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cryptidax · 3 years

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Fallen Aliases

-DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt in angst so please remember that as you read!!

-Word Count: around 1,605 words

-The reader here is, once again, NOT the traveler. They are a high-ranking member of the Liyue Qixing and have a personality based on Xingqiu and Rosaria but share the same hunger for battle as Tartaglia. They also use a polearm as a weapon and have a vision. :)

NAMES, such a common thing, yet it holds such significance to even the immortals. Cursing one's name might result in you breathing your last; Praising someone else's title might flatter them; Falling for another's alias might result in your end. The people of Teyvat hold names in such high regard, yet. Why, why did you love someone when you didn't even know their name?

Ah yes. The truth is as clear as day now. It was because you were blind. As the elders would call it, You were a fool in love. Despite that, why do you hold all the memories with him in such a fond manner? The day when you met can still be remembered as clear as the water in the ponds of Qingce Village.

The feeling of your polearm in your hand and your vision hanging from your belt is something that exhilarated you. Especially now, with several new foes for you to beat in front of you.

"This is much more interesting than doing boring paperwork, don't you think?"

From an outsider's perspective, seeing a Qixing member speaking to some Ruin machinations in the middle of the night would make them think they are going crazy. After all, all the Qixing members are dignified and elegant people who have enough ambition and power to uphold the will of Rex Lapis despite being mortal. People who are as clear and transparent of their ways just like Morax. (Y/N) is the hidden spear of the Qixing, a weapon with dangerous potential yet remains covered to the public. One minute they could be speaking in front of the Milileth about their new plans for defense; next, they could be slicing down several Ruin hunters by the coast of Liyue and laughing as if they are playing with toys while doing so.

"It's a shame such ancient machinations must be shut down.. oh well, Night Night little robots.~"

Using their elemental burst to enhance their weapon, (Y/N) swings it in a clockwise motion to finish the ruin hunters and watch as they fall only to disintegrate into blue dust. Hearing the ruffling of the bushes beside them, they ready their weapon once again and turn around to meet a new foe.

"Whoever you are, come out now, and I might be merciful tonight."

Anticipating a new fight, the Qixing member was let down as they see an orange mop of hair instead of a beast or machination to face.

"Well, you are disappointing." (Y/N) bluntly said as they stared down the newcomer. The (h/c)-haired person observed the hydro vision hanging framed in a Sneznayan designed border from the blue-eyed stranger and readied their vision for combat once again.

"I never knew the Liyue Qixing were so hospitable to others." the newcomer stated in a playfully sarcastic manner. "Anyways, You can call me Childe, (Y/-"

Cutting him off as he was about to say their name, (Y/N) hostility asked many questions towards Childe, Each question containing less friendliness as the last. The Sneznayan answered all these questions without fail, yet (Y/N) never let down their guard.

"Master Childe!!"

The duo turns to the noise to see a female fatui member loudly calling out for superior while forcefully making her way through several large faunas.

"Well, that's my call to go Mx. Bigshot. See you next time!"

Childe childishly says as he quickly goes towards the fatui member. You could hear him loudly playfully shouting back at her by repeating her name. Shaking their head in a joking manner, the (h/c)-nette heads their way back to the office, dreading the paperwork they have to write as a report of what they had done for the night.

This schedule goes on every night for several weeks. (Y/N) goes to clear out monsters, Childe appears out of nowhere and helps out with destroying them, talks a bit, says goodbyes, and repeats the next night. (Y/N) has tried to stop him, but he keeps insisting to the point where he would keep his arms around them unless they allow him to stay.

A blind man could see how in love they were, from the way they looked at each other when they slay monsters in the night, to the way each would hold each other's gaze for more than one would consider professional.

They were in love.

The elders called it beautiful. Singles held jealous looks to their relationship yet congratulated them nonetheless. Children fawned to their parents on how they wanted to grow up to have what they had. The two held hope that despite who they are, what they do for a living. They hoped that they at least can have this one thing that can share.

But oh, What fools were they to believe that two mortals can forever ignore reality.

The day started so pure as if the archons all agreed to give humanity one good day, A pair of lovers waking up to gaze at each other lovingly as they murmured random and insignificant news to each other sweetly. To others, this may be unimportant considering how much influence these two people have over their respective nations, but these two moments like these mean the world to them. Sadly, they must head up and attend to their duties. Giving a goodbye kiss to each other, both get ready for their work before going out to each work locations. If (Y/N) bothered to look back to awhile longer when they gave each other a goodbye, they would see underlying melancholy in the eyes of their lover. Maybe that would have been the key to keeping their relationship.

It truly is sad how relationships take so long to build up. Yet be shattered in just the snap of one's fingers.

Hearing the closing of the front door, (Y/N) looks up to see the tired and beaten form of their lover bandaged up. It honestly broke their heart to go and comfort him, But what needs to be done is more important. Not only for them but for their co-workers who care for them, and for the citizens of Liyue who were affected by the awakening of the ancient sea god.

"Childe."

His name. A name that flowed out of their mouth with a tone sweet as honey. Now felt like they were eating sandpaper as they said it.

Looking up to see the blank yet hurt look from his lover, Childe, the eleventh fatui harbinger, felt something that he has not gotten for several years from someone that does not share his blood. Guilt.

"(Y/N) I can explai-"

"Save it."

Giving a sad smile to the fatui in front of them, they blankly say how they know how he caused the disaster. Each word seems to be like another arrow being shot towards the Sneznayan as his lover said it in such a way that it was impossible not to question his actions. Maybe this would've been more bearable if his lover was angry and was rapidly throwing insults, but they said it in an accepting way. Like they anticipated that this would happen, and that. That somehow made him feel more hurt than if the latter happened.

"Childe, or should I call you Tartaglia,"

People say that second chances are the cultivators of a better relationship,

"I believed we could've made this work in a way that we can pretend we are not two opposing people."

They say that hardships like these would blossom into a memory that they could recount with a nostalgic smile.

"I promised that we would get through this together,"

But love is a battlefield and in the relationship of (Y/N), the sword of the qixing, and Childe, a warrior of Sneznaya. That statement quite too literal.

"Ha... I apologize, but that promise is one I cannot keep, not after that disaster you have summoned..."

There are no second chances in battle,

"I loved you, but now... I see that I do not even know who you are."

For once you swing your weapon,

"Goodbye Childe, For our sake, I hope we never see each other again."

You have no chance to take it back.

Hiding their tears as they walk out of their old abode, never looking back in fear that they will not stand firm in their decision. (Y/N)'s heart cracks each step they take, mind plagued by scenarios of what else they could've done. Walking turns to jogging and jogging to running, the Qixing member rushes to their new residence, an apartment in Liyue Harbor, and opens then shuts the door quickly. They slump down on the floor, wanting to cry. Time seems to stop as (Y/N) reaches up to touch their face.

"Why can't I cry?"

It seems like the archons won't even give them the comfort of tears.

Seeing the fading silhouette of his ex-lover as they walk away, Childe solemnly walks to their, now only his, room and opens his drawer to get out a small velvet box. With a sad look and teary eyes, he opens the box to reveal a beautiful Varunada Lazurite ring. A ring that he hoped would've been placed on the finger of who he loves. The young lord holds the item close to his chest and quietly whispers through choked sobs,

"But I love you (Y/N).."

After so many years, the eleventh harbinger, an instrument of war, the big brother of several siblings, the annoying co-worker of the harbingers. Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax... Cries. At this moment, all the sides of one man weep.

Fate must be satisfied. They just punished a catalyst of death, A being who gets excitement from a battle, a person that should be victim to the full wrath of the archons. No matter how good a person acts, blood will forever stain their hands. By this law, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax is a wicked being. He is an evil man... right?

#childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #wtf do u have so many names #haha #i have no idea how to write angst #is this even sad?#ill go edit and fix this up later

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jackoshadows · 3 years

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Do you think that Daenerys will burn kings landing in the books? She did it on the show and she has to show the strength of her dragons in Westeros like in Essos.

For the answer to this question, I would direct you to Dany blogs that dissect her story arc using the books. You could read their theories and speculations based on the books and come to your own conclusion on this.

As for my speculations on this,

1. Dany has done nothing so far in the last 5 books that leads towards her going on a random rampage in KL. She has shown a lot of concern and care towards the civilians and common folk of Essos. More than the likes of Robb Stark for example.

2. Dany burning down KL would turn her into her father. This goes against what I think is GRRM’s message in the series - that the younger generation can rise above their birth and the societal biases against them.

3. That said, I do think that the author means for us to question and speculate, along with Daenerys, if she would turn into her father. This is an internal conflict that the character is struggling with and a part of her story. More on this below the cut.*

4. I think there will be a second dance of dragons between Young Griff/Aegon and Daenerys in KL. Going back to the original outline, the second book of the original trilogy - titled the Dance of Dragons - was supposed to be about Dany’s conquest of Westeros. There will be casualties in this war. GRRM has been explicit about the consequences of war on the small folk due to the WOT5K. Robb Stark may have had a just cause but innocent people suffered and died due to his war for independence. Even with Stannis’ march to Winterfell, we see a 14 year old soldier being burned to death as punishment for cannibalizing a corpse because he was so hungry and there’s no food. War is brutal.

5. Dany can win KL without massacring thousands. The Lannisters did it in the books when they sacked KL and no one - not even the honorable Ned Stark - complained about it. She could have done it on the show and won - except, suddenly pacifist Tyrion kept advising against it. In fact if the dragons act as a nuclear deterrent, there will be less casualties. Aegon the conqueror won the North without a single casualty.

5. Westeros is already in a bad way and winter has come to KL by the end of the fifth book. Dany will end up in charge of a war torn Westeros down south. By which time, the North is overrun, Winterfell is lost and the survivors head south. IMO, the Others will not be defeated at Winterfell in 30 minutes like on the show. They are the central antagonists and the last book will mostly be about the rest of Westeros uniting against them. Dany will acknowledge the central premise of the series - ‘ When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?’ and joins Jon, Bran, Arya and others to defeat the army of the dead.

6. I have no idea how her story will end in the books. Considering she dies on the show and if it’s the same in the books, I would think that if she goes out she will go out a hero and not a villain. There’s a lot of prophecies associated with her and I would speculate that her character is instrumental in defeating the Others. Fire and Ice and all that.

7. And speculate is all we can do, considering we will never get the last book and a conclusion to GRRM’s version of the story.

* Now to expand a little bit on the point number 3 above.

I would like to comment on a line of thought/discourse regarding Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow and Targaryen madness.

I have seen a few posts from time to time making the assertion that if one speculates on mad queen Dany, but does not do the same for Jon Snow, then this is sexism. I disagree.

Now, if one is making that argument that by genetics, Daenerys Targaryen is designed to go mad and she will go mad, burn down KL and die while Jon goes on to be King or goes into exile etc. then yes, this argument would indeed be sexist, IMO. If we are going to speculate based on Targaryen genetics, then, not much is different between Jon and Dany. They are both Targaryens. Dany is not fire proof and neither is Jon. While Dany has some strongly prophetic dragon dreams, there are indications that Jon’s dreams are prophetic as well.

“Sleep came at last, and with it nightmares. He dreamed of burning castles and dead men rising unquiet from their graves”

He has dreamed of Winterfell burning, of Ned being executed, of being told that he is not a Stark by the old kings of winter in the crypts where his mother is buried and of Bran as a weirwood.

Jon’s dream here is very similar to what Dany dreams of:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. - Jon Snow

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent.- Daenerys Targaryen

We know zombie ice spiders are going to be a thing. And the armor of black ice that Jon references here could be Euron Greyjoy’s black valyrian steel armor.

So if Dany is going to go mad because of genetics, then there is every chance that Jon will as well.

But from a narrative point of view, the author wants us to question if Dany will go the same way as her father. The mad king Aerys III is a part of Dany’s story. She questions if she is going to become her father. Other characters – allies and enemies – do the same. It’s a conflict that Dany wrestles with as she comes to terms with her Targaryen identity. It’s an obstacle she faces as she takes on both enemies and friends.

"Freedom to starve?" asked Dany sharply. "Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?" Am I mad? Do I have the taint? (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

A shadow. A memory. No one. She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

The old knight did not blink. "Your father is called 'the Mad King' in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?"

"Viserys did." The Mad King. "The Usurper called him that, the Usurper and his dogs." The Mad King. "It was a lie."

"Why ask for truth," Ser Barristan said softly, "if you close your ears to it?" He hesitated, then continued. "I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not . . ."

". . . my father's daughter?" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she?

". . . mad," he finished. "But I see no taint in you."

And then there is the discourse that her enemies start about her being mad. The propaganda that she is just like her father. Propaganda that will no doubt be also used in Westeros.

The clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. "Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She's broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood." (ADWD, The Windblown)

Madness and the mad king is nowhere in Jon’s story arcs or narrative themes. GRRM still thinks that R+L=J is some big secret and was so impressed that Benioff and Weiss figured it out he gave them the show. The author does not question whether Jon is going to become a mad Targaryen with a fascination for burning people to death.

Jon’s internal conflicts and the problems he has to surmount are different in nature. He is a bastard born of ‘lust and deceit’. If we want a connection here to the Targaryens that explores Jon’s narrative arc, then there is the Blackfyre rebellion. Daemon Blackfyre’s attempt to usurp the throne is used as an example in Westeros to be wary of all bastards, noble or base born.

So if the speculation is that Dany is going to turn into her father and become the mad queen, then the narrative equivalent for Jon would be that he would be a deceitful usurper who takes Winterfell from his trueborn siblings.

And this is something that is explored in Jon’s story.

When Stannis offers Winterfell to Jon, the only reason he does not accept is because of his oaths as a NW brother and his reluctance to burn down the heart trees in Winterfell. But in his heart, he wants it.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger … he could feel it. — Jon Snow, ASOS

Just as Dany wrestles with whether she will turn into her father, Jon wrestles with his feelings of wanting Winterfell and feeling ashamed of those feelings.

His dreams in regards to this are interesting:

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck. "I am the Lord of Winterfell," Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled …- Jon XII, ADWD

Jon literally beheads Robb in his dreams.

There is a lot of speculation here that after he comes back from the dead, we are going to get a darker Jon Snow who is going to go after Winterfell and not care much about the trueborn siblings ahead of him in the queue. We could see conflict between Jon and Rickon or Jon and Sansa. The original outline hinted that Jon and Bran would not get along.

And just like Dany faces the ‘Mad Queen’ propaganda because of Aerys III, Jon too faces the biased prejudice against bastards because of the actions of Daemon Blackfyre. While prejudice against bastards existed before then, the Blackfyres are often used as an example to caution against them.

Catelyn’s hatred for Jon Snow is based on the fear that someday he would usurp and take away Winterfell from her children.

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Similarly the Blackfish – having not even met Jon Snow – distrusts him.

"I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark's bastard is the Lord Commander on the Wall."

The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Did your father arrange for that as well? Catelyn never trusted the boy, as I recall, no more than she ever trusted Theon Greyjoy. It would seem she was right about them both..." - Jaime Lannister, AFfC

The existing prejudices against bastards in Westeros is strong.

"Trueborn children are made in a marriage bed and blessed by the Father and Mother, but bastards are born of lust and weakness." - Jon Snow

Orys Baratheon was a baseborn half brother to Lord Aegon, it was whispered, and the Storm King would not dishonor his daughter by giving her hand to a bastard. The very suggestion enraged him.

Go away, I wanted only Freys up here, the King in the North has no interest in base stock.— Walder Frey to little Walda Rivers

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father he could as good a true son as Robb Stark - Jon Snow

So both Jon and Dany face internal conflicts and the author wishes to interrogate if Dany can overcome her own self doubts with respect to her father and society’s opinions of her and if Jon can overcome his desires and personal ambition for Winterfell and society’s opinions of bastards as untrustworthy and deceitful.

If a reader is therefore making the argument that Dany will become the mad queen like her father and burn down everyone – they should also rightfully be arguing for Jon turning against his family for a selfish power grab and essentially turning into Daemon Blackfyre.

Remember how Daemon took the Targaryen sigil with colors reversed – a black dragon on red giving him the nickname ‘The Black Dragon’

Jon was referred to as the ‘White Wolf’ on the show and as per the books, two bastards have reversed the sigils. Jon’s direwolf Ghost is white and he would therefore have a white wolf on a grey background as opposed to the Stark grey direwolf on a white background.

The sexism arises when Dany is singled out for turning into exactly what her enemies expect her to be, while the Starks overcome societal prejudices and expectations and end up the heroes. That, while Dany turns into her father, Jon Snow continues to love his Stark family (i.e Sansa Stark) so much and would sacrifice everything for them.

The show’s thesis and final message for these Targaryens is that they cannot rise above their birth and are exactly what society makes of them. That their final destiny is decided from birth and that they cannot change it no matter how much they tried. Daenerys turned into her father, randomly burned down KL for no reason and massacred thousands. Jon Snow pretends to support her, gets close to her, deceives her and kills her. He becomes a kinslayer, a queenslayer, a traitor – deceitful and untrustworthy and is exiled. It was an utterly nihilistic ending for house Targaryen.

I strongly believe that GRRM is not heading in this direction for these characters. It would be very disappointing if this is what he intends for them. It would indeed be sexist if GRRM wrote Dany as turning into her father, while Jon remains good and faithful to his family. From my reading and interpretation of these books, the story is about these underdogs triumphing over their internal conflicts. The conclusion of this tale would be Dany not turning into the mad queen, Jon not turning into a deceitful traitor, Arya not fleeing Westeros because she does not belong, Bran becoming king despite being a cripple.

But that is the final answer. In the meantime, GRRM means to explore these characters and their narrative themes and conflicts. In that context, it’s valid to question and theorize whether a possible direction for Dany’s story is her becoming her father. Five books in there is nothing to support this theory, but it is a theme that GRRM is interested in examining for the character of Daenerys Targaryen.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Jon Snow #asoiaf #anti GOT #asks

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lesserfandomappreciation · 3 years

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This is probably a tall order, but I was wondering if you could do some general personality headcanons for the Deadly Six from Sonic Lost World? It hurts my heart that the characters weren't more popular, but I can understand why at the same time since they're not that fleshed out. I mean, there's hints of stuff here and there, it's just not much. But the zeti have potential, damn it! Let me know if you want some specifics on things, of if you wanna do this in pieces. Thanks for your time~

WORLD BUILDING! World building and character building is my ham so I’m thrilled to do this! This actually become significantly longer than intended.

So I have never played this game, so I’m basing this exclusively off a few cutscenes I managed to find and general initial impressions. Let me know if you want something more in-depth!

Deadly Six reimagined (Sonic Lost World)

General

The Zeti race as a whole is referred to as “demons” with the Deadly 6 appearing to be the deadliest of their species. Heavily implied in the game is the fact that the Zeti are a lethal, violent race taking pride in practiced malevolence.

An entire race being evil or amoral is not only an outdated trope, but one with really icky origins so knackers to that I’m throwing in some of my own world building.

Based on how the Deadly 6 are all either disciples of or literally Master Zik, the reimagined!Zeti race is less malevolent so much as focused on attainment of glory and recognition. Every person is expected to discipline themselves into a strong, powerful being capable of great achievements. Competition is rampant with rivalry being imposed from a young age.

Despite rivalry, those who study under a common Master consider themselves as a structured force or clan representing their Master and his/her/their ideology. Master Zik in particular holds the ideology of complete domination of foes and enforcing the strength that already exists. Those who come across his clan often get the impression the Zeti exist to conquer when really, it is only in response to what is done to them to remind people not to mess with them.

Zeti are driven by the goals of communal recognition; challenges make individuals stronger, thus reinforcing the people as a whole. Spar-matches and challenges are inherent in the society. Clans and individuals alike compete to bring glory.

But. There is an unspoken rule amongst the Zeti that keeps things from ever turning to a full blood bath. Zeti do not turn against their own Clan or family (both if they are one in the same as is the case with many). The idea of any Zeti attacking a sibling in learning or a relative is unheard of - any who did that are considered dishonorable and risk expulsion as a whole from society.

Master Zik

Utter the name “Zik” in any Zeti plaza. Previous foes will wilt in cowardice. Pride from their allies puffs up further. The average Zeti, neither friend nor foe, will still be able to share a tale or two of one of the greatest warriors to have ever trained.

In a society focused on discipline and achieving greatness, Zik went above expectations. Bars he set have but rarely been neared. Until Zavok, most were largely considered impossible to meet.

Zik is a unique Zeti. Warriors do set Clans up to welcome new students and carry on their name, but Zik is not an easy master. His ideology of domination is standard but his ideas of strength are incredibly unique in a world where weakness is to be quelled and trained away. Zik believes that the inherent strength within an individual should be harnessed instead of ignored. Any skill can be made combative if one knows how to master it completely.

In all his years Zik took on only a handful of students, with only 5 ever making it into his inner circle and being official members of his Clan. He is not an easy teacher.

Obstacles are nothing to this little Zeti. He has faced a lifetime of challenges due to his small stature and his unique powers. Strategy, cunning and an overwhelming drive to be strong allowed him to rise above the ranks. Any challenge he faces he knows has a solution - it is a difficult task to actually perturb him to the point of nerves.

It’s specifically because of his lifetime of difficulties that he taught all his students to eradicate their foes so thoroughly. Too many times his mercy let to more foes than needed. Crush a foe and all they hold dear, and no one will ever come to avenge their broken ashes.

Zik views himself as a father figure turned advisor to the group. In his heart of hearts, they are his pride and joy. He could not leave them. Bedridden and frail he’s still drag his way alongside them to keep these youngsters of his on the right path.

Zomom (First Disciple)

Zomom is the eldest of Master Zik’s student, being the first welcomed into Zik’s inner circle. This is a matter of great pride for him and makes him very protective of the others as a result. Zavok holds the title of leader but it is no secret that the eldest of the students holds his fellow disciples close to his heart much how an older brother might view his siblings.

Zomom knows a lot about the other members of the team. They feel comfortable around him one-on-one, often using him as a quiet listener to talk through their thoughts.

Zomom is a strange Zeti. By height and strength he should have been a popular choice amongst his people. Yet his lack of common sense and social norms made it difficult to fit into society’s definition of a good warrior. The perceived lack of discipline in terms of food also earned him backlash from others. Emotional manipulation is an effective way of ensuring they didn’t have to fight the giant warrior physically.

It was his sincerity, his genuine sense of being and wanting to learn, that made Master Zik bring him in as a student, then disciple. Zomom is genuine, true person who could not tell a life to save his life but still tries so hard to survive in a world where lying is viewed as not just acceptable but required in some social circles. Zik saw his food abilities and build, before tailoring his training to include more food intake and improve speed.

Most affable of the Deadly 6, Zomom may be the butt of the joke at some times but they would all be furious should any harm befall him. Zomom’s willingness to shrug off insults does not sit well with any of them and they will gladly take the place of his vengeful fury to ensure it does not happen again.

Seeing one or two of the Deadly 6 relaxing with Zomom when they are burned out or want to slow down is common.

Zazz (The Second Disciple)

This is a case of a master forcibly adopting a feral child than a student asking a master to teach them. Zomom who was there the day Zazz was brought in to be taught is the only one besides Zik who knows why the Master took such a shining to Zazz, though the most he ever says on the matter is “It was like looking at a silly mirror.”

Zazz is almost the perfect Zeti. Intensely strong, with an immense battle-hunger. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more terrifying opponent. The issue lies with that same battle hunger that would make them popular in other circumstances. The whole point of the Zeti’s competitiveness is that it is, somehow, disciplined and the result of self-control/personal growth. Zazz’s entire motivation can be summed up as “because I want to.”

Zazz is very much a wild child turned wild adult with a lot of energy to burn. The ideas of the Zeti bore them a lot - why should they spend time proving himself when everyone’s so much weaker than them? They’d rather be seeking out good opponents or filling theirs time doing things that feed his ever-flickering attention.

Despite their very intense personality, Zazz is fiercely protective of the clan. They’re the only ones to really indulge Zazz’s wide range of interests and teach them a few of their own. One day they may be with Zeena learning new techniques to make their appearance fiercer, the next they’re in the shadows with Zor learning a shadow technique that will absolutely scare the shit out of Master Zik, this time for sure!

Picks up skills like a dog gets fleas. They’re not a master at any of them but the way they’re able to combine them makes them a fearsome opponent, a lethal prankster and find something to connect over with anyone.

Zeena (The Third Disciple)

Female-identifying Zeti are held to the same standard as any other Zeti so her presence in the Clan isn’t entirely unexpected. However, many Zeti tend to prefer Clans of their own gender out of comfort or outright preference.

Youngster Zeena, known for her cold intensity, had her pick of the litter in terms of Masters - her tethering abilities made her a powerful long-distance opponent, and her technology skills make her a verifiable weapon powerhouse. Her choice to go for Master Zik was a surprise, but Zik accepted her.

In truth, she went for Master Zik because she didn’t want to just be a long-distance specialist. She wanted a Master who could hone her abilities to be used in more creative ways. Zomom and Zazz’s successes got her attention.

With Zik she learned to use her tethering abilities to completely control the field. Able to move quickly, redirect her opponents and load the battle field with her varied arsenal, facing off against Zeena is incredibly difficult.

Always looking to perfect her abilities as the “Perfect Zeti Fighter” Zeena spends a lot of time perfecting her body to make it superior to other Zeti. Outside of that in her lab she’s developing new weapons with distinct abilities to use in combat. Bouncy bombs, whips with unique charges - she’s offered to create some for the rest of the team, but they’ve only accepted limited help.

Zeena views herself as the pinnacle of Zeti power, with the ability to do more. She holds the rest of the Deadly 6 to the same standard and is not above offering weapons advice or ways to improve their appearance to terrify their enemies into a stupor.

Zor (The Fourth Disciple)

Zor was not expected to succeed. There are many ways to be considered a successful Zeti - strength, speed, smarts. Lurking in the shadows is not traditionally viewed as particularly impressive. Zor’s inclination to the shadows made him unpopular in the society.

In turn, this made Zor dislike society as a whole and develop a severe nihilistic attitude that continues to plague him to this day. Why should he trust a system that failed him so badly anyway? It is ultimately pointless.

Zor didn’t so much as join the Clan as he was chased into the clan. Lurking in his shadows he didn’t know of the tall Zeti whose attention has zeroed in on the very interestingly-moving shadow until Zazz had already begun to give chase. Master Zik hadn’t a clue what to make of the huffy Zeti his Second Disciple had under his arm, but if Zazz saw talent in this one, it was worth exploring.

Zor’s abilities as a spymaster make him a vital part of the group. His abilities contribute to that but it is his powers of observation and deduction that really lend themselves to this role. Having been a spectator to his society for most of his life, he has developed powerful strategies to collect information at a mass scale - needless to say, trying to keep a secret from him is difficult.

The main introvert of the group, Zor struggles to be with them all at once. While he likes each one of them just fine (good luck getting him to say that) their overall energy can be overwhelming. He prefers to be with one-three people at a time to preserve his social energy.

Zavok (The Final Disciple)

Societies have ideal standards people strive towards. Often impossible to achieve, they’re viewed more as a lifetime goal than a realistic achievement. Those who do manage to hit it are considered to be above others as they command respect. Amongst the Zeti, that impossible person is Zavok.

Zavok himself comes from an impressive lineage - all the Zeti before him have been great warriors, commanders, people filling leadership roles. Each generation of greatness placed more expectations upon the next and as an only child, Zavok had no one to share these burdens with. He exceled at them, but it was not the glory he sought. He wanted to great his own reputation free of his past.

The announcement of Zavok’s self-imposed expulsion from his lineage shook Zeti society to its core. His subsequent request to become Zik’s pupil further shook everyone, but Master Zik did have a penchant for collecting odd students. What was one more lost warrior seeking purpose?

Zavok evolved far beyond anyone could have guessed under Master Zik’s tutelage. Part of this was due to his own upbringing, but it truly was Zavok’s own determination and fast mind that let him adapt to Zik’s unusual forms of training. He wanted to become indomitable and he would do whatever it took to do so....

...But, he wasn’t quite perfect. Zavok is a brilliant minded individual, but upon reaching the inner circle, he realized that he was incredibly unused to working in a group. It took a great deal of time, self-reflection and humbling for him to become the leader he is to do, due in part to his own hang-ups he thought he had left behind with his family.

With time, he grows to respect each team member and view them as close family. Upon Zik’s retirement and Zavok’s ascension to the head of the Clan, Zavok was the undisputed respected and admired leader of the Clan, holding each of them in high regard and daring anyone to try and take what they had built.

#sonic #sonic lost worlds #zeti #worldbuilding #deadly six #i know nothing about these characters #I just watched a few cutscenes and ran with it #in the future #please limit to 5 characters #my imagination ran wild this time but it took so much longer than I though #imagine #sonic imagine

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anidealiveson · 3 years

Text

Thanksvember Master Post

Day 1 - Like Coming Home - It has a super rare “wholesome plot twist”! Without spoiling anything too huge, I really like that @julesherondalex took the time to talk about how important it is to take care of yourself first. You can’t love someone else properly, the way they deserve, if you don’t have that same love for yourself. I wasn’t expecting the heartbreaking scene, but the beautiful way in which that topic was was approached neither took away from the story or the joy.

Day 2 - Must Love Dogs - An incredibly fluffy (literally) fic that I loved reading. @rosehallshadowsinger did a really great job weaving Azriel and Elain’s canon personalities into this adorable AU scenario. It is obvious @rosehallshadowsinger took care to create believable personalities for two characters that didn’t get POVs in the books.

Day 3 - Striking Matches - I have to say that I wasn’t at all attracted to an AU fic about firefighters. I was also not a big Rowaelin fan before that, but I was work procrastinating so I gave it a try. Wellll, 30 parts later, I found myself delighted at the writing and sad it was over. I couldn’t believe how well @shyvioletcat cat was able to entirely re-characterize these two into such a different setting, yet still retaining what made them popular in the books. Aelin was perfect in her role as a snarky schoolteacher irritating the stoic firefighter Rowan. And the descriptions of the kids lining up at the firehouse demonstration and Jake’s adorable prodding was icing on the cake.

Day 4 - Close Quarters - I really loved the way @lady-therion wrote Nesta in this modern AU. I particularly like how she equates Nesta’s sometimes standoffish attitude as a very relatable personality trait. She has trouble reading people and gauging situations. It’s well written and the dialogue is unique for a plot that is common in ff!

Day 5 - Like A Lonely House - It’s got a colossal I love Lucy level misunderstanding mixed in with a lot of tension and angst. This Nesta that is full of sacrifice and duty and fire is how I imagine the Nesta who feels that she has a stake in the Fae world would be like. @featherymalignancy wove such a captivating new world in Macar, that it felt a lot like being introduced to the 8th court in the ACOTAR world.

Day 6 - Death Dance - There are several takes out there that touch on Nesta in the Ilyrian camps, but I love how @thewayshedreamed interpreted Nesta’s skills on the battlefield as a calculated dance. Nesta has always been a raging storm, but I love how @thewayshedreamed took care to show us a Nesta that channeled that storm into discipline. If SJM never intended to release a Nessian focused book, I would have considered this a satisfying end to their story.

Day 7 - One Night Standards - I love the way @sassyhobbits writes Aelin with her typical extremely sassy exterior, but also made sure to saddle her with a vulnerable side that runs deep. I normally don’t care for slow burns, but I like the pace of her relationship with Rowan here, and that they had to work hard at it. I also like the plot lines that involved their PR stunts and how the public grew to love them as well.

Day 8 - Goose Chasing - Its the most absurd plot of any fanfic I’ve read! The title is not figurative. Its really does involve chasing a goose. @rhysismydaddy did a fantastic job encapsulating the spirit of silly Cassian and grumpy Nesta in a situation they’d likely never find themselves in, yet making it entirely believable.

Day 9 - Manon Chooses The Worst Babysitter Possible - It’s such a casual and fluffy and hilarious read. It was fun to read about a softer and more delicate Manon. Through this absurd mistake, @sarah-bae-maas did an excellent job really humanizing Manon and postulating a fun in-world domestic scenario.

Day 10 - My Hunger Knows No Bounds - @perseusannabeth manages to take a simple concept and weave a sweet narrative. I particularly love how @perseusannabeth incorporated her personal details into it and took the time to share her lovely culture with us.

Day 11 - Knowing me, Knowing you - We never got to actually see Aelin rule Terrasen (well we got a tinyyy bit) in the books. Though this was modern day, @nalgenewhore tells a fun story of what that could have been like.

Day 12 - Forever (is a long time) - @noodlecatposts takes Elide and Lorcan’s completely polar opposite personalities and spins an interesting (and frankly quite adorable) story. All the rules crack me up. My favorite Lorcan is the one that reminds me of Luke Danes from Gilmore Girls. Currently, he is in the middle of grumpily fixing up her flooded room, so I am sure that my favorite parts are yet to come.

Day 13 - Go Your Own Way - I appreciate @tomtenadia for putting to words a scene that I desperately wanted in ACOWAR or even ACOFAS. A lovely parallel to an equally lovely Fleetwood mac song.

Day 14 - In Which She Makes A Friend - It is no surprise that the fandom wants Nesta to find her place in the Illyrian mountains and even bring about some social change with the female warriors. But the way @bookstantrash got there was such a wonderful and endearing journey. Big fan of the callbacks to how Kaelin was treated and the similarities to a certain Illyrian warrior was when he was younger. We got to see a sweet Nesta, who I’d like to think was attempting to make up for some of her regrets through taking care of Kaelin.

Day 15 - The Ranch - As a huge fan of Sweet Home Alabama, its should be no surprise that I loved this fic by @tacmc . I enjoyed the slow change that we saw in a stubborn Nesta as she opened up to this new way of life and reconnected with her sisters and found a home with Cassian.

Day 16 - Felons - Such a unique interpretation of Nesta and Cassian. I really like the self-sacrificing Nesta angle and @rhysismydaddy did a great job weaving intrigue into the unraveling of what we knew to be a her innocence. I never read The Witness, but this really made me want to.

Day 17 - Of Books and Timber - Cassian offers to build a shelf for Nesta. The way @duskandstarlight goes through the entire range of emotions through Nesta is brilliant. She starts out with cold indifference, but by the end, we get from her a sweet and tender gesture of gratitude. Showing that meeting each other halfway with small gestures is all they ever needed.

Day 18 - You Should Sleep In My Bed More Often - I absolutely loved this quick exchange between Nesta and Cassian after she accidentally injures him. I can’t believe how much I laughed out loud when Cassian said “I need you to protect me closer”. @charincharge perfectly captured the teasing childish essence of Cassian and Nesta’s hilarious victim-blaming was so on the nose that I might have thought this was taken right out of ACOSAF.

Day 19 - The Right Swipe - I really enjoyed this take on the inner circle mixed with the super modern online dating plot. I especially love that @redisriding created genuinely realistic characters (body issues, social anxiety etc). Great read!

Day 20 - Goldfish Prompt - What a fun read. I love how frantic and much personality Feyre had here. I love how dedicated to her fish she was, and how that made her super endearing. Cute read from @azrielsiphons

Day 21 - The One With The Snowstorm - What I really like is that Cassian actually says that he is sorry for his part in Nesta’s exile. I am not bitter about it, but it was an interesting turn. They need to meet halfway here and I rarely see it so well written as @joysbell has done here!

Day 22 - Prompt - A lovely and cute and sweet prompt written by @crowsvalentine! I love the ramp up of suspense just to get to the hilarious payoff. Its adorable and worth the quick read.

Day 23 - Fix It - is one by @thewayshedreamed that I love in its simplicity. It’s a small little argument Cassian and Nesta get into, but its still compelling. It’s sweet and super endearing the way the two of them are written and the subtle way they work through it. Great read!

Day 24 - I Do Bad Things To You - The mob angle may have been done before, but I don’t think with as much care and regard that @tswaney17 has been giving it. I how the canon personalities of the characters translate so well into this modern AU. Its very obvious that @tswaney17 has done her research. I especially love all the details around Elain as a surgeon. The story is compelling and well written and every chapter has me wanting more.

Day 25 - Love Her Like She should Be Loved - This is an excellent fic that I really loved. @julemmaes did such a great job translating some of the canon tension from ACOFAS into a modern world. It’s ripe with emotion, drama and quite a bit of heart. I love how earnestly Cassian comes to Nesta’s defense even in the face of going against his entire family. I like the reference to some very real psychological struggles. I think a lot of people can relate to it.

Day 26 - Literally In Love - I really enjoy the subtle mystery that follows this entire journey. I enjoy that @julesherondalex keeps us guessing, while simultaneously weaving a sweet and tender story about two shy teachers and just a slew of mishaps worthy of a Shakespearian drama.

Day 27 - The Shadow Bond - I love Azriel, and this is such a wonderful fic by @radientwings focusing on how his shadows might work. His shadows are the one thing that I am most curious about him in the series, so it was lovely to read such a well written interpretation of them.

Day 28 - Exes and Oh’s - Just a shout out to @highqueenofelfhame for this lovely story about rekindling past love. I like that even though the plot was uncomplicated, the emotions were not. I love that Aelin didn’t have a perfect reason for what she did, but sometimes that is just how things are. This is a story about taking a second chance, whether it’s deserved or not.

Day 29 - Fever - I really love this fic called Fever. I enjoyed how @lady-therion portrayed Nesta. She hit the entire gammut of characteristics (snarky, worried, vulnerable, caring, short-tempered, flirty, you name it!) but it really worked here. I found this nurse Nesta to be endearing and relatable and the dynamic between her and Cassian was very sweet. Just go read the damned thing.

Day 30 - Baby Steps - I really really love this fic. @runesandfaes did such a great job in just so few words to show a really sweet moment between Chaol, Yrene and their daughter learning to walk. I love the parallel back to when Chaol was learning to walk and the cameo of the golden couch. So sweet.

#thanksvember #fanfics #fanfiction

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writingstarling · 3 years

Text

Sweetness in Tranquility (BOTW Zelink)

Zelda was strolling through a small forest a little outside of Castletown; embraced by the sweet air nipping at her skin. She had taken the chance of her knight attendant’s absence to enjoy this moment of solitude. Perhaps she had finally been acquainted to her knight attendant and was treading on friendly terms, but once in a while she missed the feeling of solitude when often times so many eyes were on her with expectations. Of course, she didn’t think of her knight attendant as one of them, but she never really could feel at peace with that thought.

The slight rumble of her tummy brought her out of her intense research on the flowers swaying powerlessly at the mercy of the wind. She considered returning to the castle, but she didn’t want to let her peace escape her fingertips just yet. With that in mind she decided to search for some berries or fruits to satiate her hunger, even if it was just temporarily. It didn’t take long for her to discover a delectable scarlet fruit dangling on a thin branch.

Her relatively small hands took hostage the lowest and second lowest branches to propel herself higher with the help of her legs. Branch by branch she rose, until finally she reached the desire of her rumbling stomach. With one arm outstretched and the other encircling the nearest branch, she tried to reach the bright red apple. Zelda’s brows furrowed in focus, legs forced to push herself further. The literal apple of her eye was before her just a few inches away. Bit by bit she began to release her grip on the branch in order to go further. Finally, with only her hand holding onto the branch, she managed to capture the desire of her heart.

A feeling of accomplishment flooded her chest and a warm buzz snaked its way to her. In the slight instance her tense muscles relaxed, she was left careening down with little to no less registration and nothing to catch herself with. Her eyes clenched in preparation as her arms shielded her face the best it could.

Zelda felt her body collide with something. Too tense and well-structured to be a convenient bush nearby; too soft and comforting to be the ground she had her feet planted on minutes ago. She shifted her arms to create a gap and peeked through. Before her was… an almost indescribable figure with the head of what seemed to be an ancient entity and the body of a normal – slightly well-built – human. He was fashioned in a simple cream hylian tunic paired along with a pair of basil green shorts. The mask – she decided to assume – the person wore was one that would fascinate her if she weren’t so befuddled with its existence.

“Thank- thank you, can you, please put me down?” Silently the figure complied, gently placing her leaned onto the base of the tree.

On the ground, Zelda grasped at the chance to take the mask her saviour wore under deeper scrutiny. It was shaped similar to a heart as the base with spikes sprouting from it, two on top and four others on each of its lower sides. Each horn goldish-yellow with a smudge of different colour on every one, twinning only with its neighbour across. The heart was a mix of several colours; much of its higher part is coloured a royal purple and the rest of it mostly a crimson red, lined with intricate and ancient designs of various colours. Lastly, the most nerving feature of said mask was the pair of parakeet eyes boring at her with its flame coloured sclera.

The time she took letting her curiosity feast upon its new interest distracted her from the hand drawn towards her with the goal of her little journey and near pain resting comfortably on it. She voiced her gratitude before releasing her saviour from his small additional burden. Her stomach yearned for her to the very least have a nibble at the scarlet fruit, but her mind was keen and too well-trained in mannerism to allow herself to display such rudeness. Instead she merely placed the fruit on her lap and endeavoured to strike a conversation with her saviour. Perhaps even inquire him of the origins of his mask.

“Would, you like to sit down?” Zelda gestured towards the space beside her.

The figure remained silent – contemplating her offer, perhaps – before giving her a nod and shuffling towards her; settling down, nuzzled by the lush greenery with a respectful distance between them. They rested under the graceful shade of the vigorous tree, silence enveloping them in an awkward, yet somehow comfortable ambience. Zelda toyed with her apple, rolling and rubbing it whilst her mind travelled far and wide for a solution to broach the subject of said mask.

It was then that she came to a sudden awareness of her discourtesy, “Uhm, if I’m not too bold, would you mind as to give me your name?”

A pregnant pause followed her question and Zelda had nothing else to do, but be in the mercy of the mask’s vacant stare. Frankly, the stare of the mask’s eyes sent a chill crawling through her spine. It wasn’t quite simply due to its horrendous design itself; there was something else deep within her that squeezed and twisted her heart each time it was directed towards her. It was as if those same pair of eyes had stared into her very soul and–

“Do…,” his voice pierced through her train of thought, “Do you not recognise me?”

His voice was hoarse and brimmed with much hesitance, as if one mistake would cost him his life. Is her title that intimidating? was the question she tucked under her tongue. However, there was also a sense of familiarity in his voice that Zelda recognised despite the assurance she had that the voice was one she was not entirely familiar with. Perhaps it's caused by the mask, she reasoned.

“My apologies, but I do not seem to recall ever meeting someone with such a mask.”

“Mask…?” his hand shot up to the aforementioned cover. Frantically, patting away on it with something that Zelda could only deduce as sudden realisation.

A giggle threatened to burst free from her throat. For one to not realise they were wearing a mask of that size was more humorous than it was befuddling for her. Despite her pressing urge to unleash the flurry of giggles threatening to escape, the princess held her poise and regally coughed her laughter away to the side before offering her pardons.

“Pardon me, Princess,” the figure spoke, straightening himself up. His hands reached towards the mask, fiddling with the strings attached until it freed its grip from his head.

Streams of auburn hair peeked through as the mask started to unravel. A familiar shade, Zelda noted. The process unfolded in slow-motion before her eyes and a mixture of feelings was unleashed upon her in realisation. Afore her stood her knight attendant – in casual clothing, her mind supplied.

“Link?! Y-you–!” her eyes were wide as dinner plates; the finger that once toyed with her fruit was solely focused on pointing aim at Link’s figure as her body arched back by a few inches; her other hand supporting her weight and her apple rolling away, forgotten.

Link offered her no other response than a respectful bow on his knee. They remained in silence. Link unwavering in his position and Zelda taking the time to regain her lost grace and composure. Exhaling deeply, Zelda huffed before returning to her once more refined conduct.

“Link, you may rise.” The hero did as such, his body looming over her and casting another shade over her form. He stood with the squared shoulders of a well-groomed soldier. Ever so dutiful, always on guard.

“Please, sit down.” Again, the hero complied. Placing himself a tad farther than he was before, expanding the gap between them.

Zelda watched him with the intensity of a researcher, her eyes boring at him in hopes to receive – at the bitter least – some scraps of information. Alas, her knight was ever stoic in his countenances. However, other than his sapphire tunic, which she had crafted for him, she felt something else to be amiss in his appearance. Her eyes scanned him like a well-oiled machine. Determined to satisfy the mystery her mind had provided.

Then, it hit her. “Where is your sword?”

“With the Great Deku Tree. For safety,” his gaze was locked over his shoulder, where the Master Sword would usually reside. Faded grey clouds covering his brilliant sapphire eyes.

“Why didn’t you take it with you to your home town?”

Link shrugged, facing her once more, “Didn’t think I’d need it.” Didn’t want the attention, were the words that lingered in the air despite never leaving his lips.

Zelda hummed. The words that were left hovering in the air between them was something she understood well. After the day he had poured a piece of his heart to her in the small moments of vulnerability they shared behind prying eyes, she started to see the similarities between them. The hero she had berated so much was a lot like her in many ways, including his fears. The weights abruptly placed upon his shoulders were the same as hers after all.

Funny, however, she managed to receive warning. She had known her destiny since birth. It was her birth right; her legacy. She knew of what’s to come. Link, on the other hand, never had such privilege. His destiny caved upon him like a sudden boulder spat by Death Mountain himself, and even that had more apprise than what Link had received.

“That mask, might I ask where you got it?”

Link opened his mouth to speak, before his teeth met and his mouth clamed shut. But again he tried, his voice smaller than usual, “I found it in the storage of my home.”

Zelda quirked a brow. Her knight never sounded so timid; even when he spilled his deepest fears and held his heart boldly upon his sleeve, his voice held the integrity and force of a well-deserved captain. Zelda took it as cue to let her questions rest in the back of her head and deprive her curiosity of satisfaction.

“I see.”

Again they fell in silence. A silence that occurred many times before she had come to terms with him, uneasy and out of place. Zelda shifted her attention to the leaves loyally shading them from the scorching sun's glare. Drinking up every detail she could until she halted at a particular leaf.

The tips of it were shifting in colour and becoming out of sync with the rest of the flock. Summer was coming to a closure and autumn had begun to announce its arrival. It meant that the harvest crops were going to change, her meals would also shift into something more supported by the weather, and that time was passing by her fingertips as Ganon's awakening marched closer.

The thought sent shivers crawling up and down her spine. Her prayers had yielded no progress and fruited nothing but disappointment in her father's gaze. No matter what she did, she felt no power coursing through her veins; no voice in her head; and absolutely nothing other than the freezing chill that stubbornly clung onto her courtesy of the springs' waters.

But what else could she do? She had scoured every theory, practiced every method, spent hours on end standing in icy waters praying to a goddess who turned a deaf ear no matter what she did. There were no longer any cards or tricks she could even fathom to try. All she could do was pray. Pray to a statue who smiled to her in indifference to her pain.

A hand came a few inches to her face during her time staring at space. In the hand was her hard-earned fruit whom she had forgotten in the moment. She directed herself to her knight; his hand tentatively awaiting her response and a miniscule smile that whispered a thousand encouragements, more than anyone had ever given her. Her heart forgot its normal tempo.

Zelda exhaled; all of her frustration, stress, anxiety, fear, and self-deprecation in one swift breath. The other breath was her gratitude towards her companion and a smile, soft and private touched her lips as she brushed her hand against his and retrieve her appointed snack.

In this moment, there were only the two of them. No darkness sealing sword, no endless search of power, no weight forced upon their shoulders. In this moment, it was just her and her friend. In this moment, she could sit under the shade and enjoy the fruit she had rightfully earned and just breathe. In that moment, she took a bite.

It tasted sweet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so... this took an unexpected turn. I actually started this about a few weeks ago and after that I only continued it about a few days ago so it's probably confusing bc I forgot what I planned to go with this. So if you're confused it's alright! Bc I too am lol. But I posted it still bc after rereading it I think it would still make sense? So here it is.

Btw, this is my first LoZ fanfic so I hope this went well with you all. Cheers!

#loz #loz botw #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #botw zelink #tloz botw #zelink #zelda x link #zelda #link #link breath of the wild #zelda botw #zelda breath of the wild #link botw #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #fanfiction

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contentwerewolf · 4 years

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[The fall] [Fun doodles] [Keyblades]

Fun fact: This was the only thing planned to do w/ this AU haha; how do I not know myself by now ;w; Also, here’s Anti!Qrow w/ Harbinger (I’ve never noticed him holding scythe form that way, so I thought it would be an interesting thing for Anti to do ^^)

Watch me cry, all my tears

After months of being trapped in Disney purgatory the Dark Realm, barely sleeping, not eating/nor needing to, near constant fighting, and being haunted by visions of friends/family/regrets. Qrow reaches a “dead end” (yes I’m ripping off part Aqua’s plot don’t @ me) there he’s attacked by a Demon Tower. Now, if he was at full strength and not so mentally exhausted, he would’ve had a high chance at escaping the void but, unfortunately, he’s consumed and is lost to the darkness. Clover feels that in his heart of hearts

It’s only a couple weeks (days?..weeks..eh) following that, that the displaced group of hunters have found their way to the door of darkness.They’re swarmed by Heartless, and when the door opens Clover, Ruby and Yang are practically forced through (they don’t want to leave everyone else to fight the hoard).

Since Clover, literally, holds Qrow’s heart (you know, w/o context that is super grim jfc) he basically has Qrowdar. What unnerves him is the feeling he’s held thus far had mostly been warm, turbulent and pained at times, but still strong. Now it’s cold, hazy and barely hanging on. Clover’s a sad boy but keeps a facade of optimism for the girls :,).

It’s takes a few days but they finally find their way to the shore where Qrow fell. They’re on edge from all the battles and visions that bombarded them. When DT appears they consider falling back to rest. That’s when Anti!Qrow appears from the void, drawn back by the strength of their hearts, destabilizing the tower causing it to disperse.

Qrow: What happened to me? You want that list alphabetical or chronological?

Anti!Qrow doesn’t want to fight them, he’s subdued and resigned and just wants to be left alone. His whole angsty speech boils down to: “I hurt everyone I love” “I belong in the darkness.” “All that’s left in my non-existent heart is despair. Leave me be, before I ruin you too.” :)

Yang is just done w/ this whole realm, and the terrible visions it creates. Believing this is just another illusion, she lashes out. Only to be blocked by Qrow’s own keyblade; all the others illusions faded as soon they were touched. Now she’s determined to beat some since into him and this is where the fight starts. Even though Clover and Ruby don’t really want to buuut...

Shamelessly stealing the duplicates from Aqua’s fight lol. Only because it would be creepy. Also, Qrow’s bad luck is strengthened (now turning this into a video game mechanic) has bursts at random. Anyone who gets hit suffers for it; either getting stunned, knocked back, or (as intended) getting a bad luck status infliction.

The way I played out the fight in my head; Qrow’s already a strong huntsmen (you don’t get a legendary title for nothing) who’s known to fight ruthlessly, combine that w/ keyblade powers and well. It’s in their favor that Qrow is tired and he’s also reluctant to fight them. It takes a while, but they finally whittle down his health that he enters phase 2 they can get a good few hits in. With a combination of Yang disarming him, Clover immobilizing him w/ KF’s line and Ruby using her silver eyes; they are able to dispel the darkness. The dark ocean tries to drag him down but, everyone’s hearts reaching out to him is what saves him from falling again. ^^

They end up back in Destiny Islands after that with Disney magic. They have no idea where the rest of their group is at the moment, but they’re confident they’ll be alright. Being back in the realm of light causes all the exhaustion and hunger hit them hard. So they rest while they wait for Qrow to wake up.

Once they get past Qrow having a near break down over Clover being alive, they explain all the craziness of what has been going on.

Qrow is one stubborn, old crow, so he insists that he’s alright; just in need of a nap and some food that’s all. He goes to stand up and would’ve hit the ground if Clover wasn’t ready to catch his bird. Unconsciousness doesn’t count as a nap buddy.

Also, Qrow’s heart hasn’t returned to him juuust yet 83c

💕 Feel free to send me any questions or shoot me ideas for my AU(s). 💕

#fair game #luckbirds #rwby #qrow branwen #clover ebi #ruby rose #yang xiao long #kingdom hearts AU #sorry all these posts are so lengthy #I just have....so many thoughts on my AUs ;w;#I should add AU hoe back into my description lol #Qrow. Your eyeliner is running.#Okay AntiAqua's aesthetic is neat so I slapped it on Qrow just to see how it would look #and I was like :o

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slimysnaildaddy · 4 years

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Snaddy I love ur fics, makes me feel less dysphoric more chaotic. Can u write dysphoric MC switching bodies with the bros? Their reaction is basically “I’ll keep your body forever now fuck you”. Bonus if they’re going through the monthly blood ritual and the guys have to deal with the pain and shit that comes with it

Thank you, that is literally the whole reason I started writing them. I’ll avoid the blood ritual thing because 1: mine is nonstandard due to medical conditions so i don’t have the usual experience, which means I don’t feel comfortable describing it, 2: i wish periods on no man, and 3: even just talking about the blood ritual too much makes me viscerally dysphoric lol.

Sorry this took so long! I wasn’t sure what sort of dysphoric/euphoric things I was supposed to add.

Lucifer:

Would probably be highkey freaking out and trying to keep calm. While MC is marveling at how tall they suddenly are and how deep and smooth their voice is now he’s like “what the fuck i’m so tiny look at these baby hands”.

MC, feeling up on their new chest: whoa i didn’t know you were so jacked wtf

Lucifer: stop that

If MC wears a binder or trans tape he’s like “why my chest feel like it’s being crushed, damn you live like this” lol buddy..... that just how it be.

MC starts being like “ooh dang you have a nice singing voice and everything, look at these nice shoulders” and Lucifer’s like haha yes prAISE ME bc pride man peacock boy but then MC’s like “i declare that this body is mine forever” and he’s like WAIT NO-

“Hey lulu” “What” “how do i horn up?” “????” “yknow. Poof, feather time. Get wingy.” “what are you even saying”

MC tries to get him to teach them how to go into demon form. He doesn’t. They figure it out anyway and have a great deal of fun petting their new horns and wings. And also knocking paintings off the wall and one candelabra off of a table bc they’re not used to having 4 big ass wings sticking out of their back.

There’s a 30 minute puppy dog eyes session of MC trying to convince Lucifer to let them keep his body.

They’re 90% sure the only reason it didnt work is cause Mammon walked in and saw what he thought was Lucifer begging MC with big puppy dog eyes and flipped tf out

Has a newfound desire to get stools. It has nothing to do with the fact that the coffee tin is on the very top shelf. Absolutely nothing.

Mammon:

Doesn’t realize what’s happened for a few seconds bc he’s so disoriented. Accidentally insults mc as a result.

“Ugh why does my voice sound like that” “that’s MY voice you asshole”

Immediately whines about wanting to get his body back. not cause mc’s is bad or anything he just would really like to be back in his own body please and thank you *sweating emoji*

Ngl he is VERY flustered bc he suddenly has rather intimate knowledge of what mc’s body is like and he’s 100% into it but he’s gotta be cool about it

he’s not cool about it. Not even a little bit.

especially when it comes time to pee or shower. MC has to stand in the room with him otherwise he feels like he’s doing something he shouldn’t lol

meanwhile MC is just running their hands down their new body like “mm flat chest”

Honestly he tries to make a scheme out of it and y’all know it. Probably tries to donate their blood or something. And trick his brothers before they find out what happened. None of them can say no to MC and he knows it. “Hey Satan can i borrow some grimm”

Very seriously considers it when MC is like “hey can we stay switch forever”. OBVIOUSLY for all the scheming potential and TOTALLY NOT BECAUSE MC LOOKS SO HAPPY DEFINITELY NOT NOPE

Levi:

He’s seen anime like this, but he’s not sure he expected it to happen to him. Much like Mammon, he tries to be cool about it and fails.

“Oh my god this is just like in [insert long ass anime title here] where the guy got bodyswapped with his really insecure love interest and they confessed because of it! 🥺” “... Alright then.”

Any time he looks down at himself or accidentally touches his own (previously MC’s) hips or anything of that nature he lowkey loses his mind. Actually apologizes to MC once cause he has to pee.

Meanwhile MC is like holy FUCK levi how are you so RIPPED look at these ABS while running their hands up and down their torso. Levi is blushing incarnate.

MC: wait wait wait. can i change forms?

They can.

“OH MY GOD CAN I BREATHE UNDERWATER NOW??? THIS IS AWESOME I’M STAYING LIKE THIS FOREVER”

Honestly the main reason Levi says no is because he’s pretty sure he’s gonna burst a blood vessel if he looks down and sees mc’s thighs again.

Satan:

Sighs.

“Not this again.”

Much like Lucifer (don’t tell him i said that) he’s a little bit shook when he realizes the discomfort an MC who binds is in. May or may not ask them if they want him to look up spells for that.

Is honestly fine with being in MC’s body for a while. At least it’s not Lucifer’s, right?

He really would like to be back in his own at some point though.

If MC starts feeling up his body while they’re in it he’ll halfheartedly try to get them to stop. He doesn’t mind the appreciation, though, so he’ll let them have their fun. As long as they don’t mind him learning a bit more about human anatomy. From a purely academy perspective, of course. ;)

MC figures out how to change forms and just lounges around on their stomach playing with his tail. He thinks it’s adorable. Then he goes to lay on his stomach by them and is like “oh, I now understand everything”.

Asmo:

Honestly? He probably caused this whole situation in the first place.

“Well, this isn’t too much of a downgrade. I think I can have a lot of fun like this~ ;3″

Is immediately ready to strip naked and get very acquainted with MC’s body. Even if they stop him, he’ll still be feeling himself up. He encourages MC to do the same. Especially if his uncontrollable horny doesn’t transfer over and they get stuck with it

Before you ask, yes he will try and get MC in bed with him with their switched bodies. Does it work? A mystery for the ages.

Instructs MC on how to shift forms. And also about all of his routines to keep his skin and hair etc looking as pristine and gorgeous as possible. He will be very upset if they don’t follow them. He’s going to want that body back eventually, so they better take care of it.

Takes advantage of the situation to dress up in cute outfits and take all sorts of pictures.

Sits down with MC and gushes about their body (haha no it’s totally not to give them a confidence boost what makes you think that >_>), expects them to do the same.

This man has the least amount of tiddy of all of them, and I can imagine a very dysphoric MC being pretty happy about that. When they say they wanna stay switched forever he considers it for a moment but he really would like his own body back. MC’s body is excellent, but nothing compares to the real deal.

Beel:

Initially very shocked at how comparatively tiny he is. Suddenly has a great appreciation and understanding of MC climbing up on counters to get stuff.

“Everything looks so much bigger :0″

Meanwhile MC is Suffering bc Honmngery. Too Homngr to pay too much attention to their new body, since they aren’t used to it like Beel is. He manages to get them fed though, and that’s when they start to realize they’re now tall, buff, and hot.

Has even more tiddy than MC does. I don’t care how big their tiddies are. Mine are huge and he still has more tiddy. But it’s nice muscle tiddy and that’s Lit and MC appreciates.

MC and Beel have to keep reminding each other of their strengths. Beel keeps forgetting he can’t just pick up 200 lb barbell weights and MC keeps having to restrain themself cause Stronk.

Is 100% okay with it if/when MC starts getting friendly with their new muscles. It’s nice to be appreciated.

MC eats even more than Beel usually does bc they aren’t used to managing his hunger. The HOL is cleaned out within a day. No food remains, not even Levi’s shut-in stash.

Very nearly bows to the puppy dog eyes to let MC keep his body, but the spell wears off anyway :(. That’s okay, if MC wants to be tall or strong he can carry them around on his shoulders or try to figure out a workout plan for them.

Belphie:

Honestly? This guy’s a bit of a brat. Perfect Lucifer pranking opportunity.

“Hmm, now I get why you have so much energy.”

Tries to nap as much as usual cause he’s still lazy, but quickly learns about the agony of trying to lay on his stomach with the tid/binder.

This changes nothing, MC is still his nap buddy and he expects to snuggle with them. Or else.

MC literally sleeps for a solid 24 hours after switching bodies with him. He relates hardcore.

If they start appreciating his body, he’ll definitely get flustered. Not that he’s gonna let them know that. (they totally know it lol) He’ll still let them know how to change forms. Mostly so they can experience the struggle of trying to find a comfy position for his horns. Turnabout is fair play.

“Can I keep your body forever?” “No.” “aww why not?” “You’re short.” THE DISRESPECT

#cw body swapping #cw dysphoria #for once i'm actually tagging but it's mostly cause i need to add those cws #asks

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.” Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

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Hi, I'm late to the party but if you are still interested in doing the bookish asks: 1 and 7 + 13 + 18. I hope you have a good day!!!

It’s never too late!! (the book meme was back here, icymi)

1. Which book would you consider the best book you’ve ever read and why?

“Best” is such a subjective term.

On one hand, every single person who has ever met me in real life would call me a huge liar if I didn’t at least mention Infinite Jest. I love Infinite Jest. It blew my head off my shoulders. I think about it all the time, I talk about it incessantly. I read it twice in two years and I imagine I was absolutely insufferable at that time. It is a work of genius, an achievement beyond the bounds of normal humans. It is simultaneously extremely prescient (I have thought about the section about masks for video calls literally every day of the pandemic) and spectacularly wrong (the rise of Netflix would make people go watch a duck pond turn over, REALLY?) That being said, DFW was a very troubled man and a deeply problematic one. The book is far too white and male, and it has been championed by a particular breed of Shitty Dudes. To be honest, it’s not even a book. It’s the negative space of a book, a Fourier Transform of a book. I wish everyone would read it, and I make it a personal point to never, ever tell anyone to read it. But if you do, I am absolutely here to discuss the filmography of J.O. Incandenza at any time.

I read The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemison shortly after it won a Hugo in 2016, and I knew, upon reading it, that it was the most important speculative fiction book of my generation. It is everything specfic is supposed to be-- to challenge your place in the world, to make you feel both complicit and cheated by the systems around you, to make you rage at injustice, to make you want to change things. It is a very upsetting series-- many awful things happen to the main characters. I don’t recall it being particular gross or gory, just devastating. One of the central themes is the way that mothers try and fail to protect their children, and I read it at a time when I had small babies and I burst into tears constantly. Anyway, it’s an incredible set of books, but it’s not fun to read. As a bonus, as far as I can tell from interviews and her Twitter, N.K. Jemison is a very smart and cool person.

Finally, to round out the set: every time I read Howl’s Moving Castle, I am struck with what a perfect novel it is. It is small and cozy, exciting and sweet and weird and funny. If I could choose any novel in the world to have written, it would be Howl’s Moving Castle.

7. Have you ever despised something you have read?

Oh, boy, have I!

I can hold a grudge against a book much longer than I could ever hold a grudge against a person! In my old age, I have gotten in the habit of giving up on things that I am not enjoying, which has caused me to chill out a lot, but I do have some old hate-faves!

I used to hate Game of Thrones. I threw the second one across the room after some witch lady gave birth to some evil smoke. But these days, I just really feel for the fans, who seem like really nice folks. They got a shitty last season and they’re never going to get the last of those books. I also feel for G.R.R. Martin, because I can definitely imagine getting that far along with something and then pbbting on the floor, and I cannot bring myself to feel anything bad for him.

The Road was almost a good book. I will be honest, I only read it because I am deeply in love with the Fleet Foxes song White Winter Hymnal. The mechanics of cannibalism as so poorly envisioned in The Road. Look, I do not like thinking about cannibalism. I hate cannibalism. There are only two zombie movies I will watch and I want nothing to do with any Hannibal-related property. But The Road’s ideas about cannibalism is so bad that even I am offended by it. I was extremely gratified when my very specific complaints appeared in this classic The Toast piece.

The last book I hated was something by Brandon Sanderson that I hated so much that I refuse to look up the title. All the magic was color based, and there was one pretty cool lady fighter character who got upset because she trained so hard that she got really ripped and didn’t think she was pretty anymore. I can’t believe I finished that book.

13. How do you chose which book to read next?

I used to be a really well-rounded reader. I read a lot of non-fiction, mostly history of science, and the sort Malcolm Gladwell stuff that was popular in early aughts. Around the time of the first Ferguson protests, I made a practice of reading a lot of Black authors and non-fiction about Black people, for about a year. I would try to alternate books that met my reading aspirations with more “dessert” reading-- fluffy stuff, re-reading old faves, when something new by a beloved author would come out. I have had a couple of friends write books and I do make it a priority to buy and read them. Also, if a friend specifically asks me to read something because they want to talk about it, I will also prioritize it, this is my love language.

Anyway, after the 2016 election, my brain broke, I could no longer handle anything difficult and bad in my leisure time and I read exclusively YA for about a year. I kinda stopped reading books entirely in 2019 when I was obsessively writing fanfic, but I have gotten back into it lately. I choose what to read entirely based on whimsy. I have been reading Jane Austen books all summer, and I’m gonna read Sense and Sensibility next. It’s sitting on the coffee table, I just need to actually open it up.

18. Did you enjoy the Hunger Games?

The Hunger Games were... fine? I read a lot of YA, and they aren’t my favorites by any means, but they were exciting and I remember reading through them really fast. (I hesitate to say I *enjoyed* them, because they are not very fun books). Probably my hottest Hunger Games take is that I think they would have been substantially improved if they hadn’t been written in the first person.

The thing about Katniss is that she is honestly not a smart person. She’s a dummy. I... love this actually. Young women are so rarely allowed to stupid in media. It’s so much more common to see the Hermiones-- the girl who is smart and level-headed and sensible, where her male companions are fun and relatable and dumb as rocks. Katniss gets manipulated a lot-- that’s what the book is about, but it’s not in a dudes-trying-to-get-in-her-pants way, it’s in a society-trying-to-turn-her-into-a-tool, which is also a plotline that girls don’t get. Unfortunately, because it’s written in the first person, it’s pretty easy to get frustrated with the character, or feel like the book or the author is stupid, rather than that there is this dim bulb character getting led around by the nose. I think a third-person narration could give a more forgivable perspective on her. Katniss has a lot of good qualities-- she is brave and loyal and wants to do what’s right, and I think the books would be better served to make you, the reader, get righteously angry at the way she is being exploited, than to try to give you a view inside her head. I think this is also why the movies came out pretty good, although, to be fair, I think I only saw the first one.

#asks #book meme #i sure do have some opinions #bless you all for putting up with me

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vexedtonightmares · 5 years

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hey! are you still taking prompts? I was listening to this song called Valentino by Years & Years and MNEK and I was reading the lyrics and I thought that it would be an interesting plot for an elu AU. love your writting x

valentino

Was it possible to fall in love in a single instant, even when you knew you shouldn’t? Sure, Lucas was drunk and that made everyone a little bit prettier, but this boy was something else entirely. He seemed to be the name on everybody’s lips, but Lucas told himself he wouldn’t fall for it. He was done with pretty boys who wanted nothing more than to get him in bed and toss him aside, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fall in love from afar, just a little bit. Wasn’t that what clubs were for?

“Hello.” Lucas clearly hadn’t been paying enough attention, because suddenly the pretty boy was standing right in front of him, bright, innocent smile one his face. There was a saying, ‘You had me at hello’, and Lucas had never understood it until that moment. With one word, all of Lucas’ caution was thrown to the wind and he allowed himself to be led by the hand onto the dance floor. He didn’t even know the pretty boy’s name.

A hand wrapped around his, the other resting gently on his waist, and Lucas stopped breathing for a moment, trying desperately to clear his head. “What’s your name?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

The pretty boy cocked one eyebrow, smirk playing across his lips. “Eliott. And yours?”

“Lucas,” Lucas answered breathlessly, clearing his throat out of embarrassment. “I’m Lucas.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m dancing with you, Lucas, you looked so beautiful standing over there and I just couldn’t resist,” Eliott said, voice soft and alluring. Lucas knew it wasn’t true, knew it couldn’t be true, but what if it was? Had Eliott really seen him from across the room the same way he’d seen Eliott? It seemed impossible, but stranger things had happened.

The music shifted, and so did the mood. They started dancing slow, coming closer together even though Lucas’ mind was miles away. It was hard to stay distant, though, when Eliott’s hands felt like they belonged on his hips and he could hardly even hear the music anymore over the sound of his pounding heart.

It might have been all right, and he might have made it out alive, if Eliott hadn’t placed a finger under Lucas’ chin, drawing their eyes together. Lucas couldn’t hold back, he practically lunged forward to meet Eliott in a searing, passionate kiss. And woah, Eliott knew how to kiss. It had been longer than Lucas cared to admit since he’d been kissed with such hunger, and maybe that’s why he began to fall so hard.

There were some things you couldn’t fake, and nothing about this kiss was fake. Lucas didn’t even think about how many people were watching them, or the fact that they were practically devouring each other in the middle of a crowded space, he was so wrapped up in all that Eliott was, putty in his hands.

“You want to get out of here?” Eliott whispered into his ear, leaving Lucas’ lips exposed and vulnerable, missing the taste of Eliott already. Lucas nodded eyes still trained on Eliott’s lips, which ticked up into an amused grin as he pulled Lucas by the hand until they were outside the club.

“Your place?” Eliott suggested, and Lucas nodded again. Some part of him didn’t feel drunk anymore, but another part felt drunker than he had been before. They could have taken a car, but Lucas’ place was close, so when Lucas started walking away Eliott followed with raised eyebrows, practically undressing Lucas with his eyes.

They were still attached at the hand, and it was easy for Lucas to pretend, in his altered state, that Eliott was his boyfriend and they were coming back home after a night out together. It was dangerous to think that way, but he really couldn’t help himself.

In the morning he might forget that he’d recreated a scene from Singin’ in the Rain on their walk home, dancing around the first lamp post he saw, watching Eliott’s eyes light up in delight. He might forget that Eliott sang Disney songs off key, loud enough that Lucas giggled and shushed him as they walked side by side. He might forget everything, but did that diminish any of those moments at the time and place they occurred?

When they arrived at Lucas’ flat, the first flat that was his and his alone, they kissed all the way up the stairs, barely making it inside before all their clothes came off. Eliott knew just what he was doing, and Lucas was stuck in his melody.

He quite literally swept Lucas off his feet, carrying him to the bedroom, making a few wrong stops along the way, which made both of them laugh into their kisses, teeth clanging in a way that might have been awkward if their mouths hadn’t felt like they were made for one another.

When Eliott dropped him on the bed, hovering over him, taking in every inch of Lucas’ body, Lucas’ mind went blank with utter sublimation, letting every feeling, every desire, overtake every logical, practical part of his brain and leaving him free to melt into everything that Eliott was.

Hours later, so late it was early, Eliott and Lucas were both still awake, but they were in no rush to fall asleep. Eliott was combing Lucas’ hair idly with one hand while Lucas told him all about parallel universes, listening intently to every word. He told Eliott how these parallel universes made him feel less alone without even stating it explicitly. Somehow Eliott understood him better than anyone ever had, and they’d only known each other a single night.

Lucas listened when Eliott told him about a film he wanted to make, a film called Polaris. It was an idea he’d never told anyone before, he said. Every word he spoke had Lucas waiting eagerly for the next one, falling for a story that had only barely been written. Maybe in a year, or even in ten, Lucas would see the name Polaris on the title card at the cinema and he’d remember all the details Eliott was telling him now. Maybe they’d walk a red carpet side by side, Eliott telling reporters how Lucas had been the first to hear the story.

They laughed harder than Lucas had laughed in quite a long time, exchanging stories of their time in school, from when they were children to their respective time at university. Eliott had been an art student, which was unsurprising, though Eliott said he hadn’t pegged Lucas for a biology student.

“How would you draw me, if you had a chance?” Lucas asked, propped up on one elbow. Eliott had just been explaining his habit of drawing people as animals he thought matched their spirit, telling Lucas that his was a raccoon.

Eliott considered him, squinting his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I have to think about it.”

Lucas didn’t want to get attached, he really didn’t, but Eliott made it so hard not to. He would think about it. Did that mean there was more time for their story than that day? Maybe there was a universe where they had met years before, and were still as in love in the present day as they had been initially. A universe where Eliott thought about it, and presented Lucas with drawings of their animals together, right where they were meant to be.

When it looked like Eliott might fall asleep if he blinked too long, Lucas pulled him in close, kissing him softly and brushing his eyelids with the tips of his fingers. “Goodnight, Eliott,” he whispered, kissing the tip of Eliott’s nose.

“Goodnight Lucas,” Eliott murmured back, so quietly Lucas barely heard it. They drifted away together, brains pulling them under a curtain of night and rendering them thoughtless. Neither of them knew it of the other, but each of their last thoughts before their subconscious overtook them was of the boy lying in bed beside them.

Morning was there already, but when true morning came, Lucas kept his eyes shut, trying to figure out what to expect when he opened them.

He remembered everything. Every touch, every breath, every kiss, every laugh, every word… but the bed was empty when Lucas opened his eyes, and he cursed himself for not knowing better. He wondered if he’d possibly imagined the whole thing, the night had been too perfect to be real. He should have known not to trust Eliott.

Eliott let him go, but he didn’t ask to be let go. He probably should have, and he definitely should have expected something like this from a one night stand he’d picked up from the club, especially one that looked like that, but the stupid hopeful part of him had expected to wake up with an arm curled around his side.

He didn’t know, when he met Eliott, that he was giving him control. It didn’t feel like it. It felt like they were both equally interested in each other, sometimes Eliott more than Lucas, actually. Lucas had been stuck in Eliott’s melody the night before, but now he wanted nothing of this cruel melody.

It rang in his head, highlighting all the ways he’d been stupid and naïve, a chorus telling him that it was what he deserved, that someone like him didn’t deserve someone like that, or maybe it was the other way around.

Pretty boys fucked with other boys’ hearts, paying no mind to the wreckage they left behind, and even though Lucas should have known better, it was easier for him to push the blame on the invisible body beside him than to acknowledge the fact that he’d played an integral role in the fissure of his heart as well.

He flopped his head back on his pillow, switching off everything he’d felt last night, everything he’d woken up still feeling. Eliott wouldn’t get more out of him, he decided, and, with that thought, shut off the cruel melody in his head once and for all.

#skam france #elu fic #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

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