Now she was in the mood for chicken nuggets. The ones with a crispy crust, and soft warm insides... Yes, her decision was made. "Which side sauce? Or do you take them as they are, fresh and inexperienced?"

Tina's grimace only grew against all efforts to suppress it. While it was absolutely true that Tina craved a life of interest, sometimes, just sometimes, she craved a goddamn break. Going, by her context, was less about 'going through the motions', and more about hurtling full pelt down a hill on a bicylcle with no breaks, no steering capabilities and no helmet to save her from the inevetable collision with a very sturdy tree. "Yeah, but there's 'interesting' and then there's 'interesting'. Sometimes a girl just needs a fuckin' nap." Who could resist the sweet call of the hotel laundry room, with it's freshly laundered linens and spare pillow pile?

"Miss Foliage is a lot better than some things I've been called," Tina said. "I guess if we're killing the mystery once and for all, you can call me Tina." Still, Tina hadn't the foggiest who this wild woman was. Perhaps it was because she was painfully unobservant when she wanted to be; Tina was rather single minded, and awful at caring about anything or anyone that didn't concern her directly. "Who are you?"

With no regard for manners, Tina scooped up a menu from a nearby, currently occupied table, ignoring cries of indignation. "The only thing that will save this day from total ruin is a sharing portion of chicken nuggets and a black coffee."

[jacebeleren-remaking-blog]

the deepweb hitman that everyone’s been asking about

[splattsy]

Luv ...

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Taste of Revenge (1)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, mentions of non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, mentions and descriptions of jail, car crashes, descriptions of drowning, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), spoilers for Hannibal, references to Leverage, past Frederick Chilton/Rafael Barba, NSFW moments and angst.

Chapter 1

“Come on Tim!”  You growled from behind clenched teeth at your partner of six weeks, “We have that stupid external review and we’re going to be late if you keep tapping away at your keyboard!  In case you’ve forgotten, just to complicate matters, the review is going to be conducted by Jim Sterling’s Interpol team.”

“I’m coming.  I’m coming.”  Your partner assured you as he finished what he was doing on his computer and stood up.  “And in answer to your statement, no I hadn’t forgotten that Sterling’s Interpol team would be conducting our review.”

He flicked you on the forehead as he stalked past you.

It didn’t take long for you to catch up with him, “What were you doing on your computer?”

Tim grinned mischievously, “I like to think of it as my insurance policy.”

You groaned and shook your head, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“What, you don’t appreciate my clever pun?”

You ignored him.  The Interpol agents that were waiting at the entrance to the conference room looked all too smug and then you noticed the other members of your team.

“We’re all going in here?” You questioned.

“Looks like it.”  Ziva confirmed.

“This is ridiculous.  In my day, when someone was a visitor, they acted like a guest.  There was no sense of entitlement to another’s space.”  Ducky groused, shooting a disapproving look at the agents guarding the door.

“So all of us are going to be in the conference room at the same time?” Tony probed.

“I thought that was clear.”  The Interpol agent on the left scoffed.

“And once again, the Interpol team disregards Gibbs’ rules.  They’re there for a reason.  The last time they disregarded Rule 1, the suspect nearly got away.  If it hadn’t been for Abby and Ziva’s quick thinking, the suspect would have escaped.”

Tim seemed to have an inkling as to what you were thinking because he clasped his hands together with his right hand over his left.  His fingers on his right hand were visible and he discreetly tapped them against the back of his left hand four times.

“Right.  Rule 16.  If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it.”

“Every time that I deal with your team, it always takes me a minute to remember that Sterling does things differently to our boss.”  You said to the Interpol agents.

The two agents exchanged a look, unsure of what to make from your comment.  Luckily for them, they didn’t need to respond because the door to the conference room opened inward and in the doorway stood Jim Sterling.  The Interpol agent wore a black suit with a red tie and confidence oozed from his every pore.  He was exactly as you remembered him down to his jade green eyes that glinted with a strange fire and his neatly-styled, thinning brown hair.

It felt like your heart skipped a beat and then started to beat at double the speed as you gazed at the shorter man standing next to Sterling. 

“He’s in prison.  He’s in prison.  He’s in prison.”  You chanted in your mind.

Sterling smiled thinly in your direction, “May I introduce you to Doctor Frederick Chilton?  I requested him and his expertise for this review all the way from Baltimore.  Doctor Chilton, meet the NCIS team that I spoke to you about.”  Sterling used his hand to gesture to all of you.

“Please come in.”  Doctor Chilton requested, moving to the other side of the door so that you could trickle into the room one-by-one.

“I stand by my previous point.”  Ducky glowered as he stepped into the room.

“Duck.”  Gibbs warned half-heartedly.

After a non-verbal conversation between you and your partner, you walked reluctantly into the room first.  As you walked past Doctor Chilton, you did your best to ignore the unsettling way his eyes followed you. 

“He looks and sounds so similar to Barba.  I hope that’s where the similarities end.”

You took the seat next to Abby close to the end of the table and Tim sat down on your other side.

“They took my Caf-Pow and tipped it down the sink in front of me,” Abby hissed to you and Tim venomously.

Once you registered Abby’s words, you switched your gaze to Sterling who moved to sit on the opposite side of the table, next to Doctor Chilton.  Both men wore confident expressions.  There was a soft thud and you twisted around to see that the two agents that had been in front of the door when you arrived now stood in the room with their backs to the door and their hands crossed in front of them.

You barely refrained from shaking your head again.

“How many times is this team going to prove Ducky and Gibbs right?”  You wondered.  “And how many times will we be impacted because of their actions?”

As soon as you thought the word ‘actions,’ your mind flashed back to Barba.  Even now, six weeks after the case with SVU, Barba’s actions never ceased to make anger curl in the pit of your stomach at the way that he had played you, the NCIS team and the SVU squad.  There was another reason for your anger, one you didn’t try to dwell on but occasionally kept you up at night.  After your walk with Barba you had considered him a friend.  His betrayal had cut you deeply.

“And now for the findings.  Doctor Chilton, if you would be s-”

“Hang on.”  Gibbs interrupted, “Are you telling us that you’ve already made your decision?  I thought this was a review.”

“It is.  You were tried in absentia.”  Sterling replied.  On any other person, his British accent may have been attractive and comforting but in this instance, the charm and amusement in Sterling’s voice had disgust forming in your stomach as you attempted to figure out what Sterling gained from his current course of action.

You clenched your jaw as Doctor Chilton began to speak about how your team had dangerous levels of co-dependency and how that was indicative of a larger problem at NCIS.  Surely everyone in the room had noticed that his vibrant green eyes never left you throughout the whole briefing?  It wasn’t just you being paranoid, right?

“It is my personal recommendation that the entire NCIS team be demoted to probationary status.”  He concluded.

The room went deathly silent.

“I beg your pardon, young man?”

“I did not make this decision lightly.  Out of all the options, I consider this to be the best one.”

Tony coughed repeatedly.  His coughs sounded a lot like he was swearing in Italian.  Ziva examined Sterling with narrowed eyes and a calculating glare.

“I’m sure that we will regain our status as full NCIS agents by working for you in your latest case.”  She announced shrewdly.

The fact that Sterling gave no answer confirmed her words to be true and you felt your blood thundering through your veins at the thought of yet another person manipulating you and your team to achieve their own ends.

“NO WAY IN HELL AM I GOING TO LIE DOWN AND ACCEPT THIS!”

You stood up from your chair, drawing everyone’s attention to you and you unclipped your badge and unholstered your gun.

“Consider this my answer.”  You set your badge and gun down firmly on the table.

Tim and Tony stood up at the same time.  They too placed their guns and shields on the desk, “Good luck accessing the network.”  Tim grinned toothily.

“Connections go a long way when it comes to solving cases.  I wonder how well you will do without mine.”

“No, Tony.  I’m sure that Agent Sterling’s team will encounter no dramas solving cases since they have their own reputable sources.”  Ziva imitated your actions.

Ducky placed his hat on his head, “I have no doubt that you have a qualified ME team on standby.”

“Count me out too.”  Palmer stated.

Bishop and Torres placed their guns and shields down, “I guess we got lucky with the SVU squad.”  Bishop remarked, “There doesn’t seem to be a lot of inter-agency cooperation in this field.”

Unless your eyes were deceiving you, Doctor Chilton’s professional exterior had cracked and he was now panicking.  His gaze darted between Gibbs and Abby as they stood as well and back to you.  Clearly, he was attempting to predict their next moves.  But why was he so interested in you?

Abby pulled out a small, black device and pressed a button on it.  She tipped her head to the side and regarded Sterling with an innocent look, “I hope you brought your own machines with you.  The NCIS ones are no longer online.”

“You’re obstructing an investigation!” One of the agents guarding the door cried, pulling your attention to him as he reached to his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  He started towards you but Gibbs obstructed his path by stepping in front of you and causing him to fumble the handcuffs.

“Try it.”  Your boss’ voice was low. 

The agent swallowed nervously and peered around Gibbs to look at Sterling to determine what his response should be.

“I can detain you here for obstructing my investigation.  You of all people should understand the importance of solving cases.”

“We’re not NCIS agents anymore.”  You retorted.  “We’re civilians who have no knowledge of your case.  If had you provided details of the case and explained why you needed us and our machines and then we resigned, knowing that information, it would be a different story.  But you didn’t.  So we’re not discussing that.”

No one commented on the wry chuckle that escaped your boss.

Taking his cue from you, Tim spoke, “Seeing as our presence is no longer needed here, I suggest we leave the building and enjoy the rest of our day.  It’s so beautiful outside and we really don’t get to experience days like this very much.”

“I am inclined to agree with you, Tim.”  Tony commented theatrically and after a pointed look from your boss, the Interpol agent who had tried to handcuff you quickly hopped out of Gibbs’ path.  Your team trooped towards the door.

Evidently, Ziva couldn’t resist leaving without firing a parting shot, “All the best with your current investigation, Agent Sterling.”  She called over her shoulder.  Before anyone could reply, she grabbed the handle and pulled the door closed, separating your team from the people on the other side.

Tony held up the key to the conference room, “When should we tell them that while the door opens from the inside, it locks from the outside?”

“Never sounds good to me,”  Gibbs replied.