#the hunger games has consumed my life

[solarduckarts]

it's amazing to think and remember how kind and gentle peeta and katniss's relationship is in comparison to snow and lucy gray

to think that snow only believed so deaply that katniss didn't love peeta even thou at every turn she was ready to give ger life for that boy, the boy she loved even if at that time she didn't know, the one who saved her life so many times without even knowing.

snow did not undertand that, a love so deep and profound one was willing to die for, he had people die for him, but he was not gonna die for anyone, not for his family, his only friend, not even for the girl he loved and saved his life.

he only saw everlark as a performance because he never saw love for what it really is, sacrifice, the act to sacrifice for someone else that means so much to you, snow only used it as way of manipulation and to hold power against others.

if he never had to sacrifice anything, then he lets others do it for him.

[genghisthebrain]

gale being the prim reaper is the most hilariously incorrect take I’ve ever heard in my life

[tleeaves]

Damn, I'm looking back at some of my fandom/media discussion posts from 2023 in particular on TSC and The Hunger Games, and wow. Past Me really cooked. Why do I only reblog other people's stuff with minimal tags these days? Where did all that energy and passion to do original character and text analyses go?

[alpaca-clouds]

Why the media CEOs will always learn the wrong lessons

Yesterday a friend and I talked about how the entire (AAA) game industrie looked at BG3 being as popular as it is and going: "Oh, we need to produce 100+ hour games, I guess! Those sell!" Which... obviously is not why it is popular. The game is not popular because it has 100+ hours of gameplay, but because it has engaging characters, that are well-acted and that work as good hooks for the players. Like, let's face it: The reason why I so far have sunken 160 hours into this game is, because I wanna spend time with these characters - and because I wanna give them their happy endings.

But the same has happened too, just a bit earlier this year, right? When Barbie broke the 1 billion and every Hollywood CEO went: "Oh, so the people want movies based on toy franchises! Got it!" To which the internet at large replied: "... How is that the lesson you learned from this?"

Well, let me explain to you, why this is the lesson they learn: It is because the CEOs and the boards of directors at large are not artists or even engaged with the medium they produce. They mostly are economists. And their dry little hearts do not understand stuff more complex than numbers and spread sheets.

That sounds evil, I know, but... It is sadly the truth. When they look at a successful movie/series/game/book/comic, they look at it as a product, not a piece of art or narrative. It is just a product that has very clear metrics.

To them Barbie is not a movie with interesting stylistic choices that stand out from the majority of high budget action blockbusters. It is a toy movie with mildly feminist themes.

Or Oppenheimer is not a movie to them with a strong visual language and good acting direction. No, it is a historical blockbuster.

And this is true for basically every form of media. I mean, books are actually a fairly good example. In my life I do remember the big book fads that happened. When Harry Potter was a success, there was at least a dozen other "magical school" book series being released. When Twilight was a big success there was suddenly an endless number of "teen girl falls in love with bad boy, who is [magical creature]" YA. When the Hunger Games was a success, there were hundreds of "YA dystopia" books. Meanwhile in adult reading, we had the big "next Game of Throne" fad.

Of course, the irony is, that within each of those fads there might have been one or two somewhat successful series - but never even one that came even close to whatever started the fad.

Or with movies, we have seen it, too. When Avengers broke the 1 billion (which up to this point only few movies did) the studios went: "Ooooooh, so we need shared universe film series" - and then all went to try and fail to create their own cinematic universe.

Because the people, who call the shots, are just immensely desinterested in the thing they are selling. They do not really care about the content. All they care about is having a supposedly easy avenue of selling it. Just as they do not care about the consumer. All they care about is that the consumer buys it. Why he buys it... Well, they do not care. They could not care less, in fact.

So, yeah, get ready for a 20 overproduced games with a bloated 100+ hours of empty gameplay, but without the engaging characters. And for like at least 15 more moves based on some toy franchise, that nobody actually cares about.

And then get ready for all the CEOs to do the surprised Pikachu face, when all of that ends up not financially successful.

Really, I read some interviews yesterday from some AAA-studio CEOs and their blatant shock and missing understanding on why BG3 works for so many people.

Because, yeah... capitalism does not appreciate art. Capitalism does not understand art. It only understands spread sheets.

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[libertyybellls]

I DON'T KNOW WHY I BITE ?

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; few years after winning his games, finnick endures the trials of being a victor and all he needs is a helping hand.

contains; ANGST, comfort, descriptions of forced prostitution, descriptions of gore, murder, typical hunger games mortality etc etc. not proofread… ever

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

the room once filled with a bond you could not quite replace, is now empty, gray. it lacks the golden boy who brings light to every aspect of your life- and it has been for two months now.

you know where he is, what he’s doing, and who he’s with. you know the light of his soul will be snuffed away by the calloused deceiving hands of the capitol- their everlasting appetite to claim their control over citizens and victors alike.

you almost dread the sound of your front door unlocking. your mind manifesting his misery would be long gone- begging to a higher power that he will be okay- that the pillars of his body are not crumbling in on itself.

nevertheless, as you near the front door- you see it in his eyes. he almost looks like the same 14 year old that got thrown into a death match and came out with two legs and two arms- but this time his legs can’t carry him any longer, his arms are practically hanging off his tired body.

the door is still open behind him, the chilled air seeping its way into your once warm home. his shoulders are slumped, there is no light in his eyes- only that small tinge he adorns when he is with you.

you want to pull him into your arms, to kiss the disgust off of his features, to show him he is unworthy of this muck treatment, that he is the only light that cannot be choked out, the anchor that is not misplaced, he is right where he needs to be now.

there’s a silent understanding, you can see the falter in his steps as he tries to walk towards you- so close to disintegration you can almost see his seams falling apart one by one.

you meet him halfway- pulling him into you- now you must be his pillar. you must cover his ears, quiet his thoughts.

his tears coat your shirt, your fingers run through his scalp. he wants to crawl out of his skin. he can still feel a touch that isn’t yours- it sets his nerves alight.

why won’t you leave me. his mind screams- but his voice can’t carry these words. leave me here, let me rot.

you can feel him self destruct, his knees fail and now you are kneeling infront of his vulnerable frame. you want him to look at you, to see what you see, but who are you to ask for more?

but all he sees is grief, blood from kids his age- even younger, he feels hands all along his chest- his back, he smells roses- luxury- a scent that isn’t home, he tastes metallic blood from his lips- gnawing from anxiety, he hears the praises- he hears that he’s special, that he’s so humble, what a handsome young man he is.

“i wish i could be good.”

you can’t see his face, you are glad in a way- you don’t think you’d be able to take it. “you are good finnick,” your own tears fall. “if anything you are good.”

you want to yell these words, scream them at him. so inconsiderate of you- but how dare he not see this is not his fault? a puppet has no control over his own arms.

finnicks mind screams more at the capital than himself now. your tactics have worked. you have taken every last bit of my innocence away. you control me. he begs to be left alone, he begs to be so pure and unsuspecting again.

you both know his fate, you know where he’ll be in a few years. you know that your love alone cannot keep him here- however strong. every inhale feels like poison- but he listens to you murmur as you rub his back, telling him to breath.

you see his eyes now, he tries to drink in your gaze- he wants it to be the last thing he sees, except less concerned, less worn, less worried. despite his thoughts only ever consumed by you, he looked pained- he looks as though he is elsewhere in his mind.

“nothings gonna hurt you now” sanity is a sheltered lie but you would rather surrender your wits than your boy. your fingers dance up and down his back now- erasing the sinful marks left laying in his mind.

-

so short so technically a blurb but wtv….

[l5byrinth]

fortnight

“and i love you, it's ruining my life”

pairing: nikolas omilana x reader

summary: in which niko avoids you for a certain reason, and at some point you can’t take it any longer.

requested

a/n: hii everyone i’m back from the dead like i always am every few months!!! school has been draining, but one night i got this motivation and managed to write this, hope you like it <3 btw i know i should be finishing of the hunger games requests, but there are so little fics on here for the beta squad members and the motivation just got to me when watching a video.

also pleaseeeee start requesting more beta squad, not just niko because there aren’t many fics for these amazing men

NIKO never knew what it was like to be so infuriated by someone, it caused restless nights. To be so head over heels, that all your thoughts were consumed by only that person. That was until Niko met you. The way you had him wrapped around your finger, without you even noticing or trying, was something he never understood. But it was you, how could he not be?

The famous youtuber also didn’t know what it was like to love someone that wasn’t his. Someone not meant for him.

He had respect for your relationship, of course, he wasn’t one to mingle and make things worse. Especially since your boyfriend was one of the best ones you’ve had. However, the mere thought of you drove him absolutely insane and he wasn’t sure for how much longer he could bear it anymore.

You were happy, though, and he didn’t want to be the reason that would be ruined.

So he avoided you like the plague. Leaving every room you entered, switching the topic whenever you were mentioned, trying to keep his eyes from wandering off to where you were standing. It was killing him, but if it meant keeping you happy, he didn’t mind the torture one tiny bit.

Niko hadn’t told anyone about what he felt for you, he would take it to his grave, that’s for sure. Yet, he was more obvious than he thought he was, since he’s noticed the sympathetic looks his friends gave him whenever you were around. Numerous times. It didn’t matter, it’s not like you were ever going to find out and that’s all that really mattered.

After Niko had arrived back at his apartment, he was surprised to hear not a single sound being made. Knowing Aj, he would always either be gaming and yelling for the whole neighbourhood to hear or edit a video with the volume on to the max.

After checking a few rooms for where his roommate was, he got a call from Aj himself.

“Where are you, you rat?” Niko questioned, not even bothering to greet him. Aj let out a laugh on the other line, “Missing me now, are you? Giraffe.”

Niko rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile forming on his face, “Ha ha, hilarious.”

“Anyway, I’m at Chunkz’ right now.”

And after conversing for a few minutes, discussing everything and nothing, they ended the call. The tall guy let out a loud sigh, as he sat down on the sofa, turning on the tv to watch anything that came up first. However, just when he was about to push the button of the remote, the doorbell rang.

Niko was confused to say the least, but didn’t expect much of it. It was probably one of his friends needing something from him.

When Niko opened the door, however, he wished he didn’t. His heart dropped to his stomach, his breath hitching in his throat. That was the effect you had on him. Your hair was messed up quite a bit, your lips forming a pout as you looked at him. Oh, how he had to restrain all the power in him not to kiss that pout away.

A soft call of your name left his lips, as if he was terrified it was just a hallucination. “Niko,” Your voice was stern, yet there was some kind of sadness to it. And without saying another word, you entered the apartment as if you owned the place.

When you walked past him, your scent wafted into his nostrils and he took it in. He closed his eyes, not wanting to lose control and confess the second he turned around and looked at you again. Niko closed the door, taking his sweet time going to you. You were pacing back and forth in the living space of the apartment, your eyebrows furrowed and face filled with worry.

“What’s wrong?” Niko questioned, earning a rather unbelievable scoff from you. When you stopped pacing and moved closer to him, Niko took back a step, making you even more frustrated than you were before. “You’re asking me what’s wrong? I should ask you!” You couldn’t comprehend why the closest friend you had ever had, wasn’t present in your life anymore. The minute your feet took a step closer to him, he backed away once more, “Look! What’s this? Why are you avoiding me?”

You were absolutely fuming to put it lightly. What was he doing?

His gaze fell down to the floor, because if he would look at you right now, he knew he would ruin things even more. “I don’t get it, Niko…” Your voice was dripping with desperation, but you couldn’t care less at the minute, only interested in whatever was going between the two of you.

Another step closer, but this time he didn’t budge, his eyes stuck to the ground. But when you said his name so sweetly, who could blame him when he averted his gaze to meet yours. The question that left your lips, made the guilt sink inside of him, “What did I do wrong?”

However he didn’t cave in. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t, no matter how tempting the thought of you being his seemed right now.

“Niko, please. Talk to me!”

Silence, once again.

“Nik-“

“I can’t talk, please don’t make me.” His whisper was barely audible, but still loud enough for you to hear. “Why not, huh? Are you just going to ignore me like you have done for the past couple of-“

“I have to! I never wanted for this to happen.”

The tone in his voice took you by surprise, your eyes searching his for a more clear answer, “What are you talking about?”

“You think I wanted for all of this to happen? Of course not!” He started, and he regretted everything he said after, “I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help to feel at home with you, couldn’t help but feel as if you are the only one in this universe.”

His gaze was burning into yours, “I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

Something fluttered unwantedly in your chest, followed by your breath hitching in your throat. Niko’s in love with you?

“You… what?”

“I fell for you, hard and painfully so. I’m sorry, okay? It happened one way or another and now you’re the one consuming my thoughts and dreams. I care for you and love you so deeply, it hurts me to stay away from you. But I did what’s best and will continue doing so.” He rambled, never noticing how you were still hung up on the first sentence he uttered.

But when you met his gaze once more, and saw the spark in his eyes when he looked at you, you wondered how you could’ve been so blind. “Now, please, leave before I do something both of us will regret.” Niko warned firmly.

You were stood there absolutely speechless, but came back to earth quickly, when you realised your boyfriend was waiting for you outside.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Royal Red

Have you ever seen blood BURN like the sun?

I'm not even sure "burn" is the right word for it. Writhe? Scream? HATE? Like a standing on a cliff, staring down at a valley consumed in flames. Old forests full of life... burning. Dying. Wrong.

The sky choked with thick black smoke. Tar-like and staining. The ROAR of it. Moisture ripped so utterly from the air, it hurts to breathe. Heat so absolute as it rises... you can not imagine there was ever, EVER life here.

But there was.

And it was once beautiful.

Ancient and green, bird song and morning mist. Moss beneath bare feet and the gentle quiet that is no quiet at all. A thing ALIVE. Breathing. Whole. Now gone beneath the flame. The carnage and hunger. As animals flee for their lives and your men die, desperate to hold back the all consuming spread.

Nothing but FIRE remains.

But have you seen BLOOD burn? The weeping wounds of a soul? The... WRONGNESS inside a man, catch light? A shade of ever overlapping crimson. Drying blood somehow just as fluid as the fresh. Old wounds and new. Somewhere, the depth of scars...

BURNING.

I have.

I do.

I wish I did not.

There is something... WRONG with his Highness. Now, the Crown Prince. He... He HAD brothers. Some were awful, others indifferent. But all of them? All of them are gone. Terrible accidents, allegedly. One after another. And they were NOT the only one's. Consorts, lovers, mistresses and supporters. Allies and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his Highness' way.

But of course, I can prove nothing. And to SUGGEST such a thing? That would be Treason. Defamation of a Royal. That it is TRUE? Holds no bearing. Is utterly irrelevant. Even if I HAD had the proper training, even I'd my Gifts WERE formally recognized, ultimately? Politics is King.

It's not supposed to be. But when has life ever been so kind? When has "supposed to" EVER won the day? No. Such talk gets men killed. And dying once? Was quite enough for me.

Though I HAD to wonder...

How does a Protagonist fuck up SO BADLY, that they somehow send their Hidden Route target, into an empire conquering, murder spiral? That's not "a few bad choices" levels of making a mistake. THAT'S? Damn near deliberate sabotage and I just wanna talk. Violently.

I WOULD too, if I wasn't pretty certain they were either on the run or in exile.

All I had wanted? ALL I HAD EVER WANTED?? Was to just be set dressing. Soldier A, the unimportant background gaurd. A nice, faceless, grunt. Maybe chat with my equals of plot significance, a potted plant and yonder chair. Then? I could take my pay, go home, and live quietly.

But NO!

I get stationed following the Seventh prince. Mr. Hidden Route himself. Which? Okay, fine. Was HOPING for gate duty, cause NOTHING happens on gate duty, but FINE. But THEN? Half my co-workers are ASSHOLES. Like... child abusing assholes! The FUCK?!

So? Oops. Accident on the stairs! Whoops! Lemme help you there, man. Oh? Did I ACCIDENTALLY crush the hand you used to hit that kid? Golly! Gee, I sure hope the healers can fix that for you! (I fucking know they both can't and wouldn't if they could. You can't afford SHIT.) Lemme HELP you there, AGAIN, BUUUUUDDY~☆!

Threatening you? Why I would NEVER! That's illegal!

You know... like hitting kids.

And OTHER shit they try to pull. Never DID get around to updating my Gaurd Forms. Whoops. Turns out being able to literally SEE the malicious intent on a fucker? Makes it pretty easy to know who to watch. DID get jumped a lot though. Stabbed a few times.

I just? Wanted to watch my favorite Otome game play out, you know? Get payed while doing it. Sunk cost fallacy kicked in. I've been here since I was a PRE-TEEN. Signed up for training, a ten year contract, and everything! I can LEAVE now... but like? Go WHERE? And honestly... I'm not actually sure I CAN.

Things are... Tense.

Or maybe they're just tense for me? 'Cause... Cause something isn't right. It's that burning blood color. The way it fills a room. Reaches, covetous, like staining hands. Writhes and drags itself against everything. Something unholy, between a lustful grind and the dragging of the wounded. It's not even demonic. No... somehow? It's WORSE for being utterly human.

There is something deeply wrong with the man I am sworn to obey, and I do not know how to escape him.

Because I definitely SHOULD.

I'm not stupid. He's been... been keeping me, SPECIFICALLY, close at hand, since becoming Crown Prince. The SECOND he was able to assign his OWN gaurds? I am suddenly honor gaurd. Yet not. I have basically no job but to stab just behind and to the side of him and look pretty. (For the given quality of THAT.) And...? Even the other gaurds are looking nervous.

It's NEVER a good thing when powerful people suddenly pay attention to an individual gaurd, servant, or maid. They tend to end up... hurt. Dead. Worse. And given recent behavior? Well... I've been getting offers to quietly arrange an "accident" for me.

Not so sure it won't get everyone involved killed.

He wasn't always LIKE this. Yeah, he was... different, but it wasn't BAD. Just... off. A bit weird. A color I hadn't seen before and couldn't for the life of me figure out. It had been... well, nothing. Not even grey. I KNOW grey, it's apathy or depression. Emotional flatness.

But his Highness? Like mist. The lite distortion of water droplets. Colorless and near weightless, drifting gently along. It was as though he DIDNT have emotional responses to anything. Not even flat. Just... non-existant. Which? If so? That's okay! Really. Takes all types. Something to NOTE, yeah, maybe accommodate? But fine.

It's not like there were psychiatric meds or doctors we could get for him. If he was different, so be it. We just had to work around that. Plan accordingly. Worst case scenario, maybe keep him away from small breakable things. But? He seemed benign. I shrugged and moved on. Accepted him as he was.

Maybe went out of my way to explain things with logic more then feelings. Even when I WAS explaining feelings. Ethics. Pretty much anything else he asked. Which... wait a second...

Fuck.

A nameless gaurd SHOULD NOT know that much about psychology or politics. Economics on the macro or micro scale. Oh god DAMN it Wikipedia! You betray me a lifetime away?! Et Tu random research binges!?

Okay. Okay! So maaaaybe? THATS why he's keeping me close? Cause yeah, I'm pretty stacked these days. No internet kinda leaves nothing BUT time to train and read... and books are kinda hard to get, at my level. So like? Maybe a second set of eyes?

....doesn't feel right though. Close but missing the obvious mark-ish.

I try to think of my interactions with the prince. BEFORE murder-spiral kick-off. He sought me out a lot. I interfered so many times when his Tutors crossed lines, they got me kicked out of the main building. He started skipping lessons to self-study. I got put on patrol? He learned my patrol schedule. Would invade the gaurd mess.

Got punished for that, I think. Vicious cycle. I get punished, he gets upset, wants to make sure I'm okay, I get punished for his basic empathy and being a kid. They kept reassigning me. I got stabbed that first time. Sent too...

Wait.

I try to pull up what I know of the Game in my brain. The Hidden Route and the other Routes. We are.... WAY off script. Not off GENRE... just...?

Mentally I set the Game aside. Shifting in my guarding position at the Crown Prince's side. He continues to work. The soft rustle of papers and the scratching of his pen, filling the silence along side the clink and shift of my armor. We are in the sun room, surrounded by flowers, supposedly for the better light.

To be honest, I hadn't ever BEEN in this room until I was basicly expected to tail the Crown Prince like a glorified, armor wearing, pet. And too be honest? Given that the REST of his honor gaurd were ACTUAL KNIGHTS? It was well beyond ridiculous at this point.

I was a club bouncer surrounded by elite special forces, in fancy little armor, that I could in NO way, have ever afforded on my own. Oh, and I wasn't really allowed to talk to them. So... WHY? Why, EXACTLY, was I here? There was no realistic way anything could get PASSED all those knights. I certainly wasn't PROTECTING the Crown Prince from SHIT.

And... and he hadn't attacked me, thank God. No touchy hands "service to the crown" shtick. Demanding things I couldn't refuse him. So THAT wasn't it...

Right?

My brain insisted it wasn't. That I should keep going over the list of possible reasons. Consider This or That. But... Something in my gut? Rang like a struck bell. Some non-physical part of me. That peice that twined, like gentle golden ivy, up through my body, too wrap around my eyes from the inside. Not enough, maybe, to get me into some high and mighty school or apprenticeship... but ENOUGH.

Because Magic was, is, and always has been? Divine. For all that HUMANS fail while using it. For every MORTAL error in it's implementing or understanding. It's a drop of the Divine. And? You can not LIE to the Gods. Hide, perhaps, but not LIE. Even then, you'd have to know what you're hiding FROM.

Kinda hard to hide from "using past life knowledge to deduce motivation" when that's not exactly a thing people can easily guess I HAVE. I get away with shit. Know things I really shouldn't.

Am.... am desperately trying to convince myself that the twinge I just felt? DOESN'T mean what I think it means. Even as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. As I desperately keep my expression placid and my stare straight into the middle distance. Ha ha.... oh god. No no no, oh god, no...!

Okay. OKAY! Lying to yourself will NOT keep you safe! We can do this! Nothing is happening. We just... just have to play it cool. NOT. PANIC.

He DID want us for sexual reasons.

But... more? More, maybe. I poke at the feeling. Try to frame my thoughts as absolute statement as see if I get a twinge again. To get a feel for the edges of whatever is happening. I can not protect myself, if I do not KNOW from what I protect AGAINST. Just sex? No. Was I a convenience choice? Also No. Revenge for something? A sudden certainty that I'd be DEAD if it was.

Oh, THATS not concerning at ALL!

Okay, keep prodding. Uuuuh... He has a thing for big muscle-y dudes with scars? Strong yes. Okay! Getting somewhere! Kinda thought he liked the petite, girly girl-ish typ-? Weirdly hollow No? Strong. Okay, what the FUCK. See THIS? THIS is why I wanted to be a fucking GAURD. No weird Protagonist of any adventures bullshit! Just a 9-5 with a paycheck at the end!

Uuuugh. Okay, soooo... likes? Strong dudes.... and I was the closest? No. Okay! Getting somewhere! Other strong dude... isn't available? Yes, but I am looking at it wrong. Great. At least I know what that feeling MEANS. Still wish it would just follow up with a "and btw, here's the answer~☆" but, fuck no! Why would life make anything EASY for a guy?

Fuck it! Random shit at the wall time. He's definitely in love with the Protagonist? No. Wait, really? Then why...? No. Stay on track. He's in definitely in love with ME? I wait, utterly expectant, for the twinge that will mark a negative. Half cursing myself for not checking with the Divine sooner. There had been no excuse. Distractions, yes, but no excuse.

It feels like getting sucker punched in the gut. HARD.

Takes everything in me, not to wheeze and double over. That... that wasn't a "yes". That was so FAR beyond "yes" I'm not sure there are spoken, written, or even conceptual WORDS for it. As absolute a CONCEPT of Yes as I have ever felt or probably ever will.

It... It did NOT feel good.

That was a WARNING.

Like the Gods them selves had taken me by the back of the neck, stepped close, to whisper in my ear as they drove their fist into my gut. "Pay Attention To This. RUN. You Need To RUN. There Are Monsters Here."

My eyes feel like they are burning. Like I haven't blinked in too long. Colors a bit too bright, details too sharp. The edges of reality cutting like splintering, glittering, glass. Everything has a GLOW to it. It's never done that before. Is... is this panic? Fight or Flight forcing me to draw deeper then I ever have before?

Or are the Gods paying attention? Displeased by what they see?

The room around us is... is so quiet. Beautiful. Rare flowers, teeming with life. Decorative and pampered little song birds, flitting from roost to roost. The rich scent of rare tea and expensive cologne, mixing with armor polish and the scent of green, living things. Sunlight makes his Highness' hair glow like it was made of it. Pale gold and filled with light.

If I could not SEE... his Highness would be beautiful.

But I can, and instead? He's terrifying.

I think I'm shaking. I don't understand. The room around me picturesque. Peaceful. Golden and filled with gently beautiful things. Light. It feels mocking. Paper thin. Like some cruel trap laid out over a pit of tar. As though, like in the cartoons of my old childhood, the INSTANT I become aware... acknowledge the reality of my ACTUAL surroundings?

The paper thin veneer will rip, no longer able to hold my weight, and I will be plunged into the horrors just beneath the lie.

How.... HOW did-?! I... I CAN'T-!

I put everything I am, into letting nothing show. E-Everything is FINE. Do not turn around. Please. Please, Gods, do not notice me or turn around! I breathe. Breathe. Can't do nothing now, but breathe. Panic is the mind killer. I remind myself of that. People do stupid things, when they act in panic. Think. THINK! Plan. THEN act! Breathe.

How? HOW did this happen? Trace it back. Find the source and we can... can maybe unhook the noose. Fix this? Escape? Run and keep running. Find the edge of the map and keep going. Where did it...? My brain, maybe my magic, finally takes pity. Connects the wires that have long been JUST missing each other. My mental list of Genre Troupes. My history with the Prince.

The blood drains from my face.

Oh fuck. Shit! Oh fuck, oh SHIT. Yandere. He was a YANDERE hidden route character! Wasn't he!? It's the only thing that makes sense with the-! No, no, he should still-! But, wait. No. No, no, NO. Oh god! I pulled a combo attack. "Childhood best friend" even though we WEREN'T. I was basically the closest in age to him! AND the only non-asshole! So that's "Different From The Others"!

Oh mother FUCKER, I pulled a "Only One Who Cares About Me" while SERVING him! His fucked up little squirrel brain would have taken that as "belonged to him" only to have me "taken away" when I was assigned elsewhere! Every time I kept someone from ABUSING him, I was making it WORSE. Every time they reassigned me, somebody was "trying to take me away"!

Oh sweet merciful FUCK, I got STABBED!

No WONDER he lost his absolute shit! He was unhinged to begin with! But instead of latching on to Protagonist and being HER problem, he latched on to ME! Why did no one warn me he was-!? Actually, I have no idea. Non-Just-Straight?! That! One of the THAT! Like FUCK I'm asking! He'd think it was an invitation, probably!

Because he NUCKING FUTS! Squirrels in the brain! Def Con OH SHIT!!

Yandere! Shit! I'm gonna di-!

"Something's upset you." The crown prince's surprisingly deep voice says, breaking the silence. I flinch. "I can feel your magic moving. An attack, perhaps? Or is someone saying something they should not."

He... oh, great, amazing! He can FEEL my magic. The magic INSIDE me body. That magic. Yeah, I don't feel stripped naked and on display AT ALL. Thanks! Definitely not invasive, your Highness! Still, I have to answer. Carefully. Very, VERY carefully.

He hums, disbelieving, as I reply. Lifting his pen and setting it aside. A graceful hand lifts. The mere flick of his fingers. "Move" it means. "Come where I can see you". Imperious and royal. Casual in it's assumed control of me. Why would he believe anything else, after all? He IS a prince. The CROWN Prince. Future KING.

He DOES own me.

I keep my breathing even. Keep my hands from visually shaking by tightening my grip on my spear. Even, professional, steps. Forward. Turn. Face your ruler. Your BETTER. No eye contact. Even breathing and eyes to the horizon. You are a statue. Just... just be a statue. No thoughts. You can do this.

It doesnt help. I can FEEL those pale, pale eyes. Striking and blue. Rare flower petals or glacier ice, they have been called. Compared to all sorts of haunting things. The Crown Prince is a beautiful man. That dangerous sort of pale beauty, that make for excellent portraits, of bright and holy things. That fools the eyes into thinking surely, SURELY the soul before your is Good. Trustworthy.

How could anything so beautiful be DANGEROUS?

Be corrupted and insane? A killer. A madman.

A MONSTER.

I stand at attention. Where he can observe me. His little toy soilder. Kept like a PET, I know realize, and try not to feel like I am being picked apart. Like a mouse in some tigers cage. The far wall sure is fascinating. Mmmmhmm. Very... very wall-like. Glass and artfully arranged flowering vines. Very pretty. What a wall! Ten stars for wall-ness.

The near silent shift of fine fabrics. A tap. Nail on high grade armor alloy. Just the smallest of sounds that nonetheless seems deafening. I barely stop myself from jerking back in alarm. Can't prevent my gaze from snapping downwards. To the arm outstretched, the elegant hand curled, the well manicured finger nail on the single outstretched finger... that has placed itself right over my heart. I freeze, utterly.

"You're getting nervous, aren't you? Growing uncertain. I've been so busy planning ahead, I've forgotten the here and now, haven't I?" He muses. That finger I should not be able to feel, that somehow feels like a knife trailed along my skin, glides slowly down. A meandering path down towards my belt. "I've neglected you."

The finger hooks into my belt. I am dragged forward a few stumbling steps with a deceptively strong tug. There is significant muscle, hidden by the almost waifish cut of his Highness daily wear. The eyes watching for my reaction are predatory. Intent. It was as though there should be fangs, in that pleasant, politician's grin...

"My steadfast knight, warrior of my heart, you've been so patient for me... so LOYAL." He rolled the word across his tongue as he said it, eyes locked on me with the sort of interest hunter keep, more a sigh then a word. Somehow.. Somehow the concept became OBSCENE, once in his hands. "So good for me. Even after all this time. Soon, Dearest. Soon we won't have to hide. I promise."

I had NEVER been a knight. Not even CLOSE to qualified for the training. Not even a single branch, magical or otherwise. Worse? I knew for a FACT? We had never, not ONCE, been lovers. No stolen glances. No fumbling youthful hands. No "hey, let's explore this closet!". Nothing. I? Had been studiously professional, if a decent human being.

This was ALL him.

What narrative had he painted in his head?

My heart pounds. My brain somehow both gibbering hysteria and unnatural calm. I... I think I may be disassociating. But all I can think, all I KNOW, is that I can NOT, Under ANY Circumstances, break the illusion. Do NOT argue. Why YES, deeply insane FUTURE KING, I DO love you so VERY much! Hey, don't mind me, just left the phone running. Gonna go for a walk. Buy some milk.

I watch, pleasant service industry smile feeling plastic on my face, as he leans forward. Rests his head against my armored chest, as though we were lovers. Just stealing a quite little moment alone. His hand slides along my belt, fingers hooked into it, the brush of his knuckles feeling far filthier then any groping hand. I can HEAR him breathing me in.

Obscene. How is he making such chaste contact so deeply obscene? He let's out a pleased hum and I want a shower.

"Kneel for me?" So soft I almost don't catch it, it takes a moment to register the words. This time, I can not stop myself from tensing. I know he feels it, but can not bring myself to care. "Shhhh shh shh, none of this, my Darling. To your knees before your King. Sweetheart, my dearest. You're going to be serving me there for the rest of our lives. It's okay. Your King won't rush you. He knows how shy you are. How nervous."

W-Well THAT wasn't treason! At ALL! Ha ha...! Oh god.

Hands at my waist. When did the other one-?! I'm shaking. Smile. D-dont set him off. This is fine. I... I shouldn't be ABLE to feel their heat, through my armor. Somehow I do. I want to back up. If I got to do this? At least let me-!

But, no. Pressure. Hands on my hips dragging me down, watching eyes expectant. In stops and starts... like a seizing automaton, my knees bend. Down I go... I guess.

Almost instantly, there are hands unbuckling my helmet. Sliding it off. Stealing it away. Fingers slide through my hair. Cup my cheek. A thumb running itself across my mouth. The prince seemed to loom. Hungry as he stared down at me.

"Beautiful. My loyal knight is so, SO beautiful. I am going to give us the world. Take what is ours. No one will EVER hurt us again, Dearest. I will keep you forever. Dress you in armor and roses. Mine and mine alone."

There was madness in his eyes. Obsession. Is...is that what that color meant? That burning, terrible blood? It's too late. Oh god, it's too late for that to help me. I smile. Do not argue. Fear and fear and fear. I have to get out. On my knees, it is a terrible view of what's to come, should I fail. The Games's utterly fucked. I no longer care.

I have to get out.

The King, after all, has gotten sick lately.

[disgurrr]

Before the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss proclaims to Gale that she "never wants to have children." This declaration was made after having thoughts on how starvation or lack of food still plunges her and her family's daily lives, despite the hard work of her and her hunting partner.

“I never want to have kids,” I say. “I might. If I didn’t live here,” Says Gale. “But you do,” I say, irritated. “Forget it,” he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong.

Gale's "I might. If I didn't live here" is met with "But you do." To Katniss, there is no possibility of another world where the oppression of the Capitol does not govern her and her family's lives, and where her basic physiological needs are not met. Her children will be another mouth to feed, her children will be another name in the pool of potential slaughter. And she just can't have that. She took a vow to never bring children into the world of the Hunger Games, where this ugly form of government rules her world. She just can't think of a future where she isn't constantly thinking about hunger, providing food for her family by using her hunting skills. Her role as a provider limits her to any wistful thinking of being anything else. But then something changes, she becomes a real contender in winning the Games, and now, she has...Peeta.

As a Victor, her basic physiological needs will be met and this allows her a “new kind of freedom.” As a Victor, she thinks about what her life will be like back in 12, and even starts to think of her future:

What would my life be like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I'm not really sure who I am, what my identity is..."But you won't be alone," I whisper to myself. I have my mother and Prim. Well, for the time being. And then…I don't want to think about then, when Prim has grown up, my mother passed away. I know I'll never marry, never risk bringing a child into the world. Because if there's one thing being a victor doesn't guarantee, it's your children's safety. My kids' names would go right into the reaping balls with everyone else's. And I swear I'll never let that happen.

Even if she thinks about the rewards of being a Victor (poor Katniss), she still rejects the notion of marriage and children. Why? Because as long as the Games exist, she will not risk having them. Her future is still limited, but as she’s having these thoughts, she’s looking at Peeta, almost in a glorious way. And that to me is so telling, and intentional from SC. She starts to think about his future, then their future together:

The sun eventually rises, its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peeta's face. Who will he transform into if we make it home?... At least, we'll be friends, I think...And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. Anything beyond that though…

To me, she's subconsciously associating children and marriage with Peeta, but most telling, the association of children. Additionally, her mind naturally starts to wonder about the possibility of something more with him. Because they can’t just be friends, no, they always have to be more.

She eventually does consciously make the association of children to Peeta:

That it's no good loving me because I'm never going to get married anyway and he'd just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn't matter because I'll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we've just been through?

Even though Peeta has never spoken about wanting children, or has been explicitly narrated interacting with them, Katniss makes this association to him. Simply put, Peeta’s romantic love will end with children. Because to her, Peeta represents rebirth, revitalization, he is simply a “life giver.” He makes life, he creates it, and that is why she associates children with him. The epitome of creation of life.

And notice how she doesn’t want to tell him “I never want I have kids.” No, now it is “…I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family.”To Katniss, the love that she shares with Peeta will end with marriage and children with Peeta, and that is a luxury, a luxury she cannot afford because what it will mean to her life.

In Catching Fire, Katniss repeatedly makes this association. Even saying that it could be true that she would be married and pregnant with his child. In the QQ, she proceeds to tell us that Peeta will be a good father (as he represents safety and protection) and daydreams about his child while thinking of the lullaby her father sang to her as a child. All of this emphasizes the notion that Peeta’s fate is being a father, and her usage of the lullaby tells us she has this maternal longing for his child. It is also foreshadowing the epilogue. At this point of the story, there should be no question who Katniss is in love with, and who she will end up with. But also, what the future will look like for Peeta and Katniss.

In comparison to Gale, she has NEVER thought about having children with Gale, not the way she does it with Peeta. Even when Gale has admitted to wanting them, and has interacted with them like his baby sister. Actually, Peeta is the one who suggests her having children with Gale, and her reaction is that he is mistaken to suggest such a thing, essentially rejects that idea, and to me, is also declaring she will never have children with Gale, “that’s never been part of my plan.”

The idea of Katniss having children with Gale is met with rejection and a sense of wrongness: “it feels all wrong” “it’s a mistake…never been part of my plan” “besides, if he [Gale] wants kids, he won’t have trouble finding a wife.” In other words, if Gale is going to have kids, it is not going to be with her, it’s going to be with someone else.

But, the idea of Katniss having children with Peeta is met with “it could be true” “where Peeta’s child could be safe” “our children.” And after all of this, it is safe to conclude that if she is going to have children, it is going to be with Peeta. Because with him, she only feels safe and secure to have that type of life with. With him, she believes in rebirth, hope, and possibilities.

A future with Peeta does mean children and marriage, and that scares her throughout the story. Because she is scared of wanting all of it badly, because she simply can’t afford it, not when the Hunger Games still exist, and their children will not be safe from the reaping, they will die in the Games.

But then the Rebellion is won, and the Capitol has fallen, Katniss can take whatever journey she wants. And she chooses the journey that she has secretly longed for, the journey where her…no, where her and Peeta’s future children will be safe. It just takes her a long time to be convinced that they are truly in a different world, where nothing will arise and take her children away, take away her joy and happiness.

Side note: I want to say a special thank you to the beloved @tetheredfeathers. For always sharing great insight and beautiful words, and reading all my crazy rambles and thoughts. Thank you ❤️ ❤️

[vibingandsimping]

hi! would you feel comfortable writing up something for a godhood!gale after he assembles the crown of karsus and wields the power for himself, seeking out a vulnerable tav as his chosen? i think the darker aspects of gale’s personality, like his ego and his possessiveness, could be really attractive

I like the way your brain thinks. Keep sending me juicy thoughts like this… I am THRIVING. He 100% would seek you out.

I wanted to make this a longer post for one of my follower goal specials. I rewrote this like two or three times because I liked the prompt. Still, was never satisfied with it. I will possibly write something based off this later… but for now enjoy a drabble + some headcanons :)

(also still haven’t finished the game… work is a bitch 🤞)

Gale always sought out knowledge and power. It was how he had gotten so intimately involved with Mystra. He spent his life studying and practicing to ensure he’d be a great wizard- like his mentor Elminster. Yet, nothing ever truly felt like enough to him. The weave in his chest ever-consuming proof of his hunger. That was until the Netherstones. He nearly drooled when you held Ketheric’s in your hand. The power thrumming and sending his veins alight. He thought all to have only a fraction of their power… but these. These stones were unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Everytime he stood near Orin or Gortash, his skin would tingle. He yearned to wield that for himself. To study and debunk everything behind it and nurture his mind with the intellect he could collect. He placed his trust into you. You led the group and held them close to you after killing Orin. Gale was noticeably on edge the entire trip with Gortash. He chalked it up to nerve- partially true. The Elder Brain was a powerful entity and surely would be intimidating. So, you as oblivious as ever, smiled and reassured him. He almost envied you. Once you reached the brain with the Archduke, you handed over the two stones and reconnected the three. Piecing together the Crown of Karsus. After Gortash was slain by Bane for serving his purpose… fate was left in your hands.

He watches as you turn the artifact over to him. He’s trembling as he holds the crown, finally feeling the immense magic coursing through him. He closes his eyes and claims it for himself- finally. When he reopens he is faced with Mystra who is less than pleased. He won’t relent, no, this is what he wanted. She placed a bomb in his chest just to ensure nobody could claim this power. How ironic that he ended up being Karsus’s successor? After winning a mental duel she curses him and banishes him from her realm. Why should he care, though? Mystra was nearly useless to him. He was a god now. When he returns to your realm, his skin glows ever so slightly and his brown eyes are much brighter. You can see his changed form and sense the change of his mind. He takes one of your hands in his- his skin electrifying to the touch. It sends a shiver down your spine. Gale draws the back of your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss. “Thank you,” he hums, “for bestowing this privilege onto me. I won’t let it be for nothing. Join me, my love. I can give you anything and everything you’d ever want.” Quite frankly, how could you turn down a god?

Gale was different from that day on. He was still tender and caring. So doting for your every need. Yet, he seemed to view you much differently. You were a mortal- so weak in comparison to him. His lips would trail your skin as if you were porcelain and he so despised not having you by his side. What if something happened to his beloved lover? Oh, and don’t you dare imply that he’s changed. His usual gentle and… a little overprotective or possessive nature will morph. He’ll become colder and stare at you. How has he changed, his beauty? What do you mean he doesn’t treat you the same? Isn’t this better? In the lap of power and in the hands of a god?

Careful what you say and do. He would hate having to punish you. Stripping you of your magic abilities or casting a spell to dumb-ify you. That, or how about being trapped in his personal quarters for a couple days? With no-one but himself to keep you company? Oh, don’t worry. Those are only if you disrespect his new placement. He knows it’s a lot to adjust to, he’s still adjusting himself. This is a journey you’ll take on together, hand in hand, just like how you started. He’ll do nearly anything for you, only ask. Just promise to never leave his side, okay? He couldn’t bare to let you go.

And if you did leave… it won’t be for long. He will find you and he’ll ensure that you recognize the mistake. You can’t escape your god, love.

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep4

• cooper and lucy wandering the desert and mans starts coughin', somethin' settin' in • whoa i just realized you could hear roger roaring from outside • roger was at a clinic, probably trying to find something to help him ☹️ • i wrote a whole entire post on this scene but anyways can i say we see full blown uncooked cannibalism hardly ten minutes into episode four like is everyone ok • the fact this scene is presented with a lot of tension, like a horror film and truly it's just a guy named roger fighting to stay not feral • i wonder how cooper met him? ghouls tend to know each other after a while [on account of the discrimination], i'm sure he was checking with this man every now and then tbh. perhaps. a friend. • cooper asks roger how he's feeling and he says "you know... it's hard out here. dang smoothies can be so unkind" and i just 😞 • "i see you got a smoothie of your own" ding ding ding ghoulcy this one's for you • you know what's particularly sad about ghoulification is for example that roger has had to isolate himself from others, even ghouls, because he was turning • roger asking for a vial and cooper looking at lucy [cooper, you botched the using lucy for bait, come on] • firmly in the camp that if cooper had vials left, he would give one to roger. cooper has shown himself to be crude and cruel seeming at times but i just know he went there with purpose • roger accepting he's turning and telling cooper and lucy to leave as a warning, roger seemed so nice, why and how did he get like this

• "i did ok" 😞 • going from standard human to turning into a feral ghoul in less than twenty eight years in the fallout universe is insane and idk if there's a lot of lore on why someone could end up like this and someone like cooper not • the difference in cooper's and roger's symptoms are pretty stark--- not entirely sold on him coughing and passing out is from ferality and more inclined to think chem withdrawals but i digress • "say, you remember how good food use to taste?" post war life is so bad, nobody in the wasteland remembers when food use to food 😭

• because roger is really nice and having a conversation, roger turns, speaking to lucy. cooper using this as an opportunity to kill roger seems so sudden and a betrayal until • look at cooper's eyes and his reaction after pulling the trigger--- not exactly the expression of someone who is in it "for the love of the game", in fact, i have come to view this act as a mercy kill • which is ironic of course because as we've all come to see, lucy does the exact thing for her own mother four episodes later • once feral, ghouls roam the wasteland operating on two instincts alone: hunger and defense. they are a threat to all those around them and i don't recall much on reversal. that's no life. roger would've turned feral and harmed them or others, it is sad • cooper mercy killing roger was in some ways compassionate, he had a sweet conversation with roger giving his last thoughts something warm and nice. cooper then going on to butcher and consume his flesh was an uh choice 💀

• and lucy immediately confused was like "wait?, why'd you do that? he was sick." i don't know if she entirely understands ghoulification, seems she thought maybe he could be helped • lucy is basically confused, begging cooper to not like, eat this guy 😭 • i'm gonna have to agree that he didn't have to eat roger, radroaches is everywhere and for free, still pondering if he did this to fuck with her or because some reason i am missing • cooper asking lucy what her name was [hold on, why he care about that?" and lucy so nearly coming this close to finding out what hank did and who cooper is [since she didn't ask his name] • "sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella" is my all time favourite quote in season one of this show lmao • cooper be funny as fuck for no reason like this man's brain is cooked • i would personally like to ask walton whose idea it was to go "mmm. mmm." while eating irradiated human flesh like that, like why is the pre war actor cooper howard like this • lucy is incomprehensibly disgusted but then goes on a thing [a vulnerable thing] about vault 32 starving [in the great plague of '77] and that she lost her mother during this time and that her father never resorted to cannibalism. there's some time and memory discrepancies here • "well there's what people say they did and what they really did" i wanted cooper to be wrong so bad here when he went on to clown hank by saying "i'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. i bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbour's ass on it" • lmao they gave all the best lines to cooper, i'm sick, he was right • lucy, having had enough and not finding cooper's humour being used as a way to cope like this asks this disturbed little man • "how do you live like this? why keep going?" and for the briefest moment, and i do mean brief, cooper feels the crushing weight of who he is when lucy confronts him like this • of course he shakes off a moral inquiry and transfers it to another as he asks "why the fuck am i doing all the work?... ass jerky don't make itself." and forces lucy to do it instead • twice now this man has talked about ass in less than ten minutes and for everyone's sake i'll move along 💀

• woody basically trying to interrogate the raider prisoners and getting nothing, meanwhile--- i think they already starting to be poisoned • ooo ok but betty telling norm he's the last standing maclean in the vault so his words carry and people listen. it occurred to me maybe he inadvertently inspired the poisonings of the raiders but it's also occurring to me that because they couldn't just all be shot outright, being poisoned was the best follow through method, nobody notices until it's already too late. now who is sneaky enough for that? • "when clever boys like you are angry, you're lucky not to have seen where that can lead." so... was betty present for shady sands? hmm • betty asking norm to tread lightly is very... not a threat, but she's watching him, right

• ok! we have that second water scene. it's confirmed here cooper is fetching water from an irradiated source [hence why denying lucy any makes sense] he puts it in his canteen and drinks it just fine. lucy is obviously mindlessly thirsty because she defeatedly drops down to drink the murky, stagnant irradiated water. it's so irradiated, her pip boy is going crazy, she literally gags in the scene • "now you're getting it. how does this golden rule jibe with what's going through your head now?" well i mean we knew cooper been fucking with her the whole time and showing her the wasteland streets but it is also unlikely she would have found a clean water source where they are, i guess her getting radiation sickness may have been inevitable but cooper denying her water kept her from being sick • after another insane string of sentences from this centuries old movie star, lucy finally asks "what are you?" and it's more like "what the fuck is wrong with you?" • "oh i'm you, sweetie, you just give it a little time" is majorly menacing after everybody just drank stagnant rad water like it's koolaid • cooper felt so smug then was zapped with karma again because he has a coughing fit directly after telling lucy this lmao • walton has such a good old man cough ❤️ • lucy takes cooper coughing up a lung as an opportunity to run [where i don't know but] • cooper uses his lasso skills he used to use at kid's parties to pull lucy back and then says some shit like "where you think you going? you ain't going nowhere."

• so we have arrived at the infamous and intriguing finger biting off scene--- can i just say she bit his finger off with such ease and then! cooper doesn't even act like it hurt, he seems... pleased he got that kind of reaction out of lucy. he's like into it 💀 • "there you are, you little killer" i'll keep this pg13 and say cooper really wanted to get a rise out of lucy, to bring the dog out of her, huh • he... then proceeds to cut her [corresponding hand's] finger off. ironically applying the "do unto others as you would have done unto you" tit for tat, if you will • i was surprised he did this because like ok, she spat it out? pick it up and reattach it, fella 😭 but there's more under the surface here because • cooper says "now that right there is the closest thing we've had to an honest exchange so far." and he's being framed in a close up so close, you can see his dainty eyelashes, sun shining in the background, his hazel eyes sparkling--- this is not on accident ☝️ gdgkdkfd • there's a lot of symbolism to be had but for now, i'll save that for next episode notes when cooper does the thing • ah chet! and steph. i kinda am of the idea she strategically got with him but anyways! who wouldn't! chet hot as fuck! and steph look like an assassin • bert's shoes so small gldgldfl • steph is definitely angry and sad dealing with bert's death in her own special way [trying to fuck chet] • excuse me but why they turned an almost sex scene into a birthing scene 😭💀 • lucy been walking the wasteland without a shoe, how she do it 😭 • i did not pick up on cooper bartering lucy for two months' worth of vials [thanks subtitles] • "mint condition" [looks at a bloody stump on hand] "near mint condition" now who fault is this?? lmao • "you got problems out here too, sweetheart" like, shut up 😭 • cooper every time he interacts with a mr. handy is one of the only few places he gets to hear a voice of this old friend • "best you try your luck behind that door" well at least he untied her • this is like the third time he's gotten instant karma with lucy because either he pretended to keep it together until she went in or genuinely didn't know he was going to pass out but • went through the five stages of grief trying to figure who he sold her to because i deadass was thinking the same thing lucy was 😭 • lucy being given the finger of like, a corpse or something because it's grey 😭 forever changed by the wasteland, always carrying a little bleakness and death with her ❤️ • lucy never experiencing real cotton [or maybe only rarely] • lucy calling cooper a creature 😭 • "he put a leash around my neck and made me drink from puddle water that i'm pretty sure was some kind of animal pee" sending 😭 she talking to this evil mr. handy like it's a person • her recounting her captivity with cooper like he was simply being mean to her is just • "and i thought i was here to be a sex slave." "what?! no! what a disgusting idea. i'm simply going to harvest your organs." damn, fallout which one is worse, like fuck---

• hope the jello cake veronica got wasn't poisoned... • "what are you looking at?" "a murderer in a cage, paying the price for what you did to us. for what you did to the innocent people in vault 32" and norm gets circumstantial evidence from a raider by accidentally cross examining one of them with it being more than anything woody could coax out of them • one thing about the macleans, they smart • i also think it's excellent writing that intrigue was spurred like this by a raider saying vault 32 wasn't innocent because they were running an experiment like all the vaults did, everything isn't so black and white • norm reads every situation correctly because why he read chet by saying chet came along to investigate because norm reminds him of lucy fkdgkdkg • still piecing together the full extent of vaults 31, 32, 33 together but at first i couldn't understand why it looked like so many took their own lives--- apparently them discovering what vault 31 was about started a rebellion but two years seemed so recent to me. curious how this overlaps with shady sands if it does • they showed the spooky ass rat utopia experiment still playing on the tvs in there but i wasn't sure if this was explicit about that being vault 32's experiment

• lucy being prompted to continue on because of a flashback from her mom upon awakening 🥲 • "lucy sweetie what are you doing out here?" and those were her memories on the surface [nevermind cooper calling her [[condescendingly]] "sweetheart"] • i did not realize the ghouls were being kept in the freezers but it looks like they either only sell ghouls or keep the ghouls "on ice" [not unlike how dom pedro would keep cooper and cut pieces off of him] and collect the organs of standard people right then and there • "sir, you can't do this. please, i need my organs" lucy, it's just a robot bulter, he's not a real guy 😭 • the way lucy got out of this pickle quick, almost got snip snipped but short circuited the murderbot • lucy putting her murdercap on and putting drano in the murderbot's syringes, clever girl • it was so "star wars" of her to treat mr. handy like a person and then the guys running the organ trafficking scheme going "you might as well be holding an air conditioner hostage" 😭 • the organ traffickers running the super duper mart ring are so dull and banal evil types, it's so satire

• i just registered those two organ trafficker guys got a camera and can see cooper laid out in front of the store • lucy freeing the ghouls 🥲and one even thanking her [even the feral ones 💀] • poor martha, i peep how we see lucy's grey finger and it being shown used to defend herself against martha in her feral state • organ traffickers got ate up bless • nothing lucy did besides shoot was going to honestly stop martha, sometimes your pacifist playthrough doesn't go as planned • the pip boys still being on and running on the not alive people in vault 32 • "death to management" and it's directly the reference to vault 31's experiment, right there

• lucy walking out of there with mismatched shoes but two shoes nonetheless ☝️ • i guess lucy sincerely did not comprehend cooper is a ghoul or ghoulification, i suppose most vault dwellers literally would never know, that's post war history, wow • lucy asking cooper about if the vials keep him from going feral and he cannot even speak, he can only nod, from a prone position, on the ground--- the power/framing trade off is excellent • lucy bends down, briefly rolls the gun in her hand, while cooper lies helpless, she delivers a fatal line • "i may end up looking like you. but i'll never be like you" harbouring not enough ill will against him despite mistreatment, she gives cooper several vials, directly near his hand. didn't have to do none of that shit! • if i was cooper, i'd be scared as hell of this lady, she took down an organ trafficking ring in a grocery store ran by two armed guys, a murderbot, with some feral ghoul hostages, all of the bad and dangerous people fucking died • she really could've ended cooper right then and there, his devotion in season two gone be unmatched lmao

• i truly think he had a hint of a smile on his face after she helped [save his life] by anyways • lucy walks into the proverbial sunset meanwhile this man shambles into super duper mart about to go on the biggest bender the wasteland has seen since the bombs dropped • cooper gets so fucked up, i lost count how many things he ingested, king said all of 'em • cooper is so goddamn famous, his film "the man from deadhorse" is just sitting next to a tv • you could say here is where cooper has a crisis of conscience whereupon he holds the tape in his hand but truly we know already he had that centuries ago when he filmed "the man from deadhorse"

• cooper watching the scene, the very moment in his life where things started to shift--- he tries to cock an invisible fun, being unable as he remembers his trigger finger is gone [neutral, disarmed, here's where i think he decides he wants to sew on lucy's finger to his hand] it's like he's starting over, a moral rebirth but with his trigger finger • they really made cooper say "you commie son of a bitch" in a western, just ugly propaganda • let's examine "feo, fuerte, y formal" again! "ugly, strong, dignity" does post war cooper have two out of three on that front? is this his step into regaining dignity again? • cooper was always playing characters, it was expected of him and he got paid for it. it feels like a wall is being torn down, something is being shed here. and maybe it's this character he's masquerading as • cooper and lucy both having revelations in the super duper mart--- lucy realising you can't always reason and logic out of a situation and cooper being confronted with the fact you can keep your morality and sense of self intact and a horrible place and situation doesn't have to change you

[solarduckarts]

lucy gray: bye, gotta go catch some katniss, back in a minute.

snow: kay?

64 years later

katniss: my name is katniss everdeen.

snow, almost passing out: damn you lucy gray, always gotta have the last words don't you?

[rose-pearls]

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Summary: winning the games as a Career was supposed to be the best day of your life and yet it all comes crashing down as president Snow makes a radical decision.

Hi! I'm back after some time but I had a bit of a writer block and my bachelor paper was kicking my ass but here I am!! This is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?" and the reader is Mags grand-child! I'm not sure with who the reader is going to end up with but we will see!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain

Nothing.

You feel nothing. Not even after they announced you as the winner, the winner of the 75th Hunger Games. 

There was a part of you that always expected it to be the best day of your life, you had been trained for it, groomed, and prepped since you were born.

And yet the only thing you can feel as the final canon goes off is the utter guilt and pain in your chest. The supposed victory gets washed away with a terrible feeling of guilt; your hands that had already been coated with blood were now making you feel sick. 

The knife in your hand falls to the ground just as your legs give up, making you fall to the ground on your knees. Some would see it as a pure relief from the win, but they don’t know how it is the flashes of lifeless bodies that drag you down to the ground.

Each one of your victims’ flashes before your eyes, the sweet girl from twelve, the little boy from district nine and so many others before your final kill, the boy from one. He could have won it; he had the strength and the speed for it but, in the end, he made too many mistakes and the voice of your trainer told you to go for the kill.

“Give them a show” they told you. And as you look around the arena, water lapping around the shore of the beach, reminding you of home you realize that you did. They won’t be able to say that you won by luck, like some say about Brutus. You won like a Career was supposed to.

There are people coming into the arena, first picking up the lifeless body of the district one boy, the last body of the other dead tributes. You realize in the plane back to the Capitol that in the end you killed all of them, doesn’t matter if they died by your hands or not, they didn’t survive the arena, but you did.

Before you know it, you feel a weird sensation, like someone has put some morphine into your body and you fall to the floor. Silently you beg for it to kill you and save you from the all-consuming guilt that hasn’t stopped building up since the last canon went off. 

--

Finnick is looking at you with worried eyes when you finally manage to wake up, his blue-green eyes flicker over your features as if he doesn’t really believe you are there.

“Welcome back winner, it’s good to have your back”, the phrase is said softly, but you can see some form of sadness in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he is already missing something. 

You want to tell him that there is nothing to miss, that you are still the girl you were before you entered the arena, but you have never made a habit of lying so you don’t. 

“Hi,” you simply whisper, your throat feels like it’s on fire and Finnick smiles gently before giving you a cup of water.

“They are going to be bringing you some food later, but I wanted to talk with you before that,” there is a certain unease that follows his words as you see him taking a deep breath.

“What happened in the arena, it could cost you a lot,” you feel confused at his words, not understanding what he could possibly mean by that. 

“When you sang that song to district two boy,” he clarifies, and the memories come back to you, memories perhaps you wished wouldn’t come back. He had killed your district partner once the Career alliance crumbled, and you immediately answered his kill by hitting him in the chest with a knife. But as he looked at you with terrified eyes you suddenly remembered that he was only a 14-year-old child, trying to save himself. You stayed by his side, ignoring your trainers voice inside of your head that told you to leave and never look back, but you couldn’t. You held his hand and started to sing an old lullaby your mother used to sing to you before you left for the academy. 

He had died, his hand griping yours, but a final smile etched on his lips.

“I don’t understand the issue, he was a dying boy who needed reassurance,” you tell Finnick, struggling over the word ‘dying’ and Finnick nods in understanding.

“I know, but President Snow doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as some sort of defiance, and him thinking that is not a good thing,” Finnick whispers and you feel sick at the words, your stomach forming knots.

“What is going to happen?”, you can’t help but ask, deep inside of you some part wonders if he would kill you for that, and that you would be able to not face that small amount of guilt you had felt in the arena that was now coming back in waves.

“You will have to meet him before the crowning ceremony, he wants to talk to you,” the words have a certain tone to them, that tells you that there truly is no choice in the matter.

“Any advice?”, you ask, looking at your mentor who seemed to know everything when you met him.

“Don’t cross him,” he tells you before they come in with dinner and you look at it with uninterested eyes. 

“Just eat what you can, you won’t eat a lot the first few days as your stomach is smaller due to the games,” Finnick tells you that as if you hadn’t known of it, as if they hadn’t told you all about it during your years at the academy. 

When Finnick leaves and everyone else is gone you take the time to lift up your hospital gown, the scar that had been left by a small knife is gone, making your stomach drop.

As you start searching for any signs of the scars from the arena that you had gotten during your days in there you can only find smooth skin. The scar from when you fell down the stairs when you were little is gone, the scar on your leg from one summer ago is gone and every little scar that had lithered your body and made you, you are gone. It’s like they had taken a wipe and wiped you clean, to make you ready for the Capitol. 

You can’t sleep, not like you used to be able to. The familiar faces of the children in the arena follow you and the nightmares follow you one after the other. And as you wake up one final time you find President Snow sitting next to you. You think it’s another nightmare for a moment but the bright light shining into your eyes and the headache starting to form makes you realize that this is real. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor to meet you,” you managed to say, your voice breaking over the words as you haven’t had anything to drink yet. The man gives you a glass of water and you drink it quietly, hoping for it too last longer than it does.

“I wish I could say the same Miss Flanagan,” his words are cold, much like his last name and you try not to shiver at them, but it gets difficult as the silence follows.

“Your grand-mother, Mags, was one of the first victors to come out of the arena and just like you she was seen as a worthy winner,” you can’t help but nod, thinking of your grand-mother who had stayed in district four, unable to look at you in the games while she was in the room watching them.

“However, she seemed to know how to act, from what I have seen you can’t,” the words are slow, precise and cut like a knife.

“I am sorry for what I did in the arena sir, it wasn’t my intention to do something negative,” you try to say, you try to convince him that you didn’t have a thought behind the action you had, except for wanting to reassure the poor boy.

“This system that we have here Miss Flanagan is a fragile one and it needs to be kept stable. A girl from district four singing to a dying boy from two will give people that wrong ideas. It could lead them to think that you are more alike than you think you are,” you manage not to tell him that you all are the same, just kids thrown into an arena, some better prepared than others but still kids. Somehow the president seems to have understood what you were thinking.

“I will only say this once, and I hope you will listen to me. It is extremely important that the system stays stable, and I will not let that system be broken by a girl doing something without thinking, is that clear?”, his voice is colder than before, threats coating his words, making you shiver.

“Very clear sir, I promise you I won’t do anything like that ever again,” you whisper, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

“And yet your promise isn’t enough,” he tells you, making you want to scream and beg him to tell you how you can somehow fix something you didn’t even knew you had done.

“Being a winner from district four and a winner of a Quarter Quell will get you a lot of attention and I can’t risk you making a wrong step,” you want to tell him that you have Finnick by your side but you stop yourself, unable to talk as if he had taken all your teeth from your mouth, rendering you unable to talk.

“The public has been comparing your games to the one of Haymitch Abernathy, the previous winner of the Quarter Quell,” you remember him, not his games, but the broken man who seemed a bit more alive due to his victors win last year. Everyone had told you at the academy that Haymitch was just a washed out drunk but as you had watched the man closely you couldn’t help but think there was something more.

“People think you would make a marvelous couple and I tend to agree,” his words make your blood turn cold, his eyes calculating but a sadistic smile on his lips makes you think of a serpent, ready to attack.

“I’m not sure I follow sir,” you say after a moment of silence.

“It is quite simple miss Flanagan; I need you out of the spotlight and what better way to do that then to ban you to district twelve by marrying you too the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Sure, the marriage and your engagement will be quite the talk of the town but once that is over and your tour no one will pay attention to you anymore,” you feel your breathing quicken and yet it is as if you aren’t able to get any air inside of your lungs at his words.

“Please sir, I’ll do anything,” you try to plead but the president shakes his head.

“My decision is final, and it is a rather kind one if I do say so myself. Unless you would prefer to do what mister Odair has been doing all these years,” the prostitution, you know about it, it was difficult not to when Finnick would come crying into your grand-mother’s arms after a nightmare. It was the worst kept secret in the academy.

“No sir,” you say, feeling like a puppet on a string, unable to do anything.

“Good. Your engagement will be announced a few days before your tour. I would suggest you start packing your affairs because once you start your tour you will never go back to district four,” he closes the door behind him as if he hadn’t just destroyed your whole life and you can’t help but let out a choked sob. 

The tears that you had been holding back since the arena came falling down your cheeks as the guilt from the arena and the helplessness combined with each other as one. 

[ozthedm]

Vampire Ascendant Ramblings!

I love Baldur’s Gate 3. I love the vampire genre. I am particularly fascinated with the concept of the Vampire Ascendant for a number of reasons that mainly boil down to “what does it mean to be the Vampire Ascendant and what is the true cost of this power?”

This post is essentially a collection of my observations, thoughts, and headcanons regarding the ascension ritual. Think of this as fanfic inspiration material. Get ready folks, because we’re about to dip a toe into 5e lore and get existential.

What does the Rite of Profane Ascension actually do?

Raphael explains the ritual as thus:

“If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant. All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them he will enjoy the luxuries of the living. The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun. But the ritual has a price, as all worthwhile things do. Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls including all of his vampiric spawn if he is to ascend… Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.” 

TLDR: If Cazador offers up the souls of 7000 vampire spawn, then maybe he’ll feel less like shit.

Other specific perks include:

The hunger for blood that plagues all vampires will no longer affect him.

His heart will beat again (Could he even be considered undead at that point?)

He still gets to remain immortal in the sense that he will never age

He can choose to extend his protection from the sun to his spawn, but this protection can be revoked

He can be reflected in mirrors.

There are some details that remain unclear, so here’s where we step into headcanon territory:

Running water will no longer harm him

A normal wooden stake won’t be enough to paralyze him. You’d be better off with a magical weapon

Although he will still need an invitation to enter homes, His enhanced vampiric charm practically makes it a nonissue

And now a couple of notes on Mephistopheles and the contract itself:

“Devils bargain with mortals to upend the divine order. They stake claims on souls that would otherwise go to the gods or be cast adrift somewhere other than the Nine Hells. If you are already a creature of Law and Evil devoted to no other entity, your damned spirit is of meager value.”

  - Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes

Mephistopheles is an arcane innovator. His realm, Cania, is essentially a giant laboratory where he conducts extensive experiments. 

When it comes to souls, Mephistopheles prefers quality over quantity. He mostly acquires the souls of highly accomplished wizards and sages to help him with his research. To demand the souls of 7000 vampire spawn seems uncharacteristically beneath him (especially for the power he’s offering) 

My thinking is that Mephistopheles is working on something that specifically requires vampiric energy and lots of it. The 7000 spawns are nothing more than fodder.

A devil’s deal never ends well. This is repeatedly stated throughout the game. Considering what we know of Mephistopheles and how little Cazador cares for his spawn, this whole contract sounds far too good to be true. So what’s the catch?

A few possible ideas as to the downsides:

Mephistopheles is always watching. After all, this is a completely new kind of being that warrants study. 

The Ascendant’s hunger for blood is replaced with a different hunger. A hunger that is indescribable and insatiable. He will always yearn for more. More power, more control, more anything. He may even return to Mephistopheles in an attempt to fill the void. 

The Ascendant’s own soul is included in the price, albeit differently. Where the other souls were simply consumed by the ritual, his will serve another purpose. (Not gonna lie, this one sent me on a whole existential journey trying to figure out what is means to have/lack a soul)

I might post more thoughts later, but this is enough for now

[angelinasnotebooks]

Hate that my form of hyperfixation is consuming and not creating.

I think I've been falling in love with ideas my whole life. I see colors and concepts and characters, and I want every part of the illusion to play around my body and immerse my mind and soul. I thought growing up I would be an artist. When that mentally shattered, I moved on to thinking I would become an author. Now, however, I don't know what or who I'll be. All I know is that my brain never stops coming up with ideas. 

Yet, with all these ideas comes the possibility of creation. It's what I want, isn't it? I want to create these pictures and stories and share them with the world. So, why am I motionless in my pursuit to bring my mind to life? I have a library in my head. There's a girl in there. Her favorite color is blue. She doesn't know if life is worth living. I have an art museum there too. There's a portrait of a dying renegade, and a demon alter ego desiring joy. Then there's the realm of fandoms. The endless multiverse of continuations and alternatives.  

There's a lot going on inside my brain and imagination. Chemicals I do not understand and signals I cannot control. An abundance of beauty only an individual can conjure with their subjectivity. With no outlet for these thoughts and images, I find it all to be too much at times. Wings heavy on my back and flightless under the pressure. The ability to soar is there, but the weight within is burdensome.  

Every day I come up with something new. Some ideas are fresh while others are another line on the loom, but that is all they are. Thoughts. Ideas. Invisible whisps, webs, and wishes. It's as if the only part of my frontal lobe that works is that of imagination and complex thinking. I attempt short stories, painting, studying, chores, school projects, craft projects and I never get them done. Planning, time management, logical reasoning, and decision-making have all taken a backseat. I can't get any of them done, so I turn to what has already been done. 

I rewatch a favorite show. I read another fanfic. I click on a YouTube video and another. I scroll Tumblr. I read character analysis. I try on the clothes in my closet. I add shit to my wish list. I post photos from two months ago on my Instagram. I relate to autistic ADHD tiktokers. I pretend Pinterest will help me get my life together. I think about the MCU. I watch another comfort, crime, haunted, mythical series. I visit my AO3 bookmarks. I doom scroll whatever app I can get my eyes on. I turn thirteen again and either spiral into a depressive state or become infatuated with the Hunger Games--again.

The point is, I can't force my brain to work on the original ideas. Sitting at a desk with supplies doesn't get my hands moving. I fall numb waiting for my body and mind to comply with my intentions. So, I end up here again. Hitting a heart button to let other people know that their commentary and hard work have reached me, and I liked it.  

I don’t want all my ideas and universes to end where they are. I don’t want to minimize or invalidate my existence, or the experiences of others like me, by remaining artistically stagnant. I want my mind to be a visual tangible galaxy free to be roamed and explored. I want to have my heart in my hands, and I want to give it to every single person that I can. I want these thoughts, these precious ideas out of my head and into yours, dear reader. I don't want to consume; I want to create. If I'm going to go down the rabbit hole, I want to be the rabbit. The entrance maker. Not the lost girl I am right now. 

[dangerouslypassiveaggressive]

A Terribly Organized Almost-Essay About Suzanne Collins and Why I Think She Writes

Lukewarm take because it's been years, but here it goes: if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that Suzanne Collins is not a people pleaser. (The author, at least. I don't know her personally lol). And she be pleasing the people, that's not what I mean! I just kept hearing the same question being asked over and over again. "Why Snow? Why him?? Why not anybody else? Really?? A prequel about HIM??" It really made me think.

And don't get me wrong! I'd slash someone's tires for a Finnick prequel just like the next person (Suzanne please!), but that has never been the point of her writing. The Hunger Games novels, and by extension, the prequel book The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, aren't just fun fiction reads. Yeah, they're gripping. The world-building is superb. Young people are at the center of it. And all these characteristics are great, but the thing that draws us in, that keeps us consuming her media like hungry little caterpillars, is that they are, time and time again, a captivating and accurate criticism, analysis, and deconstruction of the broken systems society experiences in the real world. I can only speak from my own experience as a Mexican American woman in the United States, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

The Capitol is colorful and fun and interesting and horrible and sadistic. And it is all those things because it is a symbol of our own real-world 1%, except our own glittering Capitol members here in the real world feed us the hope that we may reach their status if we only work hard enough for long enough. The Hunger Games system never makes that claim. In fact, they are fed the narrative that the system only works because they're stuck where they are. Suzanne Collins is taking everything one step further in her writing because it is a type of satire, a critique of the things we already know. So as an author, she blows it out of proportion so that her reader will say "look at this! How ridiculous! How would someone let the system treat them this way!" And it is ridiculous, it's downright laughable that an entire society, an entire country, would let itself be oppressed in such a cruel way by just a few people in charge instead of rising up and- oh wow, yeah, I see it. She wrote about us.

Suzanne Collins just organized everything neatly into boxes- well, districts. Because every district comes with some form of product that they manufacture, but much more importantly: a class. We go in order from 1-13. District 1 manufactures luxury items and District 2 makes weapons (but mostly trains Peacekeepers), so they have the most privilege and wealth. On the other end, Districts 11 and 12 are the agricultural and coal mining districts, respectively. That's back-breaking work. Not to mention District 11 puts kids as young as 12 to work, and District 12 is poverty-stricken and starving. "But what about District 13?" You may ask, "They make nuclear weapons! Why aren't they up there with 2?" Fantastic question. If we know, and the people of Panem know, that the hierarchy is very clearly set by literal number order, why would one of the most powerful and competent districts be given more power and be put at the top? Placing them at the end lets them believe that they aren't powerful or competent. I mean, jeez, look at 12 and they're before 13? I wouldn't believe I could make it on my own either. (We know now that's not how things go down, but it's a clever power move regardless.)

But after all this, would it hurt Suzanne to give us a single book just for fun?

Yes, I believe it would, that's the whole point. We're not meant to fall for the Peeta/Katniss/Gale love triangle. We're not meant to be interested in Finnick's secrets and early life. We're not meant to want to know the morbid details of how Haymitch won his Games (with double the contestants! Ooh. Aah.) We're meant to be horrified at every turn, at every story. We're meant to ask ourselves how things got so bad, how anyone let this happen. Suzanne Collins has written wonderfully fleshed out characters that grip us and make us want to know more, but the point has never been them or even their loved ones. It was never about Katniss or Prim or Peeta or Finnick or Annie. It's always been about the systems that let this story happen, and where Suzanne got her inspiration: the very real lives we lead. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes shows us the same thing.

So why Coriolanus Snow? Because he is the catalyst to a broken system that only serves the powerful. If Suzanne were to write a novel about any of our much more beloved characters, then she would be writing the exact same book over and over about the same oppression happening in the same system. She does not write for the sake of bringing her very well-written characters to life, but to flesh out the poverty, the starvation, the power struggles, the horrors they experience. We know this because she writes a lot of her characters as symbols. (Coin, for instance, as the symbol for a power-hungry figurehead, or Prim as the innocent during war.)

Snow is living in a slightly different biome than what we know from The Hunger Games series. He has to make sacrifices and decisions for him and his family, but it's different. It is a view and critique from the inside looking in. This is not Katniss getting to experience the Capitol for the first time and understanding just how terribly unfair everything is. This is someone who is very aware of the way things work and playing the game to stay in power and keep their privilege. Not only that, but it's someone who feels entitled to all of it. In this novel, Suzanne plays around with power and people's position in it. What if a mad scientist was in charge? What if the creator of the thing that brought a semblance of peace was just as horrified as the reader? How far is one person willing to go for power? What if we saw the dawn of a world we're already familiar with?

So I hope she keeps writing, because I love seeing our world through her eyes and the parallels she writes from our world to hers of the injustices happening every day. Even though we'll probably never get the stories we crave, but that's okay. Keep putting those kids through hell, Suzanne.