#because even if it lands on top snow does fall in the end

[coccinelle-et-chaton]

i've been listening to Can't Catch Me Now for days now.

it is my entire personality. it has consumed me. i-

the beauty, the rage, the sadness. i am BANGIng my head against the wall, do you understand me? 2023 is for the dystopic girlie reinassance and i feel so ALIVE.

#i need the hunger games like i need air #i need to be put down #i am rabid i am unwell i am not fit for organized society #tbosas #thg #the hunger games #the balad of songbirds and snakes #can't catch me now #olivia rodrigo #i mean do you remember the groundbreaking poetry of safe and sound? we were not worthy. #this is up there. i can't stop i'm so sorry i'm so obsessed with this song and like #how WELL it captures Lucy Gray's legacy. #the ability to make this fucking man hysteric enough that it would be his downfall #a girl like Katniss was always going to come along to deliver the final blow #a girl like Katniss was not just inevitable but like Lucy Gray only a matter of time #because even if it lands on top snow does fall in the end #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #lucy gray baird #katniss everdeen

[chasingwhitebunnies]

I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

#SPOILERS THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES #SPOILERS TBOSAS #THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES SPOILERS #tbosas spoilers #(melted by fire in case my on the nose metaphor was too subtle) #tbosas #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #Dean Highbottom #casca highbottom #Mayfair lipp #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #bobbin TBOSAS #500

[jadewritesficshere]

Shirts

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you notice somethings changed about Steve's dresser (<1k words)

Contains: fluff, no gender description of reader, reader is called Honey

"Hey Steve?" You call, brow furrowed in confusion at the dresser. "Yeah?" Steve yells back from the bathroom. You peer into the dresser drawer," Where are your clothes?"

You can hear Steve turn off the light in the bathroom and the creak of the floorboard as he walks back into his bedroom. "Huh?" Steve appears at your side," Oh."

Steve's dresser drawers were usually stuffed to the brim. You would put the winter stuff away during summer and the summer stuff away during the winter. Unlike you, however, Steve kept his clothes out year round. The more often worn clothes ended up towards the top while the stuff rarely worn kept the bottom drawers full. He was stubborn too, arguing that it was a waste of time when he'd use the clothes again eventually ("Besides, Indiana weather changes so often one day it snows, the next it's so hot, and the next its a tornado. You got to be ready year round Honey").

But now? The drawer you opened had his shirts neatly folded on the left, but nothing on the right. You had peeked into the drawer beneath it and found the same with his pants.

"Made room for your stuff." Steve said it as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he didn't cause your heart to beat faster. As if the most stubborn and routine man you knew didn't just change something to include you in it.

Steve elbowed your side and gave you a grin," Got the winter stuff put away so you can't keep stealing my sweaters." You gasp in mock offense," I did not steal them! I borrowed." "Mmhmm and why is it i still don't have them?" Steve kisses your cheek, letting you know he isn't truly upset.

Steve leaves your side to head to the bed. You grab one of his shirts out of the drawer and pause again," Hey Steve?" "Yeah?" You flip through the shirts, "Why do you have the same exact shirt like...three times?"

"Well, sometimes you like shirts to fit you loosely so I got a shirt that does that. And sometimes you like shirts to be skin tight so I got one like that. And then the shirt that I already owned." Steve wanders back over, lifting each shirt as he mentions them. You can see the one he owned slightly faded compared to the new ones.

"You did that for me?" You can't help the sappy tone. Steve deflects," It's not that much. They had a sale on shirts. Besides, this way I don't have to fend off you and Robin for my own clothes." Steve won't meet your eyes.

Because Steve loves loud and has been called too much. Has been told it was "a lot". And he doesn't want to see that in your eyes. But if he looked up all he would see would be adoration. Love.

"Steve that's," you clear your throat," That's the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me." Steve's head snaps up to look at you. Whatever he's searching for in your eyes he must find, because you can see the tension fall from his shoulders.

"Well, I'll have to think of more things to top that." Steve grins at you. You smile back, heart beating fast. Your stomach alight with butterflies. You quickly change your shirt into one of his. Steve's eyes watching you the entire time sending shivers down your spine.

You walk over to where he is sitting on the bed, smiling down at him. "I love you." You declare as you thread a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I love you more." Steve counters, a hand landing on your hip.

"I love you most," You beam down at him. "Impossible." Steve wraps his arms around you and yanks you onto the bed with him. You shriek before laughing as you both land on the bed on your sides.

Steve pulls you closer, his nose lightly nudging yours. "I love you so much words can't even describe it." Steve murmurs, looking into your eyes," Just hope i can show it." "You do."

Steve's lips lightly brush yours. Soft. Sweet. His grip tightens on you as your kisses become more firm, more passionate. He nips at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth.

And as you kiss you can't help but feel overcome by the love you feel. And as your clothes end up haphazardly on the ground, you can't help but feel loved. And as Steve murmurs praises and holds you close, you know he feels the same.

#Surprise two things dropping at once #This isn't that long...but I need him #I also need to be held but thats besides the point #Can we talk about his hands like have yall seen his hands how big and- #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington/you #Steve Harrington/reader #Jade Is Talking

[stellar-skyy]

Hellooo!! May I please request Зима as a lover? Just sweet fluff with how he caught feelings, how he expresses his love, silly things about him, headcanons, etc. I hope this wasn't too confusing and I'm super sorry if I broke one of the rules, you can just ignore this if I did. Thank you so much nevertheless!!

WINTER ADRIFT — Zima x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Zima as a lover. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: Fluff, so fluffy, headcanons, gn!reader, 0.7k words. iv. A/N: Hiii anon!! I was really happy to write this, I love this silly little man. Thank you for the request! ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ

Zima is a very serious looking person. He doesn’t smile often, his words are few and far between, and when he does speak it is quiet and under his breath.

Despite this somewhat intimidating appearance, Zima is a very soft person at heart. He adores his little bird, his notebooks filled with scribbled poetry and other writings, and of course you. 

You, who appeared in his life as quickly as rainfall, bringing a certain light that he’d never experienced before. You, who split his life into two: the Before, and the After.

Before, he was a lonely poet wandering the Far East, with no one but wild animals to keep him from complete isolation. There was only his bird, his poems. It was a quiet life, one that let loneliness seep in far too quickly for his liking, but it was predictable and calm.

And then came the After. Before, he didn’t mind the solitude. But After—After, he couldn’t bear it, because he’d finally gotten a taste of what it was like to not be alone.

Zima’s days turned from sitting still for hours, writing diligently in his notebook, to walking alongside you through trees, watching the snow fall against his windows together, and baking bread in a kitchen far too small for two.

He fell for you very quickly, even if it took a while for him to realize it. It was only when he reflected upon his notebook and its contents, and noticed the sheer amount of writings dedicated to you. He doesn’t quite focus on his work after he’s penned it, so it was easy enough for the poems to be composed and then tucked away into his mind without realizing how many of them were a reflection on his feelings towards you.

By the time the two of you were properly together, he had already written enough to spill the contents of his heart ten times over.

He’s a very early riser, so he always ends up waking up before you. When he wakes up, he likes to look over at you; to watch your chest rise and fall in a careful rhythm, and observe the way your lips slightly part with every puff of breath. He’ll brush a hand over your forehead first, moving any loose strands of hair out of the way, before pressing a quick kiss to it.

Physical affection isn’t easy for him—in fact, he’s rather shy about it. He would prefer to hold your hand or chastely kiss your cheek rather than be overly affectionate, but if you ask for a hug or kiss, he won’t refuse.

(He gives amazing hugs. Just tight enough to feel secure without being restricting, and warm enough to keep away the winter chill.)

Even if he wants to shower you in sweet words and compliments, he isn’t flawless in the language and sometimes his speech fails him. Talking out loud is more difficult than writing, so the loving compliments he does give you are to be treasured.

Instead of words, he leaves you with gifts. A poem, dedicated to you. Wildflowers, picked from the snow and tied together with a ribbon. Baked foods, each more delicious than the last.

He’ll spend hours with you, not talking, just existing in the same space as him. If you sit with him long enough, you’ll be able to hear quiet mumbles under his breath as he becomes fully absorbed in his writing.

He knew he loved you as soon as the animals became as comfortable around you as they were around him. It began with his bird, who despite being all but glued to his side ever since they had met, decided to land on top of your head and settle in your hair. Next came the rabbits, and the ferrets, and then all of the rest of the creatures.

Those animals were his companions, his friends. It was inevitable they would love you just as much as he did, and seeing them warm up to you so quickly was only further proof that you were the one for him.

Seeing you sitting there, with his bird nestled into the crook of your neck, a fox curled on your lap and an elk resting at your side…

He can’t think of a moment where he’s felt more content.

“Hmm? What are you smiling about?”

“Ah… it is nothing… you simply look… perfect."

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #st. pavlov foundation #reverse 1999 x reader #r1999 x reader #reverse 1999 x gender neutral reader #reverse 1999 x gn reader #r1999 x gn reader #r1999 x gender neutral reader #r1999 zima x reader #zima x reader #reverse 1999 zima x reader #r1999 fluff #reverse 1999 fluff

[catindabag]

In your opinion what would be snows gay or bi awakening lol

In the books, I think Coryo is too depressed (he is) and too stressed (he is) and too mentally unstable (he is) to really think about love (the sincere kind of love), friendships, and bi/gay awakenings.

He does feel things like pain, sadness, anxiety, and desire. However, his childhood war traumas (the horrific 2 year Capitol siege by the rebels that almost starved everyone to death), hunger (physical and psychological), and early losses in life (the death of his parents and other financial problems) were great factors that shaped him to be as cold as his name.

We also have to understand that he was raised in the Capitol. He was raised in a place that was ruthless and merciless to those who don’t have money, power, or status. If you don’t belong or have no relations/connections with one of the “Old Guards” like the Ravinstills, Heavensbees, or Creeds, then you’re a “loser nobody” who has no place or future in the Capitol.

Propaganda was also everywhere (and I mean everywhere). Sympathizing with the rebels who almost starved and eradicated your people to death is a great no no. This also applies to those who secretly aided and supported the rebels.

Don’t forget, the punishment was so severe as well. Either you die a horrible death or you get turned into an Avox. Die or suffer. Those are your only options if you get caught helping a rebel or even know someone who aligned themselves with rebel sympathizers.

So I understand that Snow had to be selfish AF and put great importance to his and his family’s self-preservation and ambitions no matter the cause, reason, or outcome. And because most people in the Capitol will also choose to put themselves first before others. Heck. Being ruthless and selfish are a form of mercy to one’s tragic self if you live in a country like Panem.

Is it wrong to think like that? To most readers who value goodness and love, yes. However, for those who survived a horrific war, no, not really. And for those who are constantly starving or suffering, no. Sometimes hunger will drive anyone (and I mean anyone) to madness. Even the best of us will be tempted to commit such grave sins in order to survive and live a comfortable life.

In addition, we can’t deny that Snow was living in a cruel society where one mistake will cause you and your whole family’s life and reputation. So a poor Coryo had to pretend that everything was splendid and his life was perfect (like most of his rich classmates) because the House of Snow must not fall. It must always land on top.

Moreover, I believe that pretending and performing are one of Coryo’s strongest coping mechanisms when facing the harshness of reality. In a way, you could say that Snow would rather live and accept his crazy delusions than face the consequences of his actions. If not, he might’ve ended up being sent to the gallows or being turned into an Avox.

Even in the books, when Snow was sent back to the Capitol to meet with Dr. Gaul, there was a part of him that screamed and believed that he and his family would be severely punished. He was even in the verge of accepting his “Avox fate” for the mistakes he made while serving as a Peacekeeper in D12.

So is Coriolanus Snow capable of sincerely loving someone above himself? His childhood war traumas, mental instabilities, ambitions, self-preservation, and depression say NO.

Was Snow in love with Lucy Gray? His lonely life and delusional mind say yes, but he’s too afraid of love and just wants power after experiencing one horrible breakup. So no.

Let’s just say that love is the death of power/ambitions/glory and Snow chose the latter in order to survive and thrive.

Was Sejanus Plinth in love with Snow? Yes. Definitely. I won’t question it.

Did Coryo have feelings for Sejanus? I believe that a tiny part of his cold heart will say yes, but his confused AF mind and “rebel allergies” say no.

But these are just my thoughts and opinions anyway. Lol. I specialize in writing and editing crack!AUs. Not angst.

But I do read a lot of psychological & mental health books, Greek tragedies, historical literature, and crime stories.

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow #hunger games #thg #the hunger games #just my opinion #random thoughts #snowjanus #snowplinth #snowbaird #suzanne collins #thg series #thg fandom #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus x lucy gray

[soaringeag1e]

Christmas Boredom

Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language?, A Mix of Sadness and Fluffiness

Words: 782

Main Masterlist - Patreon

A light dusting of snow was leftover from a bit of snowfall earlier in the week, but nothing that jeopardized the roads too much. Christmas was right around the corner and honestly, it felt different this year. In a good way though. A really good way.

Needing some things for dinner and just a few things to stock up the cabinets at home, you had run out to the store along with a trip to the post office and stopping for gas plus a few other things that came to mind while you were out. Needless to say, instead of spending just a couple hours out and about, you were gone for more than five hours. But you felt accomplished, your to-do list was now crossed off.

Once you pulled down your street, you admired all the decorations that your neighbors have been putting up over the past few weeks, loving how creative a lot of them were. It’s only when your eyes catch a certain batch of new decor that you become a bit shocked.

Pulling into your driveway, you can’t take your eyes off the roof as you put your car in park. Leaving the groceries for the moment, you climb out, your eyes glued to the top of your house as you walk a little closer. Your smile slowly comes back along with an excitement within you as you look over the string of lights that somehow just decided to blanket your house for the season.

“I can’t tell if you’re in the Christmas spirit or if you’re just bored!” Those gorgeous green eyes you love so much eventually pop out from behind a large snowflake decoration that’s standing tall on the shingles and then something else you love joins them. That damn smirk of his.

“Uh…both!” The man admits before securing the snowflake for good and then he turns to climb off the roof. You know he’s perfectly capable of doing such a task, but the thought of him falling still makes you nervous.

When his boots land on solid ground, he turns, his smile growing as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, melting your heart and probably even the snow around you.

“Hi.” his gruff voice sends shivers down your spine and always has. You love it just as much as you love him.

“Hi.” When your eyes go to scan his handy work, his green orbs drop to the snow at your feet before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to not look up weird things or to check the news for suspicious activity?” Your expression softens. “I mean…I am trying so hard but it’s just…” he huffs, slapping a hand to his thigh as he scans the neighborhood.

Feeling his struggle, you step forward and place your hands on his cheeks. He seems too ashamed to look you in the eye at first, but eventually he does. But you can see how bad he’s beating himself up for all this.

“I want this.” he admits, his voice coming off crackly. “I really do. I want you to know that.”

“I do know that.” you tell him, your voice as soft as your touch. But he still hates himself for struggling with the normal life.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you tell him, a little more firmly. Your hands press a little tighter on his face as you force him to look at you once again. “It’s hard. I know it is and I am so proud of you.” he scoffs, not because he doesn’t believe you but because you know that he doesn’t think there’s anything for you to be proud of. “Hey. You’re doing better than you think.” He tries to hide his eye roll, but you know him too well. “One day at a time.”

“I just don’t want to let you down.” Hearing that hits you hard. Your chest starts to hurt and tears instantly fill your eyes.

“You’re not.” you tell him as strongly as you can, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be. “I swear to you that you’re not.” With tears in both your eyes, Dean leans in again, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Now…” you get out when he takes a second to breathe, getting him to hold off on another kiss. “If you end up going on a hunt and lie to me about it? That’s a different story.” That’s what brings his grin back.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Damn straight you won’t. Because you’ll be taking me with you.” Dean’s smile grows before he captures your lips again.

“That’s my girl.”

#Christmas Boredom #Merry Christmas #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader christmas #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine

[moreespressoformydepresso]

So I just realized something. More accurately I had a thought and I’m now typing it out hoping this isn’t a very commonly known Hunger Games factoid or something that I was too stupid to see earlier. This is the cornucopia from the 75th hunger games:

Now, maybe I’m insane. That’s a very real possibility, as is evidenced by this whole blog and its contents. However…

Is it just me or does this kinda resemble rubble?

Mental, shiny, and very stylized though it may be, it kind of looks like slabs of something that fell from above and landed in a pile. It only vaguely resembles a cornucopia. The end of an actual cornucopia sticks fully into the air, with nothing below it supporting it because the weight of whatever food’s inside holds the front down. This cornucopia has at least one metal thing standing up to “support” the metal slabs creating the tail end. There’s also a piece of metal sticking into the air a bit away from the tail, making it look a little less cornucopia-shaped and a little more… natural looking? Like the metal was dropped from the sky and the gamemakers let it remain where it fell. It looks a lot like, say, a ceiling that collapsed and had several beams fall conveniently in the middle of the island. Just spitballing here…

For reference, this is the cornucopia from the 74th games:

It’s a lot more simple and I do mean a lot. Very clearly a cornucopia, kind of pointy for “aesthetics” but still one shape. The tail is completely off the ground and nothing’s really sticking out of it. It has angles, yes, but they’re very clearly there to make it a little more stylish. It’s smooth and clearly man-made.

Now, you could argue that the 75th cornucopia was meant to look more special because it’s essentially an all-stars season for the child murder games. The tributes were celebrities in the most fucked up way ever, so of course the cornucopia was gonna be flashy, but the 50th games had a gold cornucopia so I’m sure the gamemakers could have come up with something more fancy. A bejeweled cornucopia or something, with gemstones and a more expensive look to it.

However, as we all know, the whole point of the third quarter quell was to kill Katniss. What was Katniss for Snow again? Right, the memory of Lucy Gray coming back to haunt him more than five decades after her disappearance. In that context, him trying to kill Katniss is like him trying to kill Lucy Gray’s ghost in the arena. The same place he saved her from all those years ago, an action that nearly cost him his future. Now look at this image:

A bunch of slabs laid on top of each other that vaguely resemble the shape of a cornucopia. To me, the cornucopia from the 75th Hunger Games kind of looks like a metal, shiny, stylized version of this. Even that bit of metal sticking in the air away from the tail kind of looks like the rubble from the 10th games, which has two large chunks of ceiling sticking into the air. Almost like the gamemakers were intentionally trying to replicate the 10th games, but with the vibes of the later games. Focused on performance, which is an element inspired by Lucy Gray.

Was Snow trying to symbolically kill Lucy Gray’s ghost by replicating the cornucopia she climbed on top of (in the movies) which led to her victory? Only to have her die from it this time around since the threats all start at the cornucopia?

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #10th hunger games #tbosas #hunger games #75th hunger games #74th hunger games #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #movie analysis #analysis #I’m reaching so hard please don’t judge #i thought of this while searching pictures of the 10th arena for a drawing and this is what i got instead #snow is a bitch he would totally so this

[jessicashome]

thoughts after tbosas movie (severe waffling!! with spoilers)

FIRST OF ALL!!!! ik like being british vs american (panem was north america) has some pronounciation differences but ive been saying their names so differently!!!! like ive been using soft As for the Anus brothers but its actually Anus so thats crazy.

next its very different to how i imagined, obviously they cut out so much (which is making me Need to read the og hunger games) but without coryos constant dialogue, i think more people are gonna fall into sympathising with him.

everything was also just so much more larger, like in my head the snake tank was as big as a fish tank not like all the snakes she was gonna drop into the games. the arena was sorta smaller than i imagined. the beam that i pictured lamina on was metal not concrete/stone. marcus :((( obvs the watches changed to screens. the origin of rat poison is different.

THE PRONOUNCIAtion OF TIGRIS!!!! and grandmaam was so much kinder than how i imagined.

i sort of wish we saw coryos inner dialogue because i feel like its a bit confusing to new people without it.

also like why r they dealing with jabber jays (dr gaul does make a brief mention but that was such a small detail thats so easy to miss).

for me seeing it as a movie solidified how evil he is because how could he do nothing seeing sejanus up there like😭. VISUALLY seeing him have a STRAIGHT face during that was heartwrenching.

from the book, i thought casca was actually so weird for having such a grudge against him but i see why now. not exactly justified but given the way he is bringing more 'life' to the games when casca's actively trying to kill them is understandable. THE WAY SNOW KILLED HIM??? crazyyy. Snow Lands On Top

hunter schafer ATE!!!!! like the "you look just like your father" omgg after she told him that she always saw hate in his eyes. shes so good. also from what i remember in the book he didnt even like his father why does he want to be like him in the movie😭😭 wish we saw his love for his mother a bit more

the way lucy's footsteps disappear LIKE BOOK CRUMBS! or like i guess it may have been mentioned in the lyrics of the folk song when she was singing but still so cool.

THE HOBB IS MASSIVE.

aLSO i think the movie goes down the route of snow being veryyy paranoid at the end. because her voice is echoing like it does at the hobb, i doubt her actual voice and singing would sound like that from the jabber jays? so was that actually her or his paranoia making things up?? yes shes actually gone (run off) but never truly gone from his life. the way he thought he shot her😭😭😭

i personally think they did love each other but snow strayed way past that line of good. dr gauls ideologies corrupted him (well like that lie about humans at their core being evil). he had his prejudices from the beginning but there were times he was good. idk he believed he was good when he was helping lucy gray but then he also had his ulterior motives for that so it made it all muddy. he says its for her but also for the money and in the end he chooses money.

anyways coriolanus snow is a bitch!!! a handsome one but still a bitch. bro went "IM SO SORRY IM SO SORRY" like what the hell u quite literally had him killed. bitchass man 🖕🖕🖕🖕

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #i am haunted by what happened to lucy gray baird #tbosas #tigris snow #tbosas spoilers

[bobfloydsbabe]

Oh! How about snowball fights with Bob + Imogen? They have taken up my whole heart these days! ❄️ ✨

Rebecca, your love for Bob and Immy makes me so damn happy, and this is such a cute idea. I imagine it takes place sometime during The Holiday Truce where, as you know, Imogen ends up spending the week because of a massive snowfall.

winter vibes prompts open for: eccentric professor bob, librarian bob, mob boss bob, and rhett abbott

“These boots are way too big,” she complains for the fifth time in as many minutes. If she didn’t look so cute wearing his clothes, he might have told her to shut up already. If she wasn’t so damn sexy without clothes, he definitely would have told her to shut up.

“Robert,” she whines, trying to keep up with his steady pace through the snow. “Wait for me.”

He stops, holding back a frustrated groan.

“Snow is the worst. It’s cold and wet,” she tells him, “but good to throw at the infuriating professor.”

Something hard and cold hits the back of his head, making him stumble forward, and Imogen’s laugh follows quickly behind. He turns around, brushing melting snow off his hair, and sees her gathering another snowball.

Acting on pure instinct, he bends down and gathers a snowball of his own. He sends it through the air, but it flies right past her head and lands with a disappointing thud.

“Missed me,” she mocks and tosses her second lump of snow. It hits him on the shoulder where it shatters, and stray snow hits his face.

She laughs, and it’s a sound he’ll never tire of, even when she’s laughing at him.

His next snowball grazes her shoulder while hers hits dangerously close to his crotch. That’s the moment he decides he’s had enough and runs after her. She tries to flee, but those boots that are too big for her make it a clumsy attempt, and he easily tackles her to the ground.

They fall into a heap of laughter and big winter jackets with Bob on top. He meets her dark doe eyes full of genuine joy, and he can’t remember the last time he enjoyed being with someone so much. His irritation from mere minutes ago is gone.

“You have terrible aim, Professor,” she says while trying to catch her breath.

“Do I now?” he mutters, leaning down close until his lips brush against her ear. “I seem to recall you saying I hit the right spot every time.”

When he looks at her again, he can’t tell if the redness in her cheeks is from the cold or her blushing.

She grabs the front of his jacket and crashes their lips together. He’s not sure how long they stay like that, just kissing and tasting each other, but when they go back inside, they can’t get out of their clothes fast enough.

#mail #answered #ryebecca #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x oc #eccentric professor bob #professor bob #professor bob thots #bob floyd fic #tgm fic #oc: imogen van doren #otp: bob x imogen #fic: gold rush

[ystrike1]

Winter Wolf - By 순무 (sunmu) (8.5/10)

The aftermath of a civil war. A bloody revolution. A lonely mansion in the snow. The setting for this story is very unique, and isolation is a key theme. The two lovers here are one part of a larger, sadder story.

Lyshteia is a noble woman known for her red hair, which is the symbol of her family. That family is no more. Lyshteia is not a bad person, but her parents chose the wrong side of a revolution. They were punished. Assassinated off screen before their daughter could marry. Lyshteia was betrothed to the handsome Prince Jude, but sadly he also chose the wrong side. Lyshteia's family and fiance died in quick succession, and she was left with nothing. Not even information.

It seems like poor Lyshteia wasn't included in the plan, but she is being punished as well. Her life as a noble woman is gone. She has one relative left. An aunt across the sea. She has to somehow get there, and find another husband. The setting of this story is extremely gritty. There's no magic. The revolution toppled powerful noble families one after another, because in this world a mob is stronger than any sword.

The story begins here, in the woods. Lyshteia is looking for an information broker named Terren. She doesn't trust brokers. She's been burned by a few and she has no money left. Her horse abandons her, and she wanders through wolf infested land until she finds his residence.

Terren is a handsome man, who is also a realist. He says she is trapped. She is at the end of her rope. The winter season is bitter this particular year. He can't take her to the sea port. It is frozen over. Ships cannot pass. The very last ships are leaving in three days, and there is no possible way for her to sneak on.

She's stuck with him.

He taunts her, as if he wants to test her. Terren just told her that she's stuck in wolf territory with a man she doesn't know. In the dead of winter, with revolutionary soldiers on her tail. There is an assassin hunting for Lyshteia and the few nobles that are left.

Lyshteia makes a solid offer. If he doesn't kill her or throw her out he will be rewarded when she meets her aunt.

Lyshteia has been through alot. She has barely escaped death by mob stomping several times. She had to travel alone during the beginning of winter as well. She had to sell off all of her possessions just to get across the country. Just to get another inch closer to the port.

She's not going to give up now.

His teasing doesn't affect her much. She's afraid, but she doesn't cry.

Terren mentions her noble manners and her beauty. He says she needs to forget useless things like manners. In this setting being noble means you are a target. Lyshteia says she literally doesn't know how to act like a commoner. She was engaged to a prince, after all. There's really no point in pretending. She is well known for her hair, and she doesn't trust anybody anymore.

She would rather be alone, but she thinks Terren is handsome. She has been lonely and scared for a long time. After some flirting (that feels suspicious for some reason) they have sex.

Terren doesn't seem like a nice guy. The plot twist is kind of obvious. When Lyshteia confesses to him she saves her own life. His real name is Ian. He was hired by the leader of the revolution. His work name is Phantom. He has been paid top dollar to kill everyone left with noble blood. He doesn't kill Lyshteia because of a series of coincidences, and her passionate confession. Lyshteia is a tough woman. She's his type. Ian is willing to risk it all to save her.

He also slaughters some of his own employees and allies to protect her. The former future queen is a big target. An expensive one. If he won't kill her somebody else will. He teaches her how to use a gun, and his act falls apart. Lyshteia becomes suspicious of him, but they still have lots of sex.

The plot gets thick. Lyshteia does make it to her aunt's house, but she is damaged goods. She is no longer queen material. Her aunt tries to marry her off to an old man, because of her damaged past. Ian comes for her. He whisks her away from her shitty life as a princess. She becomes a kindergarten teacher, and he's a very devoted husband. He leaves the assassin life behind for her as well I think. He definitely becomes happier. They are genuinely a good couple, but I was worried for a second there. Ian doesn't have normal common sense. He's overly practical. I would call him a lighter yandere, but he does do alot of killing for her. The easiest option was beheading her after sex and taking the bounty. Helping her and loving her was a massive risk for Ian. He's not some guy with superpowers. He's just a guy with a gun, so his devotion feels very sincere and also unhinged. There's no judge or jury here. Ian could have been murdered for helping her, but he did it anyway.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Winter Wolf #historical romantic fiction #historical romance

[sweeteastart]

💫KHOCWEEK 2023💫

Day 2 - New World

@khoc-week

Sika

Who's this but my girl Sika ! A bit about this drawing :

Sika is a very free spirited and adventurous teen. She loves to ran right into the unknown without looking back. With this joyful but impulsive personality of her's, who else than Terra could ground her yet still let her enjoy the experience ?

I can easily picture Sika insisting they land on Lilo's and Stitch world to see the beautiful scenery. Terra obviously would end up folding because he relates to her sheltered childhood and wants her to experience new thing.

This piece was quite a challenge for me as I never ventured to drawing lilo and stitch before ahah

Bunny

The routine of the Vulpes union was all around rather boring for teenagers : taking note of the day's mission, going into some world they already visited hundreds of times before, collecting the bare minimum of lux and going back home black and blue from the fights against various heartless. Bunny couldn't say she hated it.

After all, once in a while, she could team up with her brother or friends. It was always fun to spend time with either even if the whole fighting for her life part wasn't the most relaxing. She felt stuck in a way in this rut, this ever ending circle that never stopped. For years now she has led this existence. The girl wasn't even fifteen and she already felt bored of the responsibilities and expectations everyone had of her.

Walking down a flowery path, she couldn't help but glance at her surroundings. This forest was simply breathtaking. Greenery upon greenery grew out of control, savage yet surreal in its beauty. She wondered when was the last time she came about such a beautiful world before. In the little time she had been exploring, she had seen numerous sceneries. Most were gorgeous… Well, really, all of them were for a child who grew up in a small coastal town.

Her eyes followed the tree seams, the grass paths, the little leaves falling from the sky. She was hypnotized. The nature was calm, birds singing far away. A new and foreign place. That's when she heard it. The splash of water. The slight rustling of someone nearby.

Her instincts kicked in before she even thought about it. Silently, heels barely touching the dirt, she moved towards the sounds. She had nailed the silent walk a while back. It was always a blessing to take vermin by surprise. It also made the job easier when she ran into trouble.

Before she saw her, her voice blessed her ears. The voice of an angel. Loud and clear, a song coming straight from a pure heart.

Jet black hair, as deep as crown feathers. It draped around her fair skin and round face like water. A soft face, smooth like a baby. Long ink coloured lashes stretched out to the infinity just on top of her deep eyes. It was like staring at the night sky during a new moon. The light twinkled in her big, doe eyes as she gazed toward Bunny.

If she didn't know any better, the Keyblade wielder would have thought of her as a goddess who descended straight to earth. Naively, unaware of the danger of a stranger suddenly appearing, the kid smiled largely.

"Hi" she said, a hand still in the river's cold water. "Who might you be ?"

For a moment, Bunny didn't know what to say. So she didn't. She opened then shut her mouth numerous times before words finally came to her. "Bunny"

It was all she could muster yet the girl who looked barely thirteen laughed. Not in a locking way but a loving way. Only with that, this little thing, the wielder knew she wanted to protect this smile.

"Happy to meet you, Bunny. My name's Snow white."

And there's my day 2 ! Soo I decided to do two character per day for this year one with an illustration and one with a little text ! I hope it's now too terrible ahah sorry if the text wonky, it was pretty much a last moment addition and English isn't my first language

#it was a doozy but lets go #rushing a bit here as im LATE #ahah my schedule is a mess but ill make it work somehow #kingdom hearts #kh #sweeteastart #dessin #drawing #dibujo #kh oc #original character #au #khocweek2023

[wood-white-writer]

“In the Land of the Blind” [Chapter II]

“In the Land of the Blind, the One-Eyed Man is King,”

Pairing: Silco x Doctor Toxicologist!Reader

Summary: Silco returns with his beloved, mischievous, but deeply troubled daughter.

Read the AO3 version here | > Chapter III

The air feels cold as it kisses your nose; the first signs that winter is around the corner. The edges of the river have already been frozen over to a thin layer of solid, but not quite strong yet as to permit anyone to walk safely across it. A curtesy provided by the night, and a reason for most people to remain inside in the comforts of warmth, for those who can afford it, that is.

Across the river, you’re able to spot red embers flicker from some of the windows of the Piltovan households. Fireplaces, no doubt. A source of security and relaxation amidst the chilling seasonal change. To them, the snow brings joy. To the Undercity, it signifies that a harsher period is upon them. It’s more of a hazard than anything, and the unlucky ones who don’t possess the luxury of heaters will need to pull together whatever resources available just to make it through to the next day. It’s no different than their regular routines, but the survival rates are going to significantly drop the next couple of months.

The last time you were this close to the bridge, the waters beneath had been coated with a thick layer of red.

You pull up a cigarette to rest between your teeth and flicker your lighter to ignite. The wind picks up and makes it difficult for the light to surface, but with no small amount of indignation from your part, the tip of the cigarette finally lights up and a whisper of smoke ascends. The first inhale makes you feel lighter; more at ease in your circumstances. The memory of Silco visiting your place filed away to a long-forgotten memory.

Sure, your cigarettes aren’t of the fancy kind, but they work well enough. “Regent”, the brand is called. Renowned for being a local produce. The taste is excruciating and leaves your throat bone-dry with each breath, but you don’t have a lot at your disposal to choose from, even with your adequate income. It’s between this brand of cigarettes, the higher-than-thou brands accessible from Piltover, or the kind Vander had imported from Bilgewater that threatens to shrivel your throat from the inside-out. “Regent” doesn’t offer the same calming effects as the sedatives you have available, but they help ease your mood on particularly bad days well enough.

Such as this one.

Following Silco’s departure, you’ve stayed up for the remainder of the day until the wee hours of the morning, tinkering and experimenting with your latest shipments. Adequate sleep in the Lanes usually comes short to most people, but in terms of your own schedule, it’s chronic at this point.

Sleep has never been on the top of your priority-list anyway, primarily because your work demands a good portion of your time, and secondarily because you can afford to lose a few hours. It took some time to get used to the routine at first when you first settled in, and when you were a kid, you would more than often wake up to find your father still huddled up in his (currently your) lab whenever there was a project he was too invested in.

Seems like the apple doesn’t fall far from the three on some parts after all.

You flick the burnt end of the cigarette off and silently resign yourself to your fate.

Silco will be back, and this time, he’ll bring Powder with him. Or Jinx, as he was adamant she will be called from now on. You have no context behind the change of name, and you could care less. The matter at hand was that if things go smoothly, then it’s a safe bet that he’ll be stopping by on a regular basis now. Either that, or he’ll send someone else – likely that woman who accompanied him earlier.

What were you even going to say to Powder about all of this? Does she even know about the part Silco played in her family’s death, or is she a victim to the same blissful naivety that childhood usually grants? You don’t know which you prefer between them.

Children in general have never your forte. You’ve had clients stop by to purchase medication for their children long before Vander’s boots graced your doorstep, but whatever information you’ve provided, the parents are always there to receive it in full detail. You doubt it will be much different this time, but you can’t help but ponder on how to approach the subject.

You never had much to do with Vander’s kids. Couldn’t be bothered. Hell, you can scarcely recall their names save for Powder’s. You remembered she had an older sister - Violet? - that stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd with her pink hair and penchant for getting into trouble. A trait she inevitably got from the Hound. If Powder was here, be it alone or with Vander, then there was a high chance her sister would be there to accompany her as well.

There were also two boys, you recall, but they never stopped by and it suited you just fine. According to the short and one-sided interactions Vander would initiate when he stopped by to pick up something, whether it was bandages or disinfectant following his oldest daughter’s endeavors, he would talk about them. Granted, you deliberately ignored him for the most part, but there was one thing he said that unintentionally stuck with you.

“Those kids are gonna change the world one day, I tell ‘ya,”

The memory makes you nauseous. Some world they changed.

A piece of your mind reprimands you for the dangerous, not to mention inexplicably stupid, decisions you’ve made. Why did you do it in the first place? To honor the ghost of a man you once knew? Fuck, you could hardly stand him as it was when he was alive, so why commit yourself to his memory now? You’re not responsible for him, nor for that kid. Powder isn’t your baggage to handle and maintain. Never has been. There are a thousand different children like her who’ve suffered at much worser fates, so why go through with it?

For honor?

For self-preservation?

Is it a means to get closure, is that it?

You have the option to run, of course, but where can you go? You’ve known nothing more than the bare view of the Lanes in all your years of life; born and raised. Piltover could be a safe haven, if they’ll even accept you, but somehow you doubt it’s inaccessible to Silco. The man has enough money to burn, and the tools to make your life more challenging than it already is. At least the money he’ll give you will grant you access to sustainable heat come winter.

Besides, he just wants you to have a look at the girl and get her some medicine. That’s it. It’s not like you’re one of his employees hired to answer his every beck and call. Also, he’ll pay you generously for your service, and with that amount of money from that kind of man, it can improve and impair your like in equal measure. You can always say no and tell him to go to someone else, but you’re already aware of the potential – likely – repercussions of that.

You stare at the reflective water beneath the docks, and see your own reflection looking passively back at you.

You don’t have to like this, but if you want to live, you don’t really have a choice.

With a sour scoff, you throw the remainder of the cigarette into the waters and retreat back to the hellhole that is your home.

---

Silco returns at precisely 9 pm, and he’s accompanied by the same henchwoman as the night before. In addition, however, there’s a streak of blue hair concealed behind his coat, peeking out from the safe harbors of his legs ever so slightly until her eyes lands on you.

You’re about to call her name – her true name – but you stop yourself seconds before the words have a chance to escape. Something has changed about her; she looks older somehow, but it doesn’t correlate with her physical appearance. The bags under her eyes appear ancient, and something’s been dimmed from those bright irises, disintegrated like ashes in a pyre.

In a way, you can already make a guess as to what’s happened: like so many children before their time, she’s lost a piece of herself. Been exposed to the cruel reality that usually hits children older than her by a few years. You were older than her when the initial cataclysm first struck, yet somehow you doubt that hers is tied directly to Silco, or she wouldn’t have been her otherwise clinging to him like that.

But she’s alive. You’ve done Vander that solid one, if it even counts for anything at all. She’s with the enemy now, so to speak, and judging with the way she’s glued to him like a puppy on a lash rather than fighting her way out of his hold as you initially anticipated, she’s here on her own volition.

Eyes narrowed with no small amount of indignation and scarred lips parting slightly, Silco is barely able to utter a syllable before the girl behind him suddenly perks up and yelps, “It’s you!”

You blink in astonishment before your expression morphs back to cautious passiveness, inclining your head her way to mimic a greeting. “It’s been a while.” Again, you bury the urge to call her name. For what it’s worth, she recognizes you, if only by a little bit.

She nods once, then tugs a little firmer around the edge of Silco’s overcoat. “Are you going to get me fixed?”

You’re about to answer when Silco promptly scowls at you, subtly challenging you to say something that’ll give him a reason to dispose of you.

At this rate, you’re more annoyed than wary.

You shake your head. “No, I’m not,”

“Then what are you going to do?” She asks, seemingly a little more at ease now with the way her shoulders visibly slack.

“We’re just going to do some light checks. Nothing different than what we’ve done before,” you explain as simply as you can. Adapting your medical approach to a child is the equivalent of forcing your vocabulary to regress to a fetal state. “That way, I’ll be able to properly evaluate and assess whether I have something that could potentially—”

Powd-- Jinx frowns and points an offended finger towards you, which successfully renders you momentarily mute.

“You’re using too many hard words! Again!” She exclaims, and it almost makes it seem like the roles in this scenario have been reversed. "I told you last time! Talk easier! Nobody gets what you're saying but you!"

It might be your imagination, but you're willing to bet your entire career that both Silco and his henchwoman are discreetly smirking from the sidelines.

This is exactly why you’ve rarely nurtured the thought of having children yourself.

Sure, Jinx understood the mechanic behind her gadgetry well enough but still struggled with advanced words? Talk about selective learning.

You have to grit your teeth to remind yourself that it won't do well to backtalk a literal toddler with her very powerful - very murderous - parental figure present in the room to observe the interaction.

“Fine," you force out a little too firmly. "What it means, I’ll see if I have something that can help you,”

She finally nods in understanding, looking a little too prideful for her age, before her eyes brighten up again. With less than a second to spare, she has already made her way up to the table and is looking at you with literal stars in her irises. “Do you still have snakes around here?”

“Not any live ones at the moment, no,"

She pouts in disappointment but presses on. “Spiders?”

“No,”

“Flowers?”

“A few,”

"Dangerous ones?"

"I wouldn't recommend eating them at any rate,"

"Do you still have the Ionian Zychids?"

"They'll arrive next shipment,"

Movement in the corner of your eyes has you snapped out of the very interesting conversation with the kid. Right, the kingpin is still there, watching you like a hawk about to prey down on his next meal. He looks intrigued, if not a tad bit suspicious. “What’s this about snakes and flowers I hear?” he asks, searching you for clarification.

But Jinx is all too happy to answer in your stead. “She keeps all sorts of odd things and flasks in the back! I saw it once! It was so weird!”

Ah, yes, she’s referring to the dreaded incident that occurred a few years back. Vander had just stopped by to get some more medicine, with his kid following suit. This one time, when your back was turned for two seconds, she managed to sneak into your lab downstairs. By the time you noticed her absence and put the pieces together, she had managed to unravel two whole days, and nights, worth of carefully organized, alphabetized work.

Apparently, she was under the assumption that you were some crazy scientist who made attempts at resurrecting the dead, a belief her adoptive father had no doubt planted in her head to fuck with you.

If your contact with Vander was scarce prior to that incident, it had been efficiently killed and cremated the following weeks. You didn’t let him step foot on your property until he brought you a bottle of his finest scotch and a month’s worth of cigarettes as compensation, and after that, he was more careful about letting Powder wander around the place without adult supervision (not that you ever considered him an adult anyhow.)

Silco flicks his eyes over to you, the upward twitch of his lips proving that he was positively entertained by the image his mind had built around the aforementioned incident. It’s your fucking luck that the first time you see him looking even remotely appeased, it has something to do with your general misfortune.

You scowl.

“Let’s just get on with it,”

---

The tests are nothing grandiose or complicated, but Silco is determined to watch anyhow as you take the girl's vitals, height, weight, and bloodwork with a sharp look that probably serves as a means of intimidation. One wrong move, in any shape of form, will be met with the appropriate repercussions. You can tell that’s what he’s silently conveying to you, but you don’t let it unnerve you for long.

 Jinx is slightly thinner than what’s ideal for her age, but nothing to indicate that she’s terribly malnourished. It’s not an unusual observation here in the Undercity, and by comparison to some of your earlier clients, she’s adequate for her age and height.

With that, you proceed to her vitals. Heart rhythm is good, pulse correlates with it, her breathing is a little pitched, but not too much, and the rest follow swiftly behind in terms of overall quality.

You then get ready to draw some blood, and you can tell it’s not a procedure she looks forward to. When she was younger, she would have Vander hold her close until you were finished. Now, however, she has Silco’s hand on her shoulder for comfort, with his thumb softly caressing the edge of her shirt in repeating motions. It almost reminds you of something you’ve experienced before.

Not unlike the previous instances, Jinx flinches when you dig the nail into her arm, despite you going out of the way to try and be gentle about it, and the corners of her eyes well up but don’t spill. That’s good, at least. You’re not equipped with dealing with wailing children, though you’re familiar with the predicament. Even so, she watched with perplexed interest as the tube gradually fills with her blood, which is not something you’re used to seeing from children in general. It’s a small mercy compared to crying.

Meanwhile, you can practically feel the heat of Silco's eyes send prickles up your neck for the duration of the process until the point where you remove the device and put the tubes with her blood into the centrifuge.

It takes a short while until the machine finishes up, and so the four of you are left standing there for a rather awkward amount of time, with no one offering any words or initiating any conversations. It's like being stuck in an elevator with only the background music to keep you company, and now, even the music is lacking. There's just the sound from the centrifuge there to keep the silence at bay, and it's not that providing as you would've preferred.

The henchwoman - whom you just learned was called Sevika - has stepped outside to keep an eye around for any potential intruders or spectators whereas Silco has made himself at home on the chair by the front of the table that separates you two.

Jinx, meanwhile, is looking around like a kid in a candy shop.

And you, the humble owner of the establishment, are defeatedly left to wonder what kind of questionable decisions you've made in life to have landed you in this exact spot.

"So, do you have a partner yet?" Jinx inquires without taking her eye off a display case.

"No," you deadpan.

"How come? You're always here alone,"

"It's easier to manage,"

"No, it's not. I can tell," This time, she turns to point at you with an accusatory finger akin to an elderly mother who has yet to see grandchildren running around her. "It's so dark under your eyes that it's like looking at a hole in the ground,"

This fucking kid.

"Your point being?" you ask, frowning slightly at her outstretched appendage.

She grins. "I think you'll sleep easier if you have someone to cuddle with,"

Your frown deepens exponentially. "I neither have the time nor the interest,"

"Then make time, and find some interest,"

You know what, fuck Vander's ghost. Being chastised by a literal child about your habits is not what you signed up for. Hell, being threatened by Silco at knifepoint would've been more preferable to whatever the fuck kind of purgatory this is.

As if having finally decided to be merciful, the centrifuge finally announces that it's done with its job. The blood components have been separated nicely despite the questionable state of the device. It’s probably of drinking age now, but it’s stuck with you for so long now you almost link it to sentiment not to replace it.

You pick up one of the tubes and inspect it in the light, finding nothing erroneous about the overall quality. The layers are distributed nicely, with just the right amount on each section. Transparent, white, and crimson all aligned as they’re supposed to.  No visible traces of shimmer, which is good. Some of your most recent clients have specks of purple in the erythrocytes, and that’s not something you prefer when doing your checks. You’re surprised that the ward of the man who initially distributed the drug doesn’t have a trace of it in her system, but you can’t tell for certain until it’s been properly analyzed.

“Anything noteworthy?” Silco’s already at your side, quiet enough that the floorboards don’t announce his proximity until he’s looming mere inches behind you. He’s watching the tube with a sharp sense of scrutiny that nearly rivals your own. You almost flinches, keyword being almost, but you maintain your equanimity just long enough not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he nearly caught you off-guard.

“Not that I can tell,” you supply vaguely and tilt the tube a little to the side. “We’ll see soon enough,”

The little girl suddenly pops up between the two of you and reaches for it, but you raise your hand just slightly to keep her from grabbing a hold of it.

“I wanna see!” she exclaims with a frown.

“You’ve seen this plenty of times before,” you point out, yet cave in and hold it just close enough for her to get a good view of it.

“Why does it look like that?”

“All the different comp- … Layers in your blood have been separated,”

“How come?”

You gesture to the centrifuge. “In that machine, the liquid in the containers spins at a high velocity and separates the different parts in your blood,”

“Why is some of it white?”

“Those are leukocytes and platlets,”

“What are those?”

“If you get a scratch, they keep infections away and gradually close up the wound respectively,”

“What’s the clear liquid?”

“Plasma. It contains a mixture of water, sugar, protein, and salts,”

“Does it taste sweet?”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to find out,”

“Then, what about the red bits?”

“Erythrocytes, or red blood cells,”

“Is that why our blood is red?”

“Yes,” you simplify, unexpectedly finding yourself a little entertained by the girl’s consistent inquiries.

Silco finally clears his throat, a short-lived warning not to get off the rails. You give him an unimpressed look, but don’t comment on it.

“I’ll get the blood analyzed, but it can take a little while,” you inform him.

He doesn’t look deterred. If anything, he looks absolutely delighted, but only in the way you can expect from a gambler with all the good cards in his hands.

“It is of no issue. After all, what’s the saying? All good things come to those who wait,”

You absolutely detest that look in his eyes, but say nothing against it as you get back to work. His eyes follow you all the way, and you don’t need an extra set of visuals attached to your neck to be aware of that.

---

Only short of an hour later, the test results are finished. The sheets are printed, and you inspect them carefully atop the table. Surprisingly, they are mostly normal, though her white blood cell count is slightly elevated from the norm. Nothing too noteworthy, and certainly not the worst result you’ve seen in your career. No traces of any foreign substances, including shimmer, so you unconsciously exhale a relieved sigh.

“Are they in order?” Silco questions, once again from right next to you. You’ve learned not to become alarmed at it at this rate.

“Approximately,” you answer and hand him the sheet, which he accepts with a nod. His eyes, both the blue and the golden one, flicker across the page until he’s finished. “How soon can we begin the treatment,”

“Give me second.” You turn your back to him and are about to make your way to the door that leads to your lab downstairs. Before you can take the first step, a firm hand wraps around your wrist – not painful, but irritating nonetheless. You provide a subtle glare over your shoulder, which matches with the one he currently wears. “What is it?”

“I’ll come with you,”

“It’s off-limits,”

“I’m not asking.” His grip tightens, as does his scowl. Evidently, he’s not a patient man, and his position of power makes him arguably more insufferable than Vander could ever hope to be in his older age. You’ve had your dealings with similar Chem-Barons and gang leaders in the past, who’ve all but threatened your livelihood down to the marrow of your back. A grip around the wrist has been among the lighter threats you’ve encountered, but you still consider it to be the most insolent amidst the rest. A sign of unwavering pride but also entitlement, two of the characteristics in people you truly can’t stand in the grand scheme of things.

But in the short amount of time you’ve known Silco – even if you don’t really know-know him– it’s that his threats are never empty, especially not the non-verbal ones. The state he’s left the Lanes in during his reign is proof enough that he doesn’t get by with just words alone. Sevika can appear in front of you with her robotic arm wrapped around your throat with just the snap of his fingers, and that’s the least of what he’s capable of.

You give in and settle for a nod rather than a verbal affirmation. He let’s go of your hand, calloused fingers stroking across your exposed wrist, and you turn to lead him downstairs.

“Can I come, too?” Jinx perks up from behind one of the exhibitions, but Silco gently shakes his head in response.

“Afraid not, child.” It almost catches you by surprise how his voice can change from sharp and threatening to benevolent and soft in a span of seconds. “Please wait here. We’ll return shortly,”

The pout on her face expresses that she’s not happy about it, but eventually concedes and resume with her exploration.

Silco follows behind you like a shadow in the dark as you lead him down the stairs. His steps are light, yet defined, and the boards creak underneath his weight as they do to you. That’s about the only real way you know for certain that you’re not alone.

It’s not until you reach the lab that he shifts his attention around the place, appraises it with a combination of fascination and vaguely shaped curiosity.

You keep your stock here, where it’s safest. There are some shelves filled with freshly procured serums and remedies you’ve recently refined and left to settle, protected by a thick layer of glass that only you can open by traditional means (e.g. a key) . Other ones contain files and reports regarding the effects of your work. The rest is mostly compiled of various research materials that you have at easy availability if you need it. Additionally, you have a few cages and small enclosures stacked up back whenever you have live specimen, but they are all empty now. Even the Naptaker was delivered to you cold and unmoving.

In the middle of the room, there’s a desk where most of your findings and failures are dissected and researched, with the necessary tools aligned alongside one-another.

“Excuse the mess,” you offer, but he shakes his head without even looking at you. Ignoring this, you make your way over to the cabinet on the far side of the room and unlock one of the frames.

“You’re in possession of an interesting office, I must admit,” Silco says with about as much genuine admiration as you can detect in his words. His eyes flicker to some of the shelves. “You’ve produced these on your own?”

“For the most part,” you reply over your shoulder as you shuffle through the wares. “I prefer to see things through on my own terms,”

“Yes, I recall you mentioned that,” he comments. “Your need for independence, as it were?”

You hum a noise of confirmation.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you can hear him take a step closer. “Whatever happened to the old owner of the busine–”

“Here it is,” you exclaim as you produce a small glass jar of turquoise and white-colored pills that has remained mostly untouched since Vander’s last visit. They have yet to expire and are considerably easier on the effects than the other different narcotic substances you’re in possession of. You can’t tell if they have the intended outcome on her as before, but there’s only one way to find out.

You hand him the jar and he uncork it to inspect one of the pills between his boney fingers. “These are the kind she used?”

“Yes,”

“Dosage?”

“Up to two pills at most, depending on the severity of her episodes. They’re relatively quick to work on children, but I won’t recommend more than six a day at most,”

“Any side-effects I should be made aware of?”

“Outside of their calming properties, there’s little else to my knowledge. Overdoing it can be fatal, however, so make sure that they’re only used as a last resort,”

He narrows an eye at you. “Pray tell, isn’t that your job to keep track of?”

“I’m not her parent. I provide, I analyze, and the rest is up to you how you decide to manage it,”

His lips twitch downwards, then holds the one pill out. “Take one,”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“If they’re as light as you claim that they are, then there should be no problems, should there?” He makes it clear that this is by no means a request.

You remain unmoving. “It won’t have the same effect on an adult body as it would a child,”

“Still, indulge me,” he purrs delicately, though the hold around the pill tightens to insinuate that his patience is wavering.

With a sigh, you retrieve the pill from between his fingers and pop it into your mouth. It goes down fairly smoothly with the bob of your throat, and Silco watches intently. The medicine’s effect on an adult body is much like a cigarette in the way it only calms the individual for as long as the smoke lasts. You might feel a little drowsy even, but not to an inhibiting degree.

One minute go by, then three, and Silco’s unyielding stare never strays from yours.

Your patience eventually borders around impatience. “Is that satisfactory enough?”

He considers you for another second before finally pulling the jar into his pocket. From his other pocket, he tosses you a purse filled with coins that you barely manage to catch in time. It’s twice as heavy as the last one.

“Expect me to return in a couple of days to report if the effects have been satisfactory.” He turns his back to you, the edges of his overcoat swinging. His voice drops and he turns to look at you with every ounce of danger you can expect from a man from him. The fire in his eye burns with the promises of everything but death. “If I suspect any foul play in all of this…”

He’s gone before you can hear him finish.

#silco x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco/reader #arcane x reader #Silco x you #Arcane lol #Silco x oc #Silco imagine #in the land of the blind

[missathlete31]

DEAD ON YOUR FEET Chapter 2 -

An AU in which Hangman is team leader and takes the missile to save Rooster. As he struggles to get himself and his teammate home, Jake is pushed to his limits in more ways than even he anticipated.

link below for chapter 1 if missed

(Does this picture have anything to do with the story.... not really but Glen looks hot and exhausted and in this chapter Hangman gets hot and is exhausted so we go with it)

Warmth is what brings Jake back to awareness after his plane crashes to the ground, and not a gentle warmth like an afternoon sun on a spring day. No, this is straight heat he feels, worse than the time his parents locked him out of the house in the dead of Texas summer. Jake struggles to open an eye; to gauge his surroundings, but even lifting an eyelid feels like a herculean effort and the pilot just can’t muster the strength at the moment.

Heat…Fire… Plane on Fire….Get up!

Jake’s brain pushes the connection through his body, awakening enough wherewithals for him to open a green eye and see the fiery remains of his jet all around. Somehow the crash threw Jake’s body out of the worst of the debris but when he looks up he sees pieces of the plane ready to fall and land on top of him. By his left side Jake can see flames licking at the ends of his flight suit and he knows he has to move. He turns his head slowly, cautious of whiplash or a back injury to see a clear path towards his right. An army crawl seems impossible so Jake tries to roll over instead. He makes it about an inch before a sharp pain on his right side makes him stop and swear for a moment before he gains enough momentum to lift his head.

He expects to see something sticking out of his stomach, the pain so bad he must be impaled, but nothing is visible meaning Jake is facing an internal injury. He’s had broken ribs before (his father the culprit of more than a dozen in his childhood years) but they never felt this bad.

A piece of burning wreckage teeters above him and pain be damned Jake forces himself onto his front as he scampers out of the way. He doesn’t clear completely, something hitting the back of his head sharply and causing his vision to tunnel. He pushes past it though, getting himself into a safer position before he falls back into the snow.

Jake is on his back now, looking up at brightened sky that feels wrong with all the discomfort coursing through his body. He knows he should catalogue his injuries, find what really hurts but his body is just one giant pulse of pain and he is almost over-stimulated because of it. He closes his eyes, almost on the verge of passing out again when he hears a plane’s engine. It snaps him back to reality, his eyes scanning the skies to see a familiar F-18 super hornet heading towards his location. For a moment Jake fights the urge to cry, the thought of one of his teammates coming back for him enough to quell the feelings of worthlessness he had grown accustomed too. Instead he tries to sit up, the sharp throbbing of his abdomen making it exceedingly more difficult, as he tries to flag down the jet overhead.

As the plane gets closer Jake can just barely make out that it’s a single-seater; meaning that unless Maverick broke the speed of sound to try to supply support, the pilot that came back for him was none other than Rooster. Jake’s mind wants to unpack this bit of information, but the blonde refuses to give it credence, his concern staying focused on showing Bradshaw that he is indeed alive.

The jet circles once but Jake’s not sure he’s more than a speck of debris from Bradley’s vantage point so he struggles to stand himself up. It’s not easy, not that anything at this point has been, but Jake manages to get to a knee before he looks up again and waves a weak hand up. He hopes Bradley sees something before a noise makes his stomach drop- Bradshaw hit one of the other missile zones and he’s below the threshold. Three surface to air missiles come shooting out but it only takes one. It makes a direct hit with Rooster’s left engine and Jake watches in horror as the plane starts making a beeline for the ground.

With a cry of anguish, Jake’s body crumbles to the ground. This is exactly what he never wanted, a teammate, a friend, dying for him. His father was right, Rooster was right, the team was right, all Jake was good for was to bring death and sadness to those around him. He wishes he never got himself up to wave, wishes Bradshaw saw nothing and headed back to the ship, away from danger and away from the damage Jake inflicts on those around him. Jake’s not sure how he could face a rescue now, how he could dare go back to the carrier and tell the others that Rooster died trying to save him of all people. Jake fights the urge to throw up but it’s too much, the grip of grief too tight on his heart and his stomach and he heaves into the snow roughly, the pain in his side burning at the effort.

Tears continue to well in his eyes and he blinks them away, his vision turning watery as he pushes himself back onto his hunches and looks around him. It is then he catches something falling slowly from the sky, a parachute deployed with a pilot attached. He gasps with a combination of shock, alarm and the underlying feeling of hope before Jake gets himself fully standing because Bradshaw is alive and he has to go get to him. It’s the motivation he needs to get himself moving again and he grasps that fact with all the willpower he has left in him.

Jake wants to run through the woods immediately but he forces himself to think logically first. He heads back to his plane’s wreckage, and can just make out his go bag under the flaming remains of his fuselage. It’s filled with a canteen, some rations, a first aid kit, a compass and his knife- basically everything he needs if he wants to survive and Jake finds in his heart he does, if not for himself than for the teammate he trapped with him. Shuffling painfully low, Jake reaches through the flames, struggling to ignore the licks of fire burning his fingers as he finds purchase on the bag straps. He pulls but nothing moves and now Jake can smell gas leaking, the ultimate sign of things getting a hell of a lot worse quickly. He pulls again, harder this time and the bag slowly wiggles but still it’s not free. He braces himself to pull once more but before he can the fuselage explodes in the most brilliant display of flames Jake’s ever seen. He’s too close to it though and he is pushed back with a force that knocks every ounce of air from his lungs before throwing him back into the snow. His head connects sharply with the ground and he’s seeing stars for a few moments before he can even begin to function. When he comes back to some semblance of reality Jake feels heat on his face. He tries to turn over but suddenly he’s vomiting again, this time with an alarming amount of red tinged in it before he falls over to his left, his face finding solace as it hits the coolness of the snow.

He wants to stay there forever. He wants to stay in this frozen tundra with his burning face buried in the snow for the rest of time. The feeling of cold is the only relief he’s felt since the crash and if he’s taking an inventory, his body is very close to its limit. Yet Jake knows he can’t stay. Bradshaw’s out there, in the woods because of him. He’s ejected from a plane and could be injured because of him. Burns, fractured ribs, concussion be damned, Jake owes it to Rooster to get to him. He thinks of Maverick’s pre-mission words once more and slowly gets his body moving.

Pain has always been a part of Jake's life: physically, mentally, emotionally. He taught himself early on how to deal with the worst the world has to offer so he tells himself that this is nothing. These pulsing waves of pain, that slowly overwhelm his senses are just a distraction. He forces himself up, moving first to his knees and then finally when his head stops spinning he gets his feet under him.

Once standing, he shoulders his go bag and takes a deep breath. It isn't as hard as he expects with possibly broken ribs or maybe he just doesn't let it be as hard as it should be. He is focused now, stubbornly so, and his mind has always been frighteningly obstinate when he wants it to be.

He looks back up at the treeline but he can’t see Bradley’s parachute anymore. He knows which direction it was headed though so he shuffles that way. Taking one last glance at his burning jet, Jake closes his eyes and wishes for strength. He doesn’t exactly get it but he’s got enough determination to push himself forward in a slow trot through the trees. It’s excruciating on his ribs but Jake’s made of tougher stuff than anyone’s ever given him credit for. He dissociates himself from his injuries as much as possible and keeps putting one foot in front of the other, his mind only on his teammate.

Like he promised himself before this mission, he is getting them all home.

Chapter One in case you missed it:

Ao3 link if you want to read ahead:

#jake seresin #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #ao3 link #glen powell #maverick #pete mitchell #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #tom cruise #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #Jake Seresin whump #whump writing #top gun fandom #top gun

[catindabag]

That’s it. Here are my personal Top 10 favorite TBOSAS fanfics to read on the weekends.

PS: Most of them were published even before the trailer for the upcoming movie premiered.

So here are my recommendations:

1. The Plinth Prize by Redex

This oneshot is a certified classic angsty Snowjanus/SnowPlinth fic. And honestly, this is why I support my fellow SnowPlinth shippers, cuz this story could definitely replace the last 3 chapters of TBOSAS and I wouldn’t even question it.

2. Nothing to lose by HopelessRomantikk

This oneshot is another Snowjanus/SnowPlinth fic. However, this one is quite romantically sweet as cinnamon with lots of kisses. Just play the song Say Yes to Heaven by Lana Del Rey in the background and you’re good to go.😘

3. Reflections of the Garden by madzdolin

This one is an angsty SnowBaird fic that actually gives you one of the best bittersweet endings ever. It also gave the readers a proper closure to Coryo’s relationship with both Lucy Gray and Sejanus. You might even cry a little when you read the last chapter. Just saying~.😚

4. Saving Each Other by flipflop_diva

This oneshot is one of those unique SnowBaird fics that gives the readers a good “What if” scenario to seriously think about, cuz in this AU, Coryo doesn’t escape the Arena with Sejanus. So he’s basically stuck with Lucy Gray as another “tribute,” until they both won by waiting and poisoning everybody else. And yes, Reaper was not amused.

5. You Complete Me by gaytriforce

This oneshot is another classic Snowjanus/SnowPlinth confession fic. Moreover, I really loved the simple way of how they got together. And to be honest, this short fic could replace the whole Peacekeeper arc and I wouldn’t even notice the change.

6. Pursuit Predation by evaerobics

This oneshot is that rare Snowjanus/SnowPlinth AU fic that deserves another 50 chapters. It basically gives the readers a “What if” scenario where Coryo was chosen to Mentor District two’s male Tribute, Sejanus Plinth. And yes, Sejanus kissed Coryo in front of his classmates before entering the Capitol Arena.

7. The last two loves of his life by boneslen

This one is a good bittersweet angsty SnowBaird/SnowPlinth fic. Basically, Lucy Gray was forced to become an Avox by Dr. Gaul. Sejanus is still dead. And Coryo is busy having a mental breakdown every second of the day. The newly elected President of Panem just really wants both his girlfriend and boyfriend back, ok. The Bi-panic is real with this one.

8. Roses and Nutmeg by PliaPlia

This Snowjanus/SnowPlinth oneshot features a very stressed out malnourished AF Coryo, who became quite ill because he keeps giving away his food to a very busy Tigris. Seriously, somebody give the poor cabbage boy some soup. Sejanus, call your Ma and feed your future boyfriend.

9. Feverish Dreams by Cordeliadumaurier

Let’s just agree that this long ass SnowBaird fic has the craziest story of the season. I mean, the revenge plot alone is amazing, and every single character is insane in their own way, even Lucy Gray. Moreover, everyone is just borderline obsessed with Coryo’s dead dad, Crassus Snow. Even dead Dean Casca Highbottom was freaking in love with Snow’s dead dad! So yeah, they’re all obsessed, depressed, and crazy. Everyone needs therapy, but Snow still lands on top. #Crasca4ever

10. The Sound of Snow Falling by PRES_CS_HGT

This HG/TBOSAS fic is one of my personal favorites. The plot alone is great and unique in its own way, because it features a very young and confused 5’4 and a half Coryo Snow waking up after the end of the Second Rebellion. Also, the new President, Alma Coin wants to place him inside the Arena as a Tribute for the crimes he doesn’t even remember committing. And his assigned Mentor, Katniss Everdeen hates him for some reason. And what the heck happened to Tigris?! Why is she so old?! And why does she look like a literal tiger?! Who knows, Coryo Snow.

Special Mention:

1. I’m so sorry, Coryo by HopelessRomantikk

Basically, this features Sejanus Plinth’s angsty POV in TBOSAS, and how he was secretly in love with Coryo Snow since forever. However, he still meets the same fate here.

2. The needle in the brain by Sweetlit

This TBOSAS AU fic is already wild and spicy like some Lana Del Rey album. The plot alone is great and full of mysteries. Moreover, this story’s “What if” scenario features a very desperate and depressed Coryo Snow seducing a heartbroken Dean Casca Highbottom to let him stay in the Capitol after winning the Hunger Games. And let’s just agree that if ever Crassus Snow reads this fic, he might as well burn Panem to the ground.

3. The Hanging Tree by SirFanfic

This oneshot features a regretful Coryo Snow, who decided to have a last minute change of heart and saved Sejanus from being hanged.

#coriolanus snow #president snow #coryo snow #tbosas #bosas #hunger games #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #casca highbottom #dean highbottom #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #suzanne collins #thg #fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg fic #thg fandom #snowbaird #snowplinth #fanfiction #fic recommendation #ao3 #ao3 link #fanfic rec #fic rec #coriolanus x sejanus #snowjanus #crassus snow

[mmushroomwriter]

Ostrich x gn Mc

“It’s so cold, you should hold my hand, so it doesn’t freeze.” “I’m not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want.”

Please

So I actually wrote this months ago, but completely forgot to post it. Reading it back, I'm actually really happy with it. So apologies for how late it is, but here you go!

This isn't set at any particular point (as in its not exactly pre- or post- book, maybe even closer to an au where the story doesn't happen? idk). Set in the crushing stage for both.

Under the cut for length

(also I love Ostrich instead of Osric. Auto-correct can be very annoying, but very funny. At least three people definitely have him saved as ostrich in their phones).

Ancia is always at its prettiest when it snows.

A layer of white coats the streets and the roofs of buildings, hiding the everpresent grime that coats the city for at least a month. The sky takes on an almost otherworldly purple glow - maybe the only times in your entire life of living in Ancia when you see the sky as anything other than a polluted grey.

It's almost impossible not to fall in love with the city in winter.

Small white flakes drift slowly in the air, completely aimless without a breeze around to guide them. Usually, at such a time it would be too dark to see so many of them, even with the dim orange glow of streetlights, but the sky is illuminated with the light of the full moon - even if the moon itself is not visible behind a wall of clouds.

It's late. No way that it's before midnight, evidence of that being right next to you in the form of Osric Jalava walking home.

That man does not leave a venue before midnight, it's somehow impossible.

You’re pretty sure he’s fully lost his mind, as despite the temperature, he’s dressed pretty much as he always is.

That is truly the one downside to winters in the city - the temperature. Because holy fuck, it's cold. You’re wrapped up in too many layers to count, a full ski jacket on top of jumpers on top of long-sleeve-shirts, with a scarf, hat and snow boots on top of all that. And here this idiot is with nothing more than jeans, a t-shirt covered by a thin pull-over, converse (that are utterly soaked through by this point) and a pair of gloves. And he isn’t even shivering.

For as long as you’ve known Osric he somehow seemed impervious to the cold, but this seemed like a bit much even for him.

The two of you walk silently back to his apartment, as it's a good amount closer to the bar than yours. It isn’t an awkward silence though, it isn’t as though neither of you can think of something to say, it just somehow feels wrong to disturb the night. It's a rare occasion for any street in Ancia to be quiet, especially in Greenplane, but it seems as though the cold has even the hardiest of partiers in bed tonight.

Osric reaches into his back pocket, grabbing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one in his mouth before turning the box to you, tilting it slightly in offering. You consider it for a moment, the warmth would definitely be welcome right about now, but in the end shake your head. He simply shrugs and lights his own before shoving both items back into his pockets.

It's crisp enough that every exhale already comes out looking like a puff of smoke, but now the smell of tobacco mixes with the smell of the air that always comes with winter, the one that is indescribable except for simply the smell of cold.

It’s oddly comforting, you find. It's not the smell of cigarette smoke anymore you suppose, now it’s just the smell of him.

You look at him walking next to you, his eyes ahead but not focusing on anything in particular.

It’s at moments like these that you can’t help but appreciate how pretty he is. With his face basking in the weird mix of purple and orange light and flakes of snow landing on his face like freckles. His hair is a mess (though to be fair, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it not a mess). It’s grown out slightly longer than usual and you know the way it keeps falling in front of his eyes is annoying him - but you also know he won’t be quite bothered enough to do anything about it for probably another month. His lips are ever so slightly curved up into a relaxed smirk, which you’ve come to find is his default expression. You’re not quite sure why it is, but you certainly get why people often think he’s somewhat of a smug bastard before getting to know him. That’s not to say that it’s an entirely inaccurate presumption - he’s certainly a bastard, but he’s not smug, not really… well, maybe sometimes, but no more than your average person. Most of the time it’s an act, inauthentic - a comedic bit that he does for himself that he’s become slightly too good at.

As though he can hear you thinking about him, he turns to look at you, sending you a much more genuine smile. You attempt to smile back, but your chattering teeth make it look a little more like an odd grimace, making him chuckle.

“It’s cold as absolute shit out here.” He tries to say it nonchalantly, turning his eyes back in front of him to avoid yours. He comes to a stop causing you to do the same.

You send him a questioning look, but he doesn’t see it. Instead he looks at his hands intently, as though he’s having a mental argument with them, before pulling off his gloves and holding them out towards you.

You hesitate for a second, causing him to look up. You realise with surprise that he actually looks bashful. It’s strange, as you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look anything other than confident.

“Aren’t you freezing?” you ask, concerned but very tempted to accept the offer.

He shrugs, “I’m not that cold. I’m happy to give you my gloves… you know, if you want.”

You nod, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him grin as you pull them on.

You go to start walking again, but stop as you realise he doesn’t make to follow you.

“Um,” he looks away nervously, an entirely odd sight to see. “Do you wanna, you know…”

He trails off but holds his hand out to you in obvious invitation.

You grin, is the Osric Jalava actually nervous to ask you to hold his hand?

“Just because you’re cold and stuff.” He adds hurriedly. “You know, so you don’t freeze or something.”

He looks at you, trying to keep his face neutral, but his eyes give away just how desperate he is to know if he’s just royally fucked up the situation.

You reach out and grab his hand, causing a relieved smile to break out on his face. You roll your eyes in amusement, this is a man who can unflinchingly ask you to sleep over at his place and share his bed (though calling it a bed is maybe too kind, it’s a blow-up-mattress), but is scared to ask to hold your hand.

“Hmm, yes,” You hum, eyes dancing with a mix of laughter and deep affection. “Thank you for so bravely saving me from freezing.”

He nods effusively, making the snow that had landed on his head fly off.

“You’re welcome.”

And at that, you both start walking once again. Silence once again envelops you, but just as before, it’s not awkward, not even close.

Instead, it’s a warm silence. One that wards off the harsh chill of the winter night, leaving in its wake only the beauty of Ancia in the snow.

#playlistsfortheendtimes #playlists for the end times #snippet #osric #anon #answered!

[larryficwriter]

one line, any fic

Hiiiii, I was tagged by @kingonafiftymetreroad and @thebreadvansstuff to do the one line, any fic challenge. Sooo, here we go.

Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people

Never Understood What Love Was Really Like (But I Felt it for the First Time Looking in Your Eyes)  E, 37k

“Louis,” he looks to him, almost frantic with pleasure, and Louis sees his entire world.

“I know,” Louis says, literally feeling every emotion of Harry’s running through his veins. Their eyes lock as they both share this moment. “Me too.”

The connection he feels with Harry goes beyond what any words could describe. Laying there, locking eyes with Harry, who is all wide-eyed and beautiful, while they’re bound together - Louis has never felt anything like it. It’s like they’re no longer two separate people, like he doesn’t know where Harry ends and he begins.

Unwrap My Heart E, 15k

Harry started calling him Sweet after he discovered that Louis listened to Sweet Creature on repeat so much that it’s his top song of the year. It makes Louis’ heart do backflips every time. He has to press the side of his face into the pillows to hide his giddy smile.

Cure the Loneliness E, 14k

Harry rolls over and checks the time, 3:46 am. He should be sleeping. But all he can think about is how awry his life has gone. Yeah, sure, there are parts of his life that he knows he’s been blessed with. The fact that he made it, truly made it, in a career that rarely anyone does - it’s a miracle. He looks around at his empty, dark room. What good are miracles if you have no one to share it with?

You are the Lyrics E, 5k

Harry holds Louis’ wrist still. Even from his obstructed view of Louis, half of Harry’s face still smashed into their bed, he can see the look of confusion on Louis’ face. He gives Louis the best smirk that he can in the situation, and then he literally starts riding Louis’ hand.

Like Snowflakes G, 4k

Silence. Louis can’t quite place the look on his face. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that snow has started to fall and he watches as tiny flakes start to waft peacefully around them. Some land on his hair, the white creating a stark contrast with the chocolate brown of Harry’s hair. When a single flake makes its home on Harry’s cheek, Louis’ first reaction is to swipe it off with his thumb and right when their eyes meet, words are spilling out of Louis’ mouth.

Til My Voice Breaks, Baby I Love You E, 23k

Louis looks at Harry, feeling emotional and vulnerable and he wants to say it. He wants to tell Harry. He opens his mouth and the tiniest “I” comes out. Harry didn’t even hear it.

Only You, Always E, 5k

“Babe,” Harry whispers, biting on Louis’ earlobe to regain Louis’ attention. “Hope you’re ready for round two.”

All My Senses Come To Life (Cause You’re The Only One) E, 20k

“I’m fine. The room’s stopped spinning. C’mon, don’t stall. Did you not like the kiss? Because it’s okay if you didn’t.”

“I liked it. You got weird.” Louis says, scratching at the 28 on his knuckles.

“You got weird!” Harry insists. “Oh my god. Are we freaking out over nothing?”

Dear Blue E, 9k

‘Blue,

Why? There’s so much I want to write to describe what I feel for you. Valentine’s Day is supposed to be special. I’m beginning to think it’s cursed. You’ve made me cry for a lot of reasons: from laughter mostly, but never like this. I don’t even know what to say to you anymore or even if we’ll be okay anymore. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.

p.s. The first card contained a poem that I wasted my time writing about you. Fuck off.

Green’

A Beautiful Start to a Lifelong Love Letter E, 3k

There’s this peaceful sort of quiet. Somewhere down the hallway, someone is already experiencing their first college party judging by the quieted bass thumping. Simon stares at Bram’s bookshelf and smiles to himself. He should have known that the guy who calls him cute and grammatical would decide to be an English major. The streetlight casts just a small amount of light into their room, illuminating Bram’s sleek, toned calves. 

As with my last writing related post, I don’t have many writer friends and the ones I do have already tagged me. If you want to participate, please do! 

#fic challenge #one line any fic #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry smut #TheIfInLife #my fic #I'm going to put this in the tags #this got rough at the end bc it was dipping into ooooold fic that I know was not my best #so pls do not judge some of the older content #also emotional ngl bc I lost my original tumblr years ago and I lost so many followers aand exposure to my writing #I sort of gave up for a long while but it's kind of nice to be sharing my work again #be on the lookout for at least two fics from me in the near future