#the answer is partly I forgot.

[void-botanist]

Thinking about the world that starts to take shape around Tirias's refusal to travel outside of majority-rooted areas. There's an implication that she has been there and got burned so bad that she'll never go back. She can hear but she can't speak and communicates primarily through sign language. Despite the fact that most other species do learn Osbok sign language in school, there's a much stronger culture of sign language usage in rooted areas than beyond them. You travel through the Forests, you know you'll be taken care of and taken seriously. You step outside of them, who knows what'll happen. Humans are already intimidated by her height, and asking them to use their half-remembered SOSL is apparently a step too far.

Oh, to be Ysa, even more intimidating but somehow able to put people at ease with just thons voice.

Which makes me wonder: is there a fear among human societies that the culture of the Forests - which itself is not homogenous - will take over the rest of the world? There must be on some level but it has to be harder for it to coalesce because there's an enormous population of roots that live outside of the forests, and have for pretty much ever, and nothing has happened to "human" cultures except that a lot of them also have roots participating in them, not to mention nawwenn. Some people think they're playing the long game - they live twice as long as humans, you know - but I would suspect your average human knows enough roots to reject that particular conspiracy.

So then, out of all the other species in Winchester, why has Dez only met humans?

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[euthymiya]

and what if i abandon my 2 wips that have 0 progress for a scar fic. what then

[babybvg]

younger me was so naive I just remembered when I found a fake nail in my man’s room (I had never worn fake nails) and when I asked him about it he was like “idk who’s that is it prob got stuck on my shoe while walking” and I was like “oh okay”

[lavenoon]

✨ >:3c

I have been answering these for over an hour now oh my god?? <- Just saw the time stamp on this ask hfdjsk

I think I'm really good at that complicated sibling dynamic - AU specific because it's the only fic relevant for this ask game (kinda), but despite all my jokes about godmodding the aumv (accidentally undercover multiverse) I like working with less than ideal circumstances. Where no one is at fault and things still suck, and they still have to try and put the work in themselves, because it's just not meant to be easy. Communication is hard, love is effort, and I like showing that! And, from the looks of it, I'm doing a decent enough job <3

[monstersflashlight]

how about a male kitsune x fem reader. Maybe they are childhood friends and he loves to tease her a lot and acts really cocky all the time but scares away any potencial rival. Unknown to them both their parents who are good family friends ,have been trying to set them up together partly due to the fact of some very old promise their ansestors made or something but won’t force it and see it as if it happens it happens. But male kitsune has a secret, his true form and accidentally shows the reader this while confessing but she reassures she doesn’t care how he looks (if anything she finds him quite handsome like this) and she likes him too. His secret form I guess could go two ways I’m not sure which sounds better 1: she never knew he was a kitsune, and them being childhood friends was really just her playing around with a baby fox that she thought belonged to his family. Or 2: she knew he was a kitsune all along but he has a 3rd form he never showed her this one looking more like a bipedal humanoid fox a form of which not even his family has thus being self conscious of. Thank you so much your writing is really cool!

A/N: Hi! This request was very fun to write, hope any of you mind that I mixed both, made sense in my head. Also, as a great mind said “daddy is a state of mind”, I imagine this story as them being very close in age, like max three years apart. Enjoy!

The nine tails

Kitsune x fem!reader || daddy kink, arranged marriage, mates,

When you thought back to your childhood, you always had blurry memories of an animal. A fox. A white fox that followed you around and played with you when you went out into the garden. Your parents thought you were talking about a plushie or something, but you knew better, there was an actual fox that approached you as soon as you stepped outside. But when you were about twelve, he disappeared.

It hurt you so bad and so profound that you cried for days. You cried and cried and your parents didn’t know what was wrong. Your neighbor came around, a nice lady that you’ve known all your life, the mother of your crush… She said it was a pain of heart, and also disappeared. It was ominous and weird, and it woke you off a stupor that you didn’t know you were into.

You woke up and kept living. Even when your friend, your crush, left, you kept going.

And kept going.

When past your twenties, your parents announced that you were to marry an unknown person, or not so unknown. When you walk to the altar and see your long forgotten childhood friend… you are lost of words. You are so confused you dissociate through all ceremony. Before you realize you were married and living with a man you thought forgot about you.

You are calling him husband and he’s calling you wife, and your life is boring. You came back to your house one day, a bit earlier than anticipated because you signed a big contract and you want to go out for dinner with your husband, even if you barely talk. But what awaits for you there is not what you expected.

There’s a white fox in your living room. A white fox that turns into a human, a very naked human in the form of your husband. You gape at him, speechless.

You turn around to leave when he stops you. “Wait! Hear me out, I…”

But then it clicks. “You are the fox,” you deadpan.

“What?” He’s as surprised as you.

“The fox from my memories. It’s you.” Everything starts making sense, why they left, what his mother said when you were a kid.

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

“Of course I do, it broke my heart when you disappeared. I was so sad my parents bought me a puppy.” He doesn’t answer, staring at you like you grew a new head. You look into his sad eyes and can’t hold back anymore: “Why did you leave me?” Your question is filled with sadness and disappointment, the wound that you thought forgotten is once again open and bleeding. You thought you could get over the fox leaving, probably something to do with nature, but knowing it was him… That it was him who abandoned you…

“I’m sorry. I- They told me I had to. I couldn’t keep visiting you because I could throw everything into the wind if my fox got too attracted to you. So I pulled away, but it pained me, it pained me so much I could barely transform for so long after I stopped seeing you. And then we moved away and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is broken as he explains, his words rushed as if he’s trying to convince you as much as he tries to convince himself.

And you get a new realization at that. “That’s why you came back? That’s why you married me? Not because they signed some papers when we were not even born?” You ask for confirmation.

“Of course not! I love you. Always have. Always will,” he tells you, eyes filled with tears and emotions showing in every twitch of his body. You stare at him, so moved by his words that you just stare. You stare for so long that he starts to squirm and moves to walk away, accepting your silence as a rejection.

But this time is you who stop him: “Then make love to me until I can’t walk anymore. Breed me until I can’t think of anything else. Fuck me until the sad memories disappear and I can only think of you inside of me,” you pronounce the filthy words as if your life depends on it. As if his body and his soul are what you crave more than air.

He chuckles, swallowing back his tears as he tells you: “You can’t say that and look at me directly, or this would end sooner than expected.” You look down at the same time as he does, seeing his dick twitching and growing hard in front of your eyes.

“Does me saying dirty things arouse you, daddy?” His groan is so loud and desperate that you have to bite back your own moan.

You throw your clothes off your body like a soul followed by death and stare at him, naked in all your glory, as his eyes flash in different colors and his ears morph into fox-like ones. And then you see his half form, his tails behind him, all nine of them swinging as he approaches you slowly, making you grin at him until you are chest to chest. He grabs you by the waist, holding you thigh as he lowers his head and kisses you in the most dominating way ever. Your knees give out under you, but he grabs your ass and pushes you up, inviting you to wrap them around his middle.

He gropes your ass as he grinds his dick up to your wet center. You keep whispering “daddy daddy daddy” as he rocks your body against his. He’s as desperate as you are, your kisses consuming, trying to get your love across his lips. Trying to show him all the longing and pain that he caused you, as he tries to kiss it away. It’s intoxicating and deep, so emotional and intense that you are breathless.

When he finally pushes his dick inside your dripping cunt, you shiver with the force of the sensation. He pushes your body against the wall, plastering himself against your front as he leaves your mouth to kiss your neck, leaving marks as he goes.

He fucks you against the wall, desperate, uncoordinated… and perfect. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant over and over, his dick hitting that special place inside of your pussy that makes you see stars.

You start to shake in his arms. “Are you going to come for daddy? Are you going to make a mess out of your pretty pussy for me?” You nod eagerly, biting his neck and making him cry out as the first shoot of cum hit you deep inside, hot as lava.

You groan as your own orgasm rocks your body, convulsing against his arms as his tails caress your legs like the softest touch. It drives you to a new level, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks you through your aftershocks. He breathes hard against your neck, biting softly with his long fangs.

“You are so good, such a good girl for daddy,” he keeps whispering soft things against your ear as you come down, breathing hard and blushing harder than ever. He kisses your sweaty forehead as he walks you to the bathroom, not letting you go as he runs you a bath.

[biteyoubiteme]

melon float

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: a picnic in the park is always fun with your boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!!! semipublic/public sex, oral (f!rec), no protection, creampie, breeding kink if you squint kinda, Yeonjun calls reader baby once or twice, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.9k

an: feedback is appreciated!! this is apart of my float event! check out the other members fics [float m.list]

[m.list]

Yeonjun had been so excited this morning, for over a week he had been planning your next date, picking out every detail. He had gotten up early to get all your food ready, making sure to keep you out of the kitchen to keep the surprise up. “you should get ready I have this handled, maybe you could wear that pretty white dress you just got,” so you complied dressing up and after he was ready you hopped into the car asking him to reveal where you were going.

“to eat out,” was all he gave you to work with, hand on your thigh as he drove.

when you got to the park you knew he was taking you on a picnic. The past couple of days were too unbearable to be outside in the sun but the forecast had shown a few days of cooler mornings with partly cloudy skies. the two of you had been locked up in your apartment sticking to waiting until it was late to go out even when it still felt hot without the sun. you had complained about the heat and not being able to really enjoy the summertime. Now he's gone and found the perfect spot for a picnic, a little secluded patch of grass, the hanging trees giving peaks of the little stream they rest next to. you can hear the twittering birds, and the rambel of water, all of it the perfect soundtrack to summer.

everything had started innocently enough, Yeonjun set up the blanket for the two of you and unpacked his little basket of prepped foods. he had taken the time to cut all the fruit up into cute little shapes, some of them rough around the edges but his clumsiness only ever made the effort so thoughtful. he set up all the little things around to make them look put together to take a photo. “smile,” his little happy grin behind the camera making you blush. “look at how pretty you are,” he flipped his phone towards you to look at, “I'm going to make it my lockscreen,”

“Wait, you can see my underwear in this photo,” you laugh, zooming in on your panties to prove your point. your legs had been up, knees closed as you leaned back on your hands showing your cute outfit. you hadn't noticed how your dress had slipped down your thigh, low enough to show the lacy fabric.

“My favorite ones too,” he states, “they look so good on you, even better off,” the little grin he has is wicked enough to know exactly where his mind is going.

“you can wait until we get home to give me flirty looks like that,”

“I really can’t do that at all,” he looks around at the empty space we are in, “No one really comes around here anyways and we are blocked by all the trees…”

even just the idea of doing anything out in public was a little bit hot to you. Yeonjun was fully into pda, he loved to show you off, hand in the back pocket of your jeans, making out at the club like you'll never get the chance to kiss again, nay excuses to put his hands on you to let people know you were his and his alone. he wasn't shy when it came to people watching the two of you, if you let him he would stick his hand up your skirt in the back of a cab so this wasn't so different for you two. so he didn’t even have to ask for you to know what he wanted now.

“you don’t think anyone will catch us?” you ask but you don’t need to answer because even if there was a possibility of getting caught Yeonjun wouldn't admit it outright but he wouldn't let the two of you go far enough without caution. you stand up and trying not to lift your dress too much you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down. Yeonjun is fast to lean over so that he can help take them off fully, balling them up and tossing them over to the basket half-open behind him.

he slides his hands up the back of your thighs, sitting criss cross in front of you looking up like he found everything he's been missing. he's grinning as he cups your ass, pulling you closer to him, chin on your thigh. “I thought those were your favorite?” you brush his hair behind his ears.

“On the list of my favorite things, they come second to what's standing in front of me. no need to admire them when I could admire you,”

you roll your eyes but even if he was cheesy it always got you. He was rubbing up and down the back of your legs, fingers slipping to your inner thighs making you shiver. every drag of his fingers getting closer and closer to your center. “you know what?”

“hum?” you hummed the tips of his fingers only just grazing over your folds.

“I think I’m starving,” he pulls you back down to the blanket, your laugh cut off by his kiss. hands moving to your waist, body pressing you into the blanket. when he pulls away he keeps his mouth on you, lips down your jaw, down your neck. “and I just happened to bring my favorite meal,”

he lays himself down between your legs lifting the hem of your skirt peeking under to see how wet you've gotten for him. Since you’ve gotten together it was so easy to get wet from a few kisses, for him to look at you the right way and he would just know if he reached down to check he could slip in without any prep.

“You said earlier we were going to eat out, not this,” you’re sitting up on your elbows watching and Yeonjun is giving you a cocky smile, tongue running along the inside of his lip as he shrugs. “You must have misheard me, I was trying to say I wanted to eat you out,” pushing your dress up and bunching it at your hips he leans down blowing over your clit, your knees pulling in at the cool air.

“don’t tease me,” you whine but you don’t expect him to listen, he was always a tease, drawing out your pleasure like it was a test he knew he would pass with flying colors. but there was no time when someone could walk by secluded as the spot was or not Yeonjun didn’t need anyone else to see you falling apart on his tongue namely because he didn’t want to be interrupted. he licked up your wetness, circling your clit before giving precise controlled flicks of his tongue. your head rolls back and you bite your lip to keep quiet only it's harder than you thought when he starts to suck on your clit.

your knees try to pull together and he has to push them back apart, ravaging your cunt, swirling his tongue over and over. He had full control over your body pulling your orgasm from you slowly until you were combusting. hips sinking, hands fisting the blanket, your moans were not silent anymore as you fluttered around nothing, Yeonjun pulling away to let you calm down from your high. but you didn’t feel satiated, not when you felt so empty, it was almost painful. “please jjunie,” you whined sitting up.

“hum? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed,” knowing exactly what you wanted. he was hard as he sat up, unbuttoning his jeans, “come here,”

you didn’t need to be told twice, crawling over to him before straddling his waist, sensitive clit rubbing over his bulge making the both of you moan. you didn’t even hold yourself back as you started to grind down on him, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers tangling into his hair. He grabbed your waist trying to still you, “Hold on baby I won't last like that,” he pulled his cock free from his last layer of fabric. you were already clenching at the sight, watching as he gave two slow pumps, thumb running over the tip collecting his precum to spread around the veiny shaft.

you sat up on your knees lifting as he used one hand to guide himself in and the other to hold your dress up. your soft whine turned into a throaty moan as he sank into you, slow to inch as he stretched you open. when you were fully seated the both of you caught your breath, your dress falling from his hands before he pushed your hair away from your face. “you’re so pretty when you sit so well on my cock,” he could feel you pulse around him at his praise, gummy walls warm enough to make him weak. he pulls you in for a kiss on hand at the base of your neck, the other on your hip helping you rock forward on him.

finding a rhyme the both of you melt together, your drawn-out movements deepening your kiss. pressed so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your throat, every movement brushing him against your g-spot, knees weak from the feeling. tugging on your hair he leans your head back to expose more of your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and to your exposed cleavage he nips over your skin.

you can feel your second orgasm build aided by the way your clit is rubbing against him but you’re restless, needing more than every slow drag. “I want more,” you breathe trying to pick up the pace but failing to when you’re this close, “please I need more,”

he doesn't even pull out as he flips the two of you, pushing you down on your back and wrapping his arms around you before he starts to pick up the pace on his thrusts. “better baby?”

you can’t even speak as he frantically pumps into you, hips knocking into yours. his mouth at your ear he's moaning, “You feel so good- fuck- I'm gonna fill you up- I-“ he cut himself off on a whimper, “I wanna fill you up so bad, I can’t take it, I need to please,” he presses his face into your neck as he begs. “please,”

he twitched inside you, thrusts turning sloppy as you wrap your legs around his waist. his soft mewls sending you over the edge, your back arching as you came, dots forming in your vision. you’re clenching so much that he can hardly move anymore, hips pressed flush against yours as he stills, warm cum filling you.

Yeonjun pressed a messy kiss to your lips, going back to his slow thrusts to feel how slick you were with both of your cum. every other thrust he pressed into your womb feeling the way your pussy fluttered for him. He gave a lazy smile into your kiss before pulling out. you gave a shaky breath from the loss, your legs falling from around his waist as he leaned back to look at the mess he had made of you. “my pretty girl looking her absolute best,” you could feel the cum slipping out of you and he scooped it up with his thumb to push it back in, “stuffed full of my cum just as she should be,”

[goldsainz]

❝ IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . art donaldson x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . smut (riding, protected sex), cheating, reader’s kinda delusional, toxic behaviour, not proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . all it takes is a text and a lonely hotel room.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . first art fic i am beyond excited 🤭 many more to come and my requests are open so if you have any ideas feel free to leave them in my inbox!!!!!! forgot how fun writing smut was, kinda crazy to have my first art fic be smut but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless 💙

[ word count: 1,7k ]

You know it is wrong to long for Art Donaldson. To not have moved on, but your life is incomplete without him. You tried to find someone else, someone who can compare to him, yet there is no one like him.

He’s not yours, no, in fact he’s married now. He has managed to move on from you, he has created a life for himself and he doesn't need you. Not like you need him, anyway.

You tune in for his matches, watch him beat his opponents and then run to his beautiful wife to celebrate. They actually looked good together, seemed like a proper couple and were the perfect faces of tennis. You could not be that for Art, you're too much of a mess to even dare to be as idyllic as Tashi Duncan.

Maybe that's why it feels so good that he’s currently under you, that it's your name he's moaning and your kisses he’s searching for. Maybe that’s the reason why you feel so unbothered by wrecking a home, because if he cheats, is there even much of a home to begin with? You don't think so. 

He’s like a vice you cannot seem to quit. Even when you first broke up, it took less than two days for him to hit you up and for you to be outside his house. Nobody knows you like Art, and nobody knows Art like you. You wonder if his wife is aware of how much he dreams of you, that when he’s with her, he’s thinking about you.

All it takes is for one of you to reach out, and you both throw all dignity out the window. The measly barriers you both created collapse in a second, no words need to be said to know what the other wants. It is quite simple between you two, perhaps in a way that is too carnal and not emotional enough. 

That is why, for some reason you don’t care enough to think about, he’s in your hotel room. 

You’re in New York City, alone in a hotel room that feels too big for just one person. You tried to go to a bar, tried to mingle with people in hopes of making your life less lonely. For just one night, at least.

It is not intentional that Art is also in New York, in fact, you’ve tried to steer clear of him and his overbearing presence in your life. It has been months since your last conversation, which consisted of him saying “Happy birthday” and you answering “Thanks”. 

You go back to your hotel room after your attempts at not being alone fail miserably. It is partly your fault, because you always end up in the same vicious cycle of comparing the men you meet to Art. No one can compare to him, and you damn your heart for taking over and not letting you have some enjoyment. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You consider going to sleep, but something inside you tells you to stay awake and you receive your answer in the form of an imessage notification.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Hey, I heard you’re in NYC.

You

Yeah.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Wanna meet up?

You

Why?

Art (Do NOT contact)

Don’t know. 

Just missed you.

You

You can’t just say that.

Art (Do NOT contact)

I know. 

Are you free right now?

You

It’s 11pm, Art.

Art (Do NOT contact)

So? 

Send me your location.

You

[Location] 

Room 904.

Art (Do NOT contact)

Be there in 20. 

You’re thrust back into reality when he moves beneath you, hitting a spot that makes you arch your back and has you mewling. Guilt doesn’t even make its way through your mind, if anything, the scandalous nature of what you’re doing makes you wetter than you care to admit. 

Art looks up at you like you’re a goddess, a siren that he fell prey to, his eyes shine when he takes in the sight above him. Your tits are bouncing in front of his face, and he has to resist the urge to attach his mouth to one of them, but he’s too concentrated on the faces you make. 

You whine when he grabs your hips and moves you up and down quicker than before. Your hands are planted on his chest, grabbing onto whatever semblance of support you can get. You know how much he likes for you to be on top, loves it when you take control but today he’s antsier and needs to take some control back. So, he settles for tightly gripping your hips and deciding the pace of your movements.

You lean down and connect your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy, teeths clashing and your mouths open to let out a moan when the other does something that makes your toes curl. 

“Please,” he breathes out against your mouth, “Please, let me come.”

“Do you deserve it?” you ask, rearing back to look at him but you don't slow your movements either. 

“Yes, yes I do,” he pants, brows furrowing when he feels the heat in his core bubbling up.

“Only if I come first,” you say, taking one of his hands and placing it on your sensitive nub. 

Art moans at your response and his moves are hasty, rubbing you like his life depends on it. You let out short breaths at his touch, the heat inside you creeping up and ready to set off like fireworks.

He looks at your blissed out expression, how your bottom lip is between your teeth in an attempt to conceal the beautiful sounds you make. He’s tempted to use the other hand that’s on your hip to take your lip away from your teeth, but his thoughts are cut short when you clench tightly around him.

“I’m close, Art,” The blonde doesnt need to hear you say it, he knows your body like the back of his hand. 

It is no surprise when you come around him, a high-pitched moan escapes your mouth when your body shakes from pleasure. Like clockwork, Art spills inside his condom almost instantly after your release washes over you. 

He gives a few sloppy thrusts after he comes, feeling you collapse onto his chest, tired out from your orgasm. Art kisses the side of your head, heavily breathing and trying to form a coherent thought. Though it is quite hard when he is so fucked out. 

You separate yourself from his chest and press another kiss to his lips. Relishing on the closeness between you, he places his hand on the nape of your neck and keeps you in place.

After a few seconds he slips himself out of you. You whine at the loss of the fullness you felt, but he quickly shushes you with a simple kiss. It’s softer this time, sweeter than you deserve and more romantic than you’d like. 

You remove yourself from being on top of him, and lay down beside him. The pillow is soft and comforting, you keep your gaze trained on the ceiling and try to calm your harsh breathing down. You hear the rustle of the bed sheets and then feel yourself being covered by them, the soft touch of Art’s hand when he handles the sheets and brushes his knuckles against your chest makes you shiver

“This was fun,” he lets out, like he just got off an amusement park attraction. 

You can only hum in response, slightly turning your head to look at him. That is your mistake, because once you take in his beauty you cannot stop doing so. It makes you want to do things you shouldn’t, say things that would ruin whatever’s going on between you two.

“How long are you staying here for?” the question takes you aback, do you want him to know you schedule? A small part of you, the rational one, tells you to lie and put this little rendezvous behind you. But the part that makes most of the decision, the one that you damn each day, makes you tell him the truth.

“Until friday,” you respond, playing with the corner of the bedsheets between your fingers.

“Okay, cool,” he says back, it’s tuesday and that leaves you with just a couple days to see the other. How badly you wish that this wasn't what your relationship was now, but you have to make do with what you have. At least until you're pulled back into reality. 

You’re not sure why but the idea of him seeking you out once more, feels your tummy with a fuzzy feeling akin to butterflies.

“Yeah,”

Time seems to stand still for a few minutes, with his hands behind his head and yours resting just below your chest. It’s as if neither of you want to break the moment that’s happening, one that has a close expiration date.

After a moment of quiet, he finally breaks the silence, “I’m glad I’m here,”

You don't know how to respond so you settle for a simple, “Me too,”

For a moment, you both just look at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. It's a fleeting connection, intense yet fragile, and you know that despite it neither of you belong to the other.

“I should get going,” he tells you, sitting up from his laid down position in bed and searching for his sprawled around clothes.

“Sure,” you answer as you watch him clothe himself, intently keeping your eyes trained on his figure.

“I’ll text you,” he says when he’s done clothing himself, “We could hang out again,”

“Okay,”

He looks at you once more, and you swear you see him hesitate when he reaches for the door handle. Something inside you aches for him to kiss you goodbye, to give you that intimacy that youre no longer privy to.

But as quick as that thought crosses your mind, he’s out the door.

Art doesn't text you as he said he would. You want to be mad at him, but you know you’ll be waiting for the day he messages you, and you can tally another clandestine meeting to your board. After all, you belong eternally to him and he to you. 

[inconspicious-random-thoughts]

Edit a bit because I forgot a small part.

So I have a small minor theory. Most is already fan based. So look at his picture. Vox looked near mortified at the reveal. To me, it appears more of embarrassment of past actions of admitting feelings to someone who didn't return them suddenly revealed to a new audience in modern day.

Some fans already believed Vox has a strong one sided crush on Alastor which partly fuel his rivery.

Vox died a few decades after Alastor, Alastor was probably very well established in Hell when Vox landed. Both being media themed demons, Vox more then likely became inspired by Alastor and was his biggest fan, also crushing on him. Vox wanted to make himself worthy to catch Alastor eyes and so, he pursued and ascended to become an overlord.

Eventually he did, they were not exactly on equal ground, but close enough. They both appear at the Overlord meetings. May have some brief interactions. Alastor probably still jabbed at Vox early on, simply because Alastor dislike modern technology. The jabbing not necessarily vicious but still making fun of Vox, nonetheless, but Vox took it in stride and probably retorted his own witty comebacks. Which I assume Alastor appreciates because its entertaining even if its mildly so. But it made the meetings not a complete bore. Vox thrilled because Alastor did notice him and seem to enjoy (entertained) by his company, even causing the Radio demon to laugh.

Finally, Vox took the courage and asked Alastor out. Asexual Alastor misinterpreted it as a business proposition. Romantic interpretations are not his first impressions in thought when presented. The answer would still be no but probably with A LOT less mocking. Alastor seem to just simply say no when relations is presented to him. For example, Angel Dust making comments and Alastor does a quick laugh and say no. Nothing more. I imagine he answers similar to nearly every encounter of this type. He a gentleman after all, he not going to ridicule someone for having feelings for Alastor that Alastor is not interested in returning.

So when Vox, most likely after an Overlord meeting, asked Alastor out. (We should get together and...) Alastor mocked Vox hard to the point of ridicule. Why would lone wolf radio demon want to team up with a sub par media demon? I assumed Vox already partner with Valentino at this point (he ask me to join his team, imply Vox already had a team at this point. Velvette may not been around at the time, she is the youngest). I think Alastor would hate Valentino and everything he stands for. Even if Alastor was interested in more power which he isn't, he doesn't care about being an overlord-he just want to be entertained, he would HATE working and being in the same proximity of Valentino. Alastor was probably a little merciless on his decline.

Of course, Alastor said it in a way that Vox interpate that it still personal level not a business one. This whole conversation was missinuperted by both of them. Vox was beyond humiliated. Truly starting a rivery to prove Alastor he is better. That Alastor is wrong, Vox media is superior, that Vox himself is superior and trying to turn the tables as he recover from his embarrassment. What worse, despite it all, Vox still craves Alastor attention, to be respected and perhaps thought of fondly. Which infuriates Vox more that he simply can't hate him like he wants to but still admires Alastor.

Side bit, I think Vox and Valentino do have a small thing going. (He also seemed a bit excited thinking Angel quit, and annoyed to see him around). Both of them enjoy each other company but their hearts not in it. (I also think Vox is also a bit of a victim to Valentino poison", that would be super interesting!) But I think a small part of Vox holds a secret grudge against Valentino. He thinks Valentino is part of the problem why Alastor rejected him. Because Alastor during his ridicule decline of his invitation mention Vox was with Valentino and Alastor wanted no part of that. Alastor strolled off, leaving a stammering speechless Vox, to taken aback to clarify Valentino was just a business partner. I only mention this because, Vox seem to have a comfortable relationship with Valentino. They have a bit of history (hinted by the photo of the two together and Vox having a crt tv head) to gain enough trust, know each other to know what makes them tick and desires. But Vox also seem put off and near reluctant to have to calm down his "boy toy" (as Velvette put it). Tolerating enough to remain levelhead, but clearly tired of Valentino tantum shit.

[mummer]

just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!

answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****

i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!

the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh

[xo-cod]

"you don't trust me like i trust you"

the words echoed from his lips as he let out a soft resigned sigh, his face knitted in the same frowning pensive look he usually gave to his team when they were receiving bad news. it was odd being on the receiving end of it as you watch your husband lean against the counter tops. his black jacket discarded on top of the couch, revealing the compression top he had worn underneath highlighting his bulging muscles and broad frame

"what do you mean?" your voice was next, raising your brow as you look at him. but there's no lightheartedness about him tonight, he looks defeated and you couldn't help feeling guilty. your stomach in knots for being partly responsible as he brushes himself slightly trying to organise his thoughts.

"tonight. with your parents. you just froze up when they asked about me, what was that?" he asked again, his tone confused and hurt as he tried to understand your point of view. the night had consisted of a dinner with your parents and while you loved price with all your heart, you knew it would be difficult to explain your backstory with him. his true nature, his job.

so you chose to omit a few details but none of that had escaped price's watchful gaze. he kept his mouth shut, swallowing down the words that desperately wanted to be said with a forced smile as he watched you answer for him. every false thing to avoid the truth twisted the knife that much more until he excused himself early to the car, muttering some excuse as he left the place gulping down air that didn't seem to fully reach his lungs.

until now, back at home where he couldn't take another word and confronted you hoping you'd prove him wrong. but every second that ticks by and the dread only continued to grow.

"it's been a long night" you spoke back, your tone a warning not to delve into the matter tonight as you tried to side step him but he stands in the way. his brow furrowed as he looked down at you refusing to let it go, challenging you back as he stood there.

"it bloody well has been. which is why i need you to explain exactly what the hell that dinner was" his voice is sharp, a command as he looks at you expectantly his form tense. he looked angry and it only caused your temper to rise as you tried to move away, hoping not to escalate the situation.

"you're embarassed of me, aren't you?" the words were cold, harsh as he eyed your movements carefully. he knew you well, he knew your moods having been married to you for three years. he took pride in that, having knowing you better than himself.

you froze at the words, quickly trying to compose yourself but even that was a second too long as his eyes darkened. shock on his face. confirmation, resignation on yours

you almost hated how well he read you and in this moment, he shared the same notion.

"so what it is then, my work? me? what, aren't i good enough for your love anymore??" he snapped as he clenched his fists, taking a few steps forwards as his eyes narrowed in on your face. trying and hoping you'd tell him it was all in his head, that he was overanalysing everything. that there had to be a reasonable explanation for all this

he forgot, however, that sometimes not everything plans out the way he so desperately wished they would.

"no, maybe not! this whole thing was a mistake, this whole marriage is a joke" the words tumbled out of your lips before you had a chance to comprehend them and the realisation dawned on you when you see his face, his stoic demeanour cracking under your proverbial hammer. it made you instantly regret saying a thing, your breaths hard and fast as you stutter slightly. he almost deflates a little, his heart thundering under his chest but his face rests usually. almost like he had expected the disappointment to come naturally

"i see" it's the only sentence that leaves his lips, you can see the hurt swimming in his eyes practically threatening to drown you whole. you don't think in all the three years you've been married to john, see him in this state before. his muscles tense and rigid, rooted to the spot looking you over before his gaze falls to the floor. unsure of what to even say, what could he say to that anyway? his wife, his love, proving to him that he was his worst fear. that he was a burden, you simply couldn't get rid of.

price felt a stabbing pain in his chest as if on cue reminding him of the pain he felt regularly whenever he missed you. even when you were there, standing right in front of him, he missed you. but it was clear you didn't feel the same and the realisation only hurt him that much more. who knew people could carry this much pain with them? surviving a war seemed much easier than this

his arms closed around his chest, partly for comfort and self soothe. partly to keep him from falling into the dark abyss that threatened to overtake him, to keep you out even though you were so deeply intertwined with his very soul it would be impossible to completely remove you without taking a huge part of him

"i know what they say, i've heard it before. i know have a bad past, i know my job is unconventional" he starts as his adam apple bobbs in his throat, brows creased as he speaks

"but i didn't think the first person i've ever had a true and honest connection with, would give me hell on top of that. i thought you would've seen more to me than that. you're my wife for christ's sake, my best friend..... i need time. i need space" it almost pains him to say the words as much as it hurts you to hear them. his voice was was soft, low, and almost like a plea. he rarely ever sounded like that. he seemed tired, broken, and fragile standing before your eyes. hardly the formidable strong captain everyone knew him to be. it only pains you that much more when you see the true extent of the damage your words have done.

who knew it took five minutes to completely shatter three years of marriage just like that

it's the only thing he offers you for the night as he turns his back, settling on the couch. you know it won't be comfortable for him, his muscles already look cramped but he's made his mind. he doesn't even have to be angry, to be fuming as he should've been. he didn't get the urge to throw himself into a workout and lift the weights until the familiar burn settled into his bones whenever he worked himself too hard. to punch the lights out of the hanging bag until he felt his knuckles cramp and ache.

no, tonight he felt inexplicably sad. as if the person he thought you were deep down had completely obliterated into pieces, your words had been like bullets hurting him more than anything physical could've done. maybe he didn't know you as well as he thought and that made him feel worse, trying to bury it all deep down to get some rest for the night. deep down knowing he would hardly find some relief to soothe the ache deep down in him.

a soft sigh passes your lips, every ounce of your heart throbbing to hold him one more time. to touch his skin, to feel his comfort, to feel those strong arms pull you to the safety of his chest his heartbeat a soft hum under his chest.

but tonight you've lost that privilege and you walk away, resigning to a room filled with loneliness and despair without your other half to keep you company. your hand strokes his empty side, missing the way his warmth would seep into your skin while he cradled you close to his chest. his nose buried in your neck, nuzzling your skin.

you loved it all, now you missed it terribly.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Lex Luthor unaware who Batman is and regrets it.

Lex, on a tv screen: Batman, show yourself or this brat will die!

Lex pulls back the curtain and Damian Wayne (dressed in his Robin suit) is tied up, hanging up over a vet of Joker liquid.

Robin: Hey.

Batman: Is that my fucking son?!

Oracle: Batman, relax.

Lex: What will happen when he falls in the Joker vat? Not great things I imagine. God, I'm so evil!

Batman: Joker... Joker... Joker...

Batman laughs stoically and then grows into a cackle.

Oracle: Okay you're enraged. I get it, but you have to remain calm.

Batman: He's got my youngest son over a vat of Joker toxin.

Oracle pulls out her earpiece from the usually monotone friend screaming in her ear.

Oracle: I found the room, go there and be calm.

Batman: Calm? Calm. I am calm. I am calm.

Batman runs down the hall repeating that mantra.

Lex: Your choice, Batman. I'll do five minutes. Yeah... Yeah I'm fair like that.

Robin, uninterested: Shoot, I forgot to finish my essay for class. Eh, I'll do the rest before class.

Robin yawns.

Lex: Could you be a little scared?!

Robin, yawning again: Nope. He's not going to be kind to you. I hope you have good insurance.

Oracle: Batman, when you go in there- Why did his comm go off? Oh... Oh shit.

Batman kicks in the door. The viewers can't see him off camera.

Robin: Hi, Batman.

Batman sees his son over the vat and the calmness disappears. Only filled with heavy angry breathing.

Oracle, acting fast: Okay working on cutting off the feed.

Robin: Yeah... You fricked up.

Lex: Oh please, he won't do anything-

Camera feed cuts out as Batman rushes to the man. The rest is only what Damian sees partly before closing his eyes.

Nightwing and Red Hood watching from another room they're trapped in.

Nightwing: Probably for the best she cut the feed.

Red Hood, proud: He's awesome when he gets like that.

The vent at the top of the room they're in opens and Red Robin falls into the room.

Red Robin: All right did I get- Damn it!

Nightwing: We might as well wait for him.

Three minutes later, Oracle's phone rings. the number is unknown, but she answers it.

Oracle: Yes?

Superman: Do I... Does he need me there?

Oracle: No. No, I can see the footage and he's good. Lex is down and bleeding.

Superman: That's my best buddy. Tell him thanks.

Oracle: Totally.

She ends the call and taps her finger on her desk.

Oracle: How did he even get my number?! One thing at a time girl.

[coffeebanana]

It's the expression on Adrien's face--the absolute shock that plays over his features as he's hoisted feet-first off the ground--that tells Ladybug she fucked up. But by then it's too late to change course. He's already hanging upside down in the alley, blinking slowly as her yo-yo string twists him slowly around to face her.

They lock eyes, and for a moment her heart drops. This is it. This is where he realizes what a mess she is, that he should want nothing to do with her. But then...

He bursts out laughing. Outright cackling, really--hard enough that his cheeks turn as red as her suit.

Or maybe that's just gravity making the blood rush to his head.

"This isnt--hahaha-- exactly what I meant," he chokes out.

Shame prickles the back of her neck. "I'm sorry! You said spiderman kiss, and...and...I panicked! It's been so long since I've seen that movie, and I forgot who was supposed to be hanging, and--"

He cuts her off with more laughter, and her mood shifts from anxiety--clearly, he isn't mad--to indignation.

"It's not that funny," she grumbles. Even though she's mostly just upset at herself for ruining the moment.

She's not even sure he hears her that time, but by the time he twists around to face her again, taking in her glower and the way her arms are crossed across her chest, his expression softens.

"Ladybug?"

She narrows her eyes slightly in lieu of answering, and his lips quirk up--well, down--again.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks.

Oh.

It's obvious what he means--even without the way he puckers his lips somewhat obnoxiously. But he's earned a little teasing before he gets what he wants.

"I guess I could let you down," she muses, unable to hide a smirk of her own as she lets the yo-yo go slack for a moment.

She's perfectly in control the whole time, having calculated the exact distance she needs to let him fall to bring his lips level with hers. But he doesn't need to know that, and she can't help but giggle when he yelps in alarm right before she pulls the string taut.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Did you think I'd let you fall?"

He shakes his head fiercely--which makes him bob comically from side to side. His grin's already widening again. "Never. But it wouldn't be the first time I fell for you..."

She huffs at him--partly in exhasperation, but mostly to try and hide the way that even when he's joking it turns her insides to mush. Still, she can't stay away much longer.

Just as his eyes are about to spin out of her sight again, she stops him. One of her hands cups his cheek while the other holds tight to her yo-yo string; she certainly doesn't want to drop him now.

She leans in slowly, stopping mere centimetres from his lips. "I think this is kind of fitting, actually."

He visibly swallows. "How so?"

"Because...you're kind of my hero."

His squeak of surprise vibrates against her mouth, tasting of chocolate and glee. She wastes no time before exploring what other sounds she can tease out of him.

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

[dontbelasagnax]

Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 71

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 4K

Masterlist

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Sunday, March 20th; 8:30 AM - At Lucy's place.  

I sigh softly as I notice the daylight filling the room. I already know I won’t be able to fall back asleep, even though I’ve barely woken up. I want to move, but I’m quickly stopped by a strong arm wrapped around me. I smile as lips press against my collarbone. Looks like I’m not the only one awake... Not surprising, knowing the woman behind me.

"We forgot to close the shutters," Lucy murmurs.

I chuckle softly at this, which seemed obvious to me. Lucy groans, tightening her hold around me. I understand she’s stretching before slipping her leg between mine. The feeling of our skin touching brings me immense comfort. A sigh of contentment escapes me.

"Good morning," I finally respond.

"Hey," she laughs. "Sorry, I forgot my manners."

I tilt my head back to look at her, and she takes the opportunity to capture my lips. I smile at her and eventually lie on my back so I can see her without straining. Lucy stays on her side, smiling in return as she watches me.

"Are you okay? How do you feel?" she asks.

"Incredibly good," I reply with a knowing smile.

She laughs again, gently running her fingers through my hair. I don’t need to ask her the same question in return. It’s obvious she’s doing well too. Her face glows with happiness. As for me, I struggle to look at her as I adjust to the light, but I force my eyes to stay open so I don’t miss this view. I feel tired but so content at the same time. It’s hard to put into words. The important thing is, I feel good. I finally got over the hurdle, and I was happy about it.

"What time is it?"

"Certainly early for you," she smiles. "Eight thirty."

I groan, snuggling against her. She teases me, but I don’t mind. It’s definitely too early for me. I would’ve loved to enjoy a little more sleep. Even one more hour would’ve been perfect. Lucy kisses my forehead, holding me tight. Well, at least I can savor this moment since Lucy doesn’t seem inclined to get up. I completely relax, lying on top of her. She continues to cradle me in her arms. We stay like this for a while before she suggests:

"I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?"

The question caught me off guard at first, but the answer was obvious. We had nothing to hide from each other anymore, given the night we had.

"Yeah, I’d love to, if you’re up for it."

I lift my head, smiling when I see Lucy’s expression. She didn’t expect that answer, it seems. Yet, that’s how we ended up under the warm water. We washed each other’s bodies as if we hadn’t already explored them enough the night before. It was the most intimate experience I’ve ever had with someone, but I loved it. Especially with Lucy. I have no doubt we’ll do it more often from now on.  

We finally made our way to the kitchen, me wearing Lucy’s t-shirt and my joggers. I wanted to feel her presence on me everywhere now. Our hair was still slightly wet, but we didn’t care. Lucy put the cake batter we prepared last night in the fridge while preheating the oven. She then started making scrambled eggs with bacon while I set the table with our drinks: coffee for Lucy and orange juice for me. My stomach growled once I finished, making my girlfriend laugh.

"Are you hungry, perhaps?"

"Just a little," I admit, blushing.

"It’ll be ready soon."

"When do we need to head to the gym?"

"Oh, you’re already getting into it?" she asks with a teasing smile.

"Well, it was kind of fun yesterday," I reply shyly.

"We don’t have a set time. I thought we could go around 10:30, after breakfast and getting ready."

I nod. I’m eager to go, but at the same time, I don’t want to break the bubble we’ve created between us. We’re in a completely serene atmosphere that I’m not ready to let go of. Still, I want to support my girlfriend’s project. It’s partly my duty, but also, I’ve grown to love spending time with our friends now that I know them better.

"Alright, I’ll put the cake in the oven, and we can eat."

She takes care of that while I serve what she just prepared to speed things up. Lucy insists on bringing the cake. After everything that’s happened, I hope it at least turns out well. Given what she managed to create, it should be.

Sunday, March 20th; 1:30 PM - At the gym.

I feel uncomfortable. Alexia is making me uncomfortable. The boys are working in the locker room while Lucy left us to throw away our McDonald’s bags from lunch. We’re not talking, but the air is thick with unspoken words and her teasing smile. Alexia isn’t fooled. When your friend is covered in hickeys and happiness radiates between her and her girlfriend, there aren’t many options. Lucy wasn’t discreet. At least I marked her in places hidden by clothes. That’s far from the case for me. My neck was a violet mess. For once, I wish Alexia would say something instead of silently teasing me, but that doesn’t seem to be her intention. After a while, I turn to her, abandoning today’s task of tearing off the old wallpaper from the break room now that all the furniture has been removed.

"Are you going to talk?"

"About what?" she plays innocent. "It’s your turn to speak," she teases.

"True..." I mumble.

She bursts out laughing. Our friends had been making jokes all day, and I was getting tired of it. Lucy managed to ignore them, but I couldn’t. I was uncomfortable.

"There’s nothing to say. It’s your private life, but I’m just happy for you," she says with a knowing smile that makes me blush. "And if you want some advice—or rather, a few... Be less expressive next time, and maybe hide the marks better. It looks like Lucy’s a leech."

Now it’s my turn to laugh. I can’t argue with her. I’m marked all over. Mostly on my neck, but also on my chest, and even on my stomach and thighs. I thought I was seeing things this morning in the mirror, but I was too euphoric to mention it.

"Yeah, she went a bit wild... Anyway, thanks, Ale."

"Oh, it’s no big deal."

"And what about you? You seem a bit off, no?"

She takes a deep breath, shrugging.

"Alba’s been driving me nuts since last night. She’s bombarding me with messages... I think she expected me to stay over at Misa’s or something. Anyway, we had a bit of a fight."

"Oh... She hasn’t realized you’re seeing someone?"

"She knows. Well, we talked about it briefly, but I guess she didn’t realize it was this serious, or maybe she just doesn’t accept it."

"I think it’s the second one. Since she doesn’t know her and all, she’s probably worried seeing it’s so serious. You get what I mean?"

"Yeah, but still. She’s the complicated one. You’ve heard her. She still talks about Luna and Jenni as if it was something reckless. How do you think she’ll react when she finds out it was me?"

"Hopefully differently. I mean, you’re her sister, after all."

"Hmm... I doubt it... Anyway, things are tense between us now."

"Yeah... I can imagine."

I don’t add anything as I see Lucy returning.

"What happened to your efficiency from this morning?" she mockingly scolds us.

"We were waiting for you," I reply. "You didn’t think we wouldn’t save you some work, did you?"

I say that knowing full well she’s probably done the most work today.

"Oh yeah, no chance of you forgetting me," she replies with a mischievous smile.

I blush as she wraps her arms around me and kisses the tip of my nose. Since last night, she’s been giving me the impression that she’s even more in love than before. I didn’t think that was possible. One thing’s for sure, I no longer have any doubts about her feelings.

"Come on, let’s get to work. It’d be great if we could finish today," she says.

- How are the guys doing? Ale asks.

I appreciate the connections forming between them. Alexia is becoming increasingly comfortable with Lucy’s presence. They’re chatting much more, without any pressure. She’s understood that outside of school, she’s no longer the intimidating instructor. In fact, all my friends have pointed out that she’s softened since I’ve been around. It’s a good thing, in a way. At least she’s finally accepted her best friend’s girlfriend.

- They’re still working on the locker rooms, my girlfriend replies.

- How are they dealing with the plumbing? I ask.

- Everything is already in place, as it was already a locker room. Someone will come next week to check if everything is up to code and see if we need to adjust according to our plans, she explains.

- Oh, okay. What an organization! You really think of everything.

- We try, she says proudly.

I don’t know how they do it. I wouldn’t have been able to do what they’re achieving. They’re young, but they’re really not afraid of anything. The afternoon continues with good humor and music. Lucy has managed to disconnect me this weekend. I even start to feel down when the clock strikes ten. In a few hours, I’ll have to dive back into a much less pleasant atmosphere than this weekend. Lucy suggested ending the day with a meal at The United before heading back to school. I didn’t know that bar served food, but Lucy told me they offer quick dishes. Luckily, we prepared and took our bags this morning. Alexia didn’t, but it’s not a problem since the bar is near her apartment. When we arrive at the bar, I’m surprised by the crowd for a Sunday night. We must not be the only ones wanting to end the weekend quietly.

- Are you allowed to drink before your shift? I tease my girlfriend, who is taking her first sip of beer.

- Take care of your own drink, will you? I’m not “on duty” until tomorrow morning anyway, she retorts, making quotation marks with her fingers. You know, when I have to check your room?

I stick my tongue out at her and cross my arms, making our friends laugh. Lucy puts her arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek.

- You should have had one too, instead of sticking with your soda, Aitana mocks from the end of the table.

- Hey, don’t criticize my drink, you bunch of alcoholics.

Even Alexia had left me tonight, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t want any alcohol. It was seven o’clock when our burgers were served. Unfortunately, we couldn’t linger since we had to return to school within an hour. The meal was brief but effective. I was stuffed when leaving the bar. We followed Jenni to her place so Ale could get her stuff, and then we set off for a new week. I feel uneasy during the drive. Responsibilities will return tomorrow. Lucy spent her time stroking my thigh, as if she knew what I was thinking. It was pretty obvious given how silent I was. We arrive at school. Lucy drops us off at the street nearby so we can finish on foot. A final goodbye and a last kiss shared before watching her drive away. We finish on foot, dragging our bags with Ale. It’s late. I think it’s the first time I’m coming back to school so late.

- Are you okay? You seem... Disconnected.

Alexia couldn’t have described the situation better. I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

- I’m okay... I’m a bit worried about the upcoming tests, I admit only partially.

- You don’t care, she rolls her eyes. Well, I know they’ll assess our ability to understand a lesson, but it doesn’t mean failing will ruin your chances for the May exams.

- I’m afraid of not being ready, I confess. Lucy had to pull me away from my studies because I was becoming obsessed.

- I think she did a pretty good job...

I give her a nudge at her implication, and we burst into laughter. She’s not wrong. This weekend was exceptional, but will she manage to make the next ones just as great? It’s hard to say.

- It’s not funny.

- Come on, at least tell me one thing... Was it worth it?

I laugh again, shaking my head. I’m not sure if she’s joking, but my good mood makes me want to respond.

- Oh yes. She really knows what she’s doing.

We arrive at the reception where the woman tells us we’re almost late. She opens the doors for us and wishes us a good evening. We return the sentiment and continue down the hallway. After a while, Ale resumes the conversation.

- Really? Well, I’ve only known Jenni, so it’s hard to judge, she says with a slight blush.

- You’re lucky to have only known one person. I wish it were my case too... Feli only cared about her pleasure, so...

- I see... And if you had to compare Mapi and Lucy? Because, well, I suppose it’s down to those two now.

I smile and nod. I haven’t known anyone else besides those three.

- It would be Lucy.

- Even after a night? she laughs.

- It was... There are no words. Maybe I’m moving too fast, but it was truly powerful, intimate, and full of love. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy being with Mapi. I did, but it was really different.

I’m really glad to have Alexia in my life. I couldn’t talk about this with anyone else if she weren’t here. She listens and nods with a small smile.

- I understand you, and you’ve reassured me at the same time. The way you describe it, I feel like it’s us, Jenni, and me. You’re probably right in saying it depends on oneself and the person on the other side. I think you just need to find the right person for a good connection, and I believe we both have found that.

I smile at her response, but it fades quickly when I see Alba pacing in front of our dorm. Misa is with her, sitting on the steps, looking bored. Alexia’s words come back to me, and I sense trouble.

- Oh no, Ale whispers.

- Yeah, I see, I reply as we get closer.

We see Misa talking. She must have warned her of our arrival because she turns sharply towards us as soon as we approach.

- Finally! I was getting anxious, she yells as soon as we’re within earshot.

- What’s your problem? her sister replies with indifference.

- What’s my problem? she repeats. Did you see what time you’re arriving? I thought you wouldn’t come back!

- Calm down, we’re here now. There’s no need to make a fuss.

I try to defuse the situation, but I can see there’s no use. Alba is fuming. She goes into an endless monologue about how crazy her sister is. She thought she wouldn’t come back. Ale tries to respond at times, but she doesn’t have much luck. She accuses her of never telling her where she is or who she’s with, and for that, she’s not entirely wrong. She’s driving me crazy. It’s insane. She’s known for a long time that she’s with someone. There’s never been a problem before. She must have realized it’s serious now that it’s been going on for a while. I knew it was tense, but not to this extent. Alexia must have downplayed it when I asked her questions, it’s the only explanation.

- And what about you? Do I ask you where you are every time? Let me live a little.

- She was with me, relax, I try again to defend her.

I give up as she continues shouting, ignoring my comment. It’s really the word. I look at Misa, who has stood up. She seems just as alarmed as I am. The last thing we want is to get into trouble. I’m relieved when I finally see Lucy approaching us.

- Oh! What’s going on here!?

Her voice manages to overpower Alba’s, who stops immediately. She now looks like a deer caught in headlights, having been caught in the act.

- Do you want me to help you shout like this in front of the dorm!?

- It’s just that, I was worried about my sister, she responds.

- Oh, and that gives you the right to shout like this? Can you imagine if everyone acted like you? It’s past eight o’clock. You should be in your rooms by now! We’ll see if you’ll be so ambitious tomorrow morning when I deal with you.

- That won’t be necessary.

- I think I’m still the one making the decisions here! That wasn’t a question. You’ll be with me for the day, and we’ll sort this out in my office after classes, no exceptions.

The tender Lucy from this weekend is clearly gone tonight. Alba clenches her fists and grinds his teeth. I can see from my place that she’s holding back from responding.

If I were in her place, I wouldn’t do it; it could end badly. Without saying another word, she turns her back on her and slams the door as she goes into the dorm.

- I’ll go calm her down, Misa says.

With those words, she hurries to catch up with her before it’s too late. We remain silent after this unexpected attack until Lucy lets out a heavy sigh.

- Can I not leave you alone for even five minutes?

- Thanks, Alexia murmurs. I really don’t know what got into her...

- We’ll deal with this tomorrow. It’s time for you to head upstairs.

Alexia looks to me for support, but I know when it’s best to negotiate with Lucy. It’s certainly not the time now. Alba managed to irritate my girlfriend ahead of time, having to intervene tonight already.

- We’ll head up, I reply. Have a good night...

My words manage to relax her a bit. We exchange a small smile.

- Thanks... Sleep well too.

She turns around while we stay in place. Alexia turns to me when she’s at a safe distance so she can’t hear us.

- Why didn’t you say anything!? I don’t want to face Alba in her office! This whole thing doesn’t need to get back to Jenni!

- Calm down. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. It wasn’t the right moment to bring it up given her mood.

My roommate sighs heavily, running her hand across her face. I understand her situation, but talking about it tonight wouldn’t have helped.

- Let’s go upstairs. We’ll talk about it up there.

- No, it’s fine, she mumbles.

She heads in first without waiting for me. What a mood... No need to wait until tomorrow to get to the bottom of things. We reach our room together, but Alexia doesn’t wait to dive into the bathroom, where I hear the shower turn on. I understand she doesn’t want to discuss it further. I take this time to unpack my suitcase. At least that will be done. If our return starts like this, I don’t even want to imagine the week ahead. Well, at least one day will be off thanks to my outing, so there’s that. When Alexia emerges, I’ve just finished with my suitcase. I then take my turn to change and brush my teeth. There’s still half an hour before curfew, but the mood has definitely faded since. When I come out, I notice Alexia has started a series on her computer with her headphones on. Since she still doesn’t want to talk, I start reading a book I found in Lucy’s library. I was surprised to find a huge shelf full of books in her office. She told me I could help myself, so I did. I spend the rest of the evening reading and my mind is still agitated. I hope everything will be okay between Ale and Alba. The last thing I want is for them to not get along anymore. Alexia won’t admit it, but I don’t think she can live without her for long. They’re far too close for that. We all have secrets. Especially here, but it’s time for her to reveal hers.