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ruinedlover · 7 months

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warning; sexual themes ! sub!fem-readerxdom!snow

Coriolanus snow a couple years after everything, he’s now established in high society, no longer living in poverty in the capital. all enemies defeated, nothing to get in his way.

except you, that cheeky friend of tigris’. you were so unique and pretty, you didn’t sing like a song bird, actually you were quite shït at it. though you were an artist, a very, very famous one, a capital gem. the capital adored your innocent, sweet, look, you were soft in every-way but your personality, though even there you were all heart and genuine.

snow knew the real you, the you that actually had a personality, like a district would have. you were snappy and sarcastic, but never mean, soft spoken but when you got excited, god you were loud.

snow only saw this behind closed doors, you were obedient and soft and loved in the image of the capitol. though you had known the family for years, meeting when tigris was still a lost teen, doing things she shouldn’t have had too. you were always kind and giving to the family, as much as they would take. though thats all you were to snow, someone who took pity.

though you never left, you were always a friend, and maybe he was just seeing you for the first time. snow was a business man now he had no time for relationships, or hookups or anything of the sort, no matter the many women thrown at him. he had never lost focus on his work, until he started noticing you more.

“is y/n coming over today?” he asked tigris and she looked at him with a weird expression, a smile on her lips. “the president wants a mural done, one that shows the power of the capital over districts, she’s not responded. he’s asked me to talk to her.”

“you? you barely know her.” tigris reminded and snow looked away for some reason a small grin was creeping onto his face. he knew you a-lot more than tigris assumed.

your legs shake and you can no longer keep them wrapped around Coriolanus, breaking what he told you to do. “c’mon keep your legs up, i thought you wanted me to breed this sloppy cunt, do you want me to stop?” he was saying into your ear, sweat dripping off of him and onto your damp body. his breath touched the sensitive neck he had abused, that he would make you cover up with an out of fashion turtleneck.

“no, please, no..” you would gasp out, you were basically brain dead. his cock thrusting in and out of you harshly for hours, had left you a whiny, overstimulated mess. tears falling out of your eyes that would roll back everytime he purposely thrusted his whole cock in you.

he wasn’t gentle with you, not today. his hand grazed your face as he stared down at your pathetic expression. suddenly he squeezed your cheeks and came closer. “then take it good like i told you to, keep your legs up.” you nodded obediently and frantic as the soft authority in his voice made your thighs twitch. he smiled and kissed you, softer than the ruthless thrusting he was giving your other lips. “such a good girl.” he praised.

your legs once again wrapped around his waist as you whined and sobbed quietly. waiting for him to let another load of his seed out inside of you, to breed you till you were swelling with his baby, securing you as his.

only when you were filled up with his baby would he feel secure enough to publicly claim you. he would never again have a girl run from him, he had to give you a reason to never leave.

“well she’s not coming today, sorry to disappoint, when i see her i’ll make sure she’s gotten the request, how much it would mean to the capitol.” tigris fawned and stopped to look up admiring nothing but the thought, then she turned to Coriolanus, but he was gone.

if she wasn’t coming he would just go to her.

#x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #smut #the hunger games #young coriolanus snow

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 3 months

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teen!gojo satoru x reader - super short oneshot in which you go on your first real date

This made my heart feel so full, I absolutely loved writing this. I'd so super totally write a part two, maybe a second date or something? please leave a ❤️ if you want part 2, so that way I know if it's worth writing...although I might still write it anyways.

words: 1582

warnings: cursing, dirty jokes, mushy stuff, and ice cream biting.

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"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Satoru's playful voice startled you a little as he put his arm around your shoulder, leaning down so your faces were next to each other. Your eyes were now on him and not the inside of the jewelry store you were in front of, His circular sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose. You had been walking with him, but a pretty ring in the store caught your eye, so much so that you nearly forgot you were on your first date.

well, your first real date. You and Satoru had been dating for some time now, both of you training to become sorcerers at Jujitsu Tech, but it dawned on the two of you that you never hung out together with the explicit intent of being romantic. you both immediately planned a date in town, wanting to walk, maybe shop, definitely eat, and all around just have a good time.

"Nothin'," you responded nonchalantly, scanning the town square to find a good place to stop and eat. You tapped at your cheek, stomach rumbling as a couple of vendors caught your eye. "What do you think, takoyaki or..." You looked over, seeing your normally clingy boyfriend was missing. Your head whipped back and forth, searching for him, before getting a glimpse of his signature white hair in the window of the same jewelry store you were just looking at.

You watched as he handed the clerk some cash, grabbed a bag, and walked out with that same confident and carefree stride he always had. Once he exited, seeing you just at the entrance, he grinned down at you goofily. "Oh heyyyy Usagi-chan, fancy seein' you here," He said blithely, as if he wasn't by your side less than a minute ago.

"Heyyyy toru, whatcha got there," you asked with mock curiosity, already knowing what he had. He just shrugged, plopping the bag in your hand before sniffing at the air and mumbling, "mmm, takoyaki." well, it's settled, you're getting takoyaki. You opened up the bag, seeing 3 boxes stacked neatly on top of each other. How many boxes does one ring need...? Turns out just one, because he had bought you the ring, a necklace, and a bracelet.

"Uh- Satoru, you didn't have to-" You looked up, and he was gone again, the bastard. You looked around in a similar fashion as before, but this time he popped up behind you, arm around your shoulders once more. "didn't havta what?" He held two takoyaki sticks in front of your face, two more in his other hand. After a pause, you just grinned and chuckled a little. "You're a special lil guy, huh," you teased, taking the takoyaki as he walked the two of you to a big tree in the center of the shopping district. It had a raised structure around the base, perfect for sitting beneath the shade.

"I'm your special lil guy," he countered, sitting cross legged next to you. For the next hour the two of you sat, ate, and talked under that tree, playing games and goofing off like teens did.

"Ok, Ok, hold still," He snickered as you turned around. It was his turn to trace a drawing on your back, which you'd have to guess once he finished. His skinny index finger, gently dragging across your back, went in delicate waves and lines, one half circle, one straight line, another half circle leading to yet another line, and a final bump up and then down. It was so obvious, your predictable boyfriend.

"Satoru," you asked sweetly.

"yeah," he said in between giggles.

"Is that a penis?"

"..."

"You're really good at this."

You both burst out laughing, you leaning back against him and he doubling over you. The sight was heartwarming, Just two teen lovebirds enjoying each other's company. You looked up at the pinkening light filtering through the trees, then to Satoru's loving gaze. Something about it just took your breath away, the way someone so easily distracted can have eyes only for you.

"Let's go get some ice cream," you offered, sitting up and brushing yourself off. "mmmm yeah, let's go to the one over there," he said, pointing at an ice creamery known for their giant towers of soft-serve. You nodded quickly and hummed in agreement, the two of you standing from your spot beneath the tree and taking the short walk over.

The shop was relatively small, but it had a few people enjoying themselves inside. It was a little surreal, being around normies as two sorcerers in training. Like, to them, you were both just a normal couple, albeit highly attractive. You watched as two girls giggled and blushed at the both of you, and as much as you'd like to say you weren't a jealous person, it kind of made you twitch. You shook the feeling off, knowing you were being irrational, and your attention was quickly grabbed by your boyfriend yanking you away and saying, "look!"

He saw two pinball machines in the corner, the sight immediately making the both of you light up. they were pretty beat up, but seemed functional. "Loser has to give the other one a kiss," Gojo said, which made you giggle a little. "so then...you get the same thing if you win or lose?"

"...Alright alright, so I'm not amazingly right all the time, It's difficult being so perfect sometimes! how about..." you chimed in, a competitive gleam in your eye as you said, "Loser pays?" He gave a mischievous smile, holding his hand out for you to shake. You took it, and he pulled you in for a kiss while slipping a coin in his machine. You gasped, betrayed by your one true love. "Asshole," you yelled with an astonished grin, getting a coin in your own machine as quickly as possible.

The two of you played for a solid 30 minutes, keeping the ball out of the holes (Something he joked about incessantly while trying to distract you) and accidentally breaking several records. The game was getting heated, crowds surrounding you as you two played neck and neck. "Hey Usagi-chan," Gojo taunted, clearly about to talk trash. "What," you panted, because while not physically taxing, a game of pinball this competitive had you holding your breath.

"I love you."

"Huh?!" you whipped your head around to him, eyes wide. All 3 of your balls sunk, and Satoru was the winner. "Yes!" He cheered, arms flying up as everyone clapped. He looked over at your flabbergasted face, arms lowering as his viciously prideful smile turned into a gentle, more loving one. "I really do," he muttered to you, trying not to let anyone in on the moment.

That failed, however, when you panned to the crowd and raised your own arms up in victory. "He loves me!" The audience was silent for a moment, before giving an uproar of applause. You looked back at him, he was so adorable when he was laughing like this, and smiled brightly. "I love you," you muttered back to him, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you ended up getting free ice cream after attracting so much business, and when you walked out you realized how late it was. Stars were twinkling in the sky, although they were just about drowned out by the twinkling lights of Tokyo. He watched as you gazed up at them, making sure you weren't going to trip as you walked. He took the opportunity to lean in, get real close... and BITE the top of your ice cream off.

"Hey," you gasped, although you didn't sound all that offended. "What? Your flavors are different than mine." He licked his lips, BITING into his own strawberry and mint chip ice cream. odd combo, but not bad sounding.

To get back at him, you leaned in to steal a little of his ice cream, but he was too fast for you. You tried again, and again he pulled it away. You went back and forth like this about 5 times over before you finally got a taste. Unfortunately, the only reason you got any taste was because your face smashed into it.

"Bleh," You groaned, wiping off the ice cream on your nose and chin in one smooth motion before shaking the excess off your hand. He laughed, grinning stupidly as he joked, "Man, our first date and your face is already covered in cream." You rolled your eyes, wiping what little was left on your hand on his shirt. "You wish," you teased, unable to stop smiling and equally unable to stop blushing.

You pulled out your phone, checking the time and seeing it was past Jujitsu Tech curfew. "We gotta go back," You sighed, looking back up at him. "But I haven't proposed my undying love for you yet," he pouted sarcastically, finishing off the cone of his ice cream. You handed him yours, no way you were going to finish it anyways.

"You'll just have to wait until next time," you sighed, a hand on his arm. He was already almost finished with your ice cream, dude was serious when it came to sweets. "So...there's gonna be a next time," he asked gleefully, before standing up straight and pretending to find the news unimpressive. "I just knew it, my boyish charm is too much for you to handle," he sighed, taking your hand in his.

Maybe, just maybe, he was right this time.

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this thing went on for way longer than I was expecting, it was supposed to be around 600 words, but I loved it! Can you tell I've been hyperfixating on him? As always, leave a comment on what you liked, what you didn't like, or literally anything, I love reading them!

#fanfic #fan fiction #new to tumblr #new writeblr #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satorugojo

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finnickfan8 · 6 months

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Million Dollar Man

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

Genre: Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: Coryo is his own warning, manipulation, dark!coryo, toxic!coryo but reader is just as toxic, murder, cussing, smut (it’s lowkey bad)

Maybe being a socialite wasn’t for you. The cacophony of chatter amongst the Capitols aristocracy was earsplitting to you. You preferred to lead a domestic and tranquil life in the privacy of your own home. Your quaint room in your mother’s monstrous palace brought you sanity, but here you were slung around Coriolanus Snow’s petite arm.

To Snow you were his bimbo bride whom he discretely adored despite his calloused facade. In public he’d belittle your intelligence and your build as a way to show his superiority to everyone, even the adoptive daughter of the most revered game maker yet. When he’d degrade you, his eloquence never dropped.

“Isn’t she so sweet?” He started ruffling your hair, “Not a thought in her pretty little head, hanging on my every word.” You were used to it by then and just played up your bimbo role, nodding your head around thoughtlessly. You weren’t Y/N anymore, you were Coriolanus Snow’s show pony. You were to sip your drinks daintily feed into his effervescent delusions.

The topic of the conversation amongst Coryo’s alumni friends was the Hunger Games. You never favored the brutal massacre of teens as a ticket to escape their impoverished lifestyle, but what do you know? You’re just a trophy for Coriolanus’s company to ogle at. That’s when a raven haired girl wearing a red dress immersed you in her colleagues’ conversation.

“What do you think should be implemented in to the games, Y/N?” Coriolanus discretely glared at her, how dare she ask you to waste your precious thoughts on such menial questions? Nonetheless, Coryo brushed his thumb over your knuckles to signal that you were okay to respond.

“Well,” You drew out with a smile and a goofy grin, “I think that we should put stylists for the contestants and have like a fashion show kind of.” You clapped your hands in excitement, playing your role perfectly. The girl, Clemensia you believe, giggled and nodded along with you. You didn’t speak much as you were not permitted to.

The red dress Snow had carefully plucked from your closet adorned your body perfectly. Red was Coriolanus’s signature color, representing the iron fist in which he ruled Panem with. Everywhere you went there were people praising your husband for his various contributions to elevating Panem’s political climate. Your eyes stayed fixed on your partner, observing the way everyone melted in to putty when he spoke. He could use his words to make an entire room hang on his every syllable.

“I’m thinking of adding electric fences to the districts and adding ways for a tribute to have multiple slips of paper with their name on it in the bowl.” The crowd forming around him embraced the idea as a new revolutionary concept.

All of these parties built up the adoration the Capitol felt towards the two of you. Coryo was a bit turgid in his demeanor and was intimidating to talk to, while you were the Capitol’s sweetheart. Hell, all of Panem loved you. You did your best to help the Districts while acting within your bounds as the doting wife.

The night maintained the same cycle that Coryo’s social functions usually followed and the two of you left around eleven o’clock as it was your ‘bed time.’

Coryo had you on a calculated schedule that ensured for optimal health and wellbeing. After all, he couldn’t have his cherished songbird fall ill. On nights like these, you had an hour from when you got home to be in bed and thirty minutes from that to be asleep, ridiculous, but you obliged. Arriving home, you got ready for bed and were ready to head to sleep when you heard a brisk knock at your door. Steadily, you leaped out of bed and sauntered towards the oak door.

“Y/N.” The blonde haired male breathed. “I would like to discuss what occurred tonight.” His tone was stern and admittedly quite frightening, so you stepped aside. He stiffly seated himself on the bench that sat at the foot of your bed. You looked around for a sign of where you were to sit before he patted the bench, indicating that he would like you to sit next to him.

You followed his request, anxiously bouncing your leg. Coryo wasn’t annoyed necessarily when you did that, but he didn’t like when poise was dropped in his presence so he put a hand on your thigh to get you to stop. You look in to his cold blue eyes fearfully. Coriolanus knew you were afraid of him, and he loved it. He lifted you up and sat you horizontally on his lap, a bold form of scarce intimacy.

“You were adequately behaved tonight.” He plainly stated, wrapping his slender yet toned arms around you to keep you still. You were gobsmacked, usually this would be a lecture that ended in some form of punishment. Now his hand was rubbing your back in a soothing manner. “I understand I can be quite capricious, but if we are to be married our fondness should prosper outside of the public view.”

You smiled at his warmer side, “I never thought you’d ask, Coryo.” You knew better than to call him ‘Coriolanus’ when secluded from the public eye. Used to his serious facade; the superfluous vocabulary he spoke with, the brevity he wrote his somewhat elitist writings, everything needing to be meticulously planned and studied, you were surprised in a way at his sudden humanity.

Coryo played with the hem of your satin shorts, humming tenderly. “I want honesty tonight, questions and responses to be traded back and forth.” His usually cold, dead eyes had a spark of light to them. You loved how behind closed doors he’d acknowledge you in a less characterized way, he was just himself. “I’ll start, have you ever been with anyone before me?”

“No, I have not. You were the first person that I have ever dated.” You said it in a matter of fact tone as it was, in your opinion, a senseless question. The two of you started dating at fourteen and fifteen, you didn’t have a chance to like other people. Your response seemed to please him as you suddenly were impaled by his aroused member. Nevertheless, you brushed his curls out of his sculpted face, “When did you first know that I was your person?”

Coriolanus knew his answer right away, but he wasn’t going to say “your mother is a game maker that can get me a huge scholarship and bring wealth to my family.” So he substituted it with: “I guess it was when I saw you with the children on the street, spending your lunch allowance to feed them. That’s when I knew you were to be Panem’s First Lady.”

That wasn’t a total lie, just a fib to keep you eating out of the palm of his hand. The moment he saw you on the ground, dirtying your white dress just to feed some street rat striplings was the moment his infatuation started. He watched you go hungry every day to break bread with kinder that had no connection or way to benefit you. Your soul was too pure for this world.

He set you off of his lap, standing with his back facing you. Your question caused a deluge of non sequitur memories and thoughts to fog his mind. He remembered when he first arranged your marriage with him a few years prior when he convinced your mother to allow that. He remembered you sitting by his side throughout the entire Hunger Games and the fury he felt seeing your reaction to the violence.

He vividly remembers your tear-stained face, your watery eyes bearing in to his soul, all over some district scum dying. You were not to be exposed to such savagery, his angel was too pure. Now here you were, hand on his shoulder to try and bring him back. Coryo’s head turned ninety degrees to pear over his shoulder at your ethereal features. The way you looked at him in trepidation mixed with intrigue turned him on immensely.

“I’m so in love with you, Darling.” Snow’s nimble fingers work to effortlessly unbutton his dress shirt. He never referred to you endearingly if at all. Coriolanus Snow was always busy being the president of Panem, so busy that he neglected his doting spouse. “How could I keep my angel satisfied?” He turned his sleek body to face you.

“Wow.” Was all you could get out. His opened shirt revealed his fair yet evenly toned chest and torso. Your husband chuckled at your dumbfounded reaction. “You’re handsome, Coryo.” You finally managed to choke out.

“My little rose,” godly hands gripped your jaw to pull you in to a kiss. It was soft and slow but felt possessive and you loved it. “Answer me my love.” You knew Coriolanus was obsessed with you, but you were even more intoxicated by him.

“I-” You started as his hands roamed your eager body, but all that came in to your mind is how you would die for him, you would kill for him, you had killed for him. Lucy Gray was just holding him back from his goals and you. So, you slit that greedy bitch’s throat and left her for the covey to find. Anything he’d give you was enough for you. Your devotion towards him made you more impatient, kissing him hungrily. “Touch me.” You finally answered.

“Someone’s a needy little thing aren’t you?” Coryo teased, biting your plump lips softly. Your hypnotized body shudders at the thought of intimacy with the Coriolanus Snow. You nod obediently bringing your perfectly manicured hands down his taught core. “God, I want your pretty little nails to leave marks on my back.”

Coryo’s needy lips made their way down your collar bones, leaving little bruises. Hickey’s were sometimes called ‘love bites,’ but these were more raw and controlled than love. ‘Lust bites’ or ‘power bites’ would be more fitting for the feelings the dark marks he left on your delicate skin. Your body jolted and shook from the contact from his fair lips.

“Coryo, My love!” You moaned as his lips traveled down the peaks and valleys of your ample bust. The adoring names you gave him made him more aroused than he had ever been. The power he felt over you was delicious, addictive, and it consumed his every thought. He kissed his way down your stomach, parting your plush thighs. You tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, signaling you wanted it off.

“My little rose, if you want me to take my shirt off beg for it. Show me how devoted to me you are. Show me how much you need me.” Coriolanus ripped the satin shorts that clung to your waist down to your knees, leaving your exposed core to him. He took a singular lick down your wanton slit while looking at you expectantly.”

“Please Coryo, I want you to take your shirt off. I want to leave scratches down your back and carry your marks on my exposed neck. Please my love!” You moaned the last part as your husband was now lapping at your heat excitedly. He pulled away, eliciting a bratty whine from your lips.

“Then take my shirt off Darling.” Your husband demanded. As he wishes something to be is how it shall be, so you reached your delicate hands towards his buttons. Snow slapped your hand away, “No baby, with your mouth.” He tsked. You put your hands behind your back and got to work, using your teeth to unhook his buttons. Coryo tugged on your hair every so often to make sure that you remembered who was in control.

“Coryo,” You looked up at his as you got the last button undone. “May I?” You reached for his belt as he nodded assertively. You undid his belt gingerly and unzipped his pants. His boxers held a huge bulge that you lightly palmed. Subtle groans dared to spill from his slightly reddened lips

You took his darkened tip in to your hand. Guiding it through the fly of his briefs as if it could break at a single touch. He was sizeable down there. Around six to seven inches and respectable, but not abnormal girth. Although his member was the palest part of his body, it was still one of the best looking.

Your swollen lips invited his tip in to your welcoming mouth. You used a flat tongue to swirl the fat tip. “God Y/N it’s like you were made for this!” He moaned. Your jaw locked in an open position to allow easy passage to your throat. You gulped him down bobbing up and down as a hand came in to your hair, abating the monopoly you had in this situation. You let out small gags each time the tip hit the back of your throat. After a while you let out a bigger, louder, more intense choke signaling a need to pull back.

The head doesn’t cease as now you run your slender tongue along the veins that line his hardened cock. Coryo threw his head back, his curls flinging behind him. “Y/N, Y/N, such a good girl!” Starting at the tip and sucking in inch by inch like a straw, you took him wholly back in to your bruised hole. As you bobbed, you’d occasionally run your wet muscle along the underside of his shaft.

“Fu-uck!” Coryo’s breath grew ragged and his grip on your locks tightened. His hips bucked up towards your face as he finished. He shot ropes of thick cum down your throat. Forcing you to swallow his seed. He pulled his slightly softened cock out of your mouth. A trail of saliva connected your lips to his dick. You panted from exertion and slight asphyxiation.

“Coryo, honey, that was great.” You said, running your fingers over his rigid hip bones. He pulls you in to a heated kiss, lined with lust. His hands ran over your thighs, acting as a wall between your pillowy limbs. The kiss turned in to one with his tongue claiming your mouth as his own, an act you don’t dare defy.

“Hands and knees like the slut you are baby.” The perfunctory task felt like an impossibly intricate one, wanting to look just right for your lover. Your fastidious thoughts were interrupted by your husband rubbing his sensitive tip over your moistened hole. “Ready, Sweetheart?”

“Of course I am, Darling.” With that he pushes his tip in to your tight hole. He coerces a moan out of your sealed lips expertly. His hands find their spot on your doughy hips, squeezing tightly to steady himself as he finds his rhythm.

“You’re so tight Darling, maybe I should do this more often.” His thrusts intensify with every word. He grits his teeth. “Sometimes, I think about bending you over my desk in front of the entirety of Panem and fucking you senseless.” He growled. The thought of him showing everyone how much he cared about you was exhilarating, even if it was a “perverted” lust based expression. He flipped you over so he could see your face as he pounded relentlessly in to you.

“Coryo” You kissed him. “I’d gladly allow you to do that if it would please you, My Love.” Your dedication to him was bewildering to your childhood sweetheart. He knew you were crazy, but not that crazy. This was the kind of loyalty he expected, no, needed from a wife. His hand reached down to rub soft yet tight circles in to your eager clit.

“You’re. Such. A. Lovely. Wife. All. I. Could. Ask. For.” He kissed you in between those words. His thrusts synced also with his words. With the dual stimuli you both neared your edge. His free hand moved to squish your cheeks. Your jaw fell slack. This allowed him to spit in your mouth without spilling a drop. “Swallow.” He demanded.

You obey, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue as evidence. He let out a slew of curses and praises at your action, drawing an orgasm out of both of you. As you both came, Snow collapsed on to of you. He pulled you next to him in a hug.

After you both cleaned up, you had to continue your little question and answer. “How come you decided on intimacy tonight?” You pondered.

His icy clue eyes bore in to your soul. “On top of your astounding lack of ignorance tonight,” A compliment in Coriolanus’s eyes, “I have become aware of your true feelings towards me.” Your expression drops to a pusillanimous frown. What did he know?

“I know you killed Lucy Gray.”

#the hunger games #hunger games #mockingjay #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #corio snow #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryolanus snow #coryo smut #coryo x you

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yakool-foolio · 22 days

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY YAKOU!

To celebrate, I've decided to write up the summary of my personal interpretation on Yakou's childhood! Enjoy!

The Tale of The Silver-Tongued Street Rat

Yakou could only pick at the scraps of a decent family life after his parents abandoned him at an early age. Forced to survive in the harsh environment of a big city riddled with gangs and backdoor merchants, Yakou had no choice but to adapt, lest he be doomed to be easy pickings for those with far more experience living in a dog-eat-dog world. Yakou proved to be a quick learner, familiarizing himself with the local gangs and how they function. He also gained his most important skill: the ability of persuasion through quick wits and spoken words without having to raise a single fist.

However, Yakou refused to live his new life alone. He still held tightly onto his dreams of being a detective, serving justice to criminals and giving closure to those who need it most so they won't have to feel alone in their struggles anymore. And so, he rallied up fellow kids all around Kamasaki District to join in his newly formed Nocturnal Detective Agency! Of course the only proof of concept were some handmade badges, but it was enough to solidify Yakou's lifelong goal.

His adventures as a young and spunky detective didn't come without rivals. One kid on the block shared in Yakou's vivid imagination, but played a different game than him. Little Yomi was the leader of a different group of kids who wanted to be peacekeepers, much like their parents who were already employed to Amaterasu Corp. While they didn't directly oppose Yakou's rebellious band, Yomi considered the pre-teen detectives to be 'not as cool' as them. The two groups often play-fought out in the streets, but an unlikely alliance formed between Yomi and Yakou. Yomi decided that Yakou would be his sidekick, working as his companion in case he ever needed a helping hand (such as acting all high and mighty in front of some very angry gang members). Despite Yomi being admittedly prissy, Yakou couldn't back down from his purpose to protect, so he agreed to be Yomi's assistant. The other kids in both groups were altogether surprised by the sudden change of heart between the two, especially to a boy with blue tattoos under his eyes and a girl with ever-changing sunglasses.

But all good things soon reach their end. As Amaterasu continued to rise in power and control over Kanai Ward, the job as a detective became far less appealing to the masses. The peacekeepers could fit the role just as well, if not better, and be paid more reliably to boot. Yakou's detective agency fell out of fashion, and many of the teens who allied with him became nothing more than strangers once again. Yomi remained one of the very few who stayed by his side, but not without reinforcing Yakou's shame of feeling lowly compared to the up-and-coming teenager destined to become a high-ranking peacekeeper. And yet, it was a sensation he felt like he could hold on to, keeping him motivated to be a detective and prove Yomi wrong.

In the meantime, Yakou would have to get a part-time job to sustain himself. Maybe working as a bartender would be enough...

#master detective archives: rain code #rain code #rain code spoilers #yakou furio #yomi hellsmile

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simmillercc · 10 days

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Now available for everyone!

SIMS 4 - JAPANESE JOURNEYS - FUN LAYERED DRESS - BASE GAME

May 16

For this dress, I made some recolours of the original plain and patterned versions, and I also made some with new patterns that you may notice in some of the other Japanese Journeys projects, to keep with the aesthetic.

TAGS

FEMALES TEEN-ELDER

FEMININE

HUMAN, VAMPIRE, SPELLCASTER

EVERYDAY, FORMAL, HOT WEATHER, PARTY, SITUATION

COTTON AND SILK

ASIAN, SOUTH ASIAN

ARTS QUARTER, FASHION DISTRICT, FESTIVAL - ROMANCE, FORMAL - MODERN, CONTEMPORARY - DESIGNER, POLISHED

SHORT DRESS

ALLOWED FOR RANDOM - BASED ON THE ABOVE TAGS

NOTE: You are able to bypass most of the tags using the filters in CAS. If you find you are doing that a lot, you can always go into the package file and change the tags for your personal use.

Enjoy!

PATREON

CURSEFORGE

Now available for everyone!

#ts4 dress #sims 4 dress #s4 dress #ts4 clothes #sims 4 clothes #s4 clothes #simblr

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girlytips · 2 years

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An interesting article about the history of the leader of the Toyoko Kids, Howl. This details his yakuza background, how he used a false title of social worker to take control of the gang, the way he went about creating the current hierarchy within the gang, and the murder and child r*pe charges he currently faces. You can find more information on this man, the face of Toyoko Kids, by searching for 「歌舞伎町卍会」. This is not an innocent group. This is a gang currently led by a r*pist, with a hierarchy, that convinces kids, teens, and young adults to run away to the red-light district, is responsible for lynchings, stabbings, child prostitution, and drug dealing. This gang is why 地雷系 is associated with any aesthetics at all, because the runaway girls who work for this gang frequently donned a few pre-existing fashions to please Howl - to try to be his "type". This is the origin of "jirai kei" as the west knows it.

#toyoko kids #kabuchiko #j*rai #歌舞伎町卍会 #トー横キッズ #yakuza #ヤクザ #tw rape #japanese #article

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hornyhermitry · 4 days

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Montblanc On Mori Tower - A Ran Haitani Birthday Fic

Word Count: 1,704 Rating: Teen (some brief graphic violence) Summary: Ran ends a Bonten mission to meet his brother on Roppongi Mori Tower for birthday Montblanc

Elegant knuckles struck mercilessly at the face below them, as they had done a dozen times in the last few minutes. With an unappetising crunch, the cheekbones finally gave way under the blows and the maltreated middle-aged man spat blood onto the ground between his feet. He hung his head. His words were slurred, distorted by loose teeth and blood in his mouth. "We have nothing more than this."A large hand yanked his head back by the hair, forcing him to look at his interrogator. "Don't take Bonten for a fool. We know you've been getting supplies from the Chinese behind our backs and peddling them without paying your share to us." The tall man with lilac-coloured hair signalled an errand boy to bring him a rag.

When he received it, he squatted down in front of the man tied to a chair and wiped the blood from his hands while scrutinising him from top to bottom. The prisoner averted his eyes. "We didn't do anything behind your back." Violet eyes did not take their eyes off the bound man as the man continued to speak in a velvety voice and handed the dirty rag back to the henchman. Leaning forward, he spoke at eye level with the piece of filth who had tried to double-cross Bonten. "Do you know who I am?" Eyes smeared with blood dripping from his forehead, the man looked at his interrogator.

"Haitani Ran."

Pain shot through his face as the telescopic baton struck his broken cheeks. Blow after blow crashed down on his battered face and the man bit his tongue to keep the pain from showing. Blood and tears coated his eyelashes. "You lie to my face even though you know who I am?" Ran straightened to his full height and looked down at the miserable petty criminal in front of him. With a rough kick, he kicked over the chair the man was tied to and struck him in the shin with the baton. The man whimpered and writhed under more blows, but with a wave from their leader, 2 henchmen pushed the traitor back to the ground with their feet on his chest. Ran glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist and then grabbed the immaculate suit jacket hanging over another chair. He had somewhere else to be tonight. Without another glance back at the prisoner, he took long strides towards the exit. "Take care of him."

Haitani Ran, one of Bonten's executive members, stepped over the threshold of the musty betting parlour outside. The stuffy odour of decades-old cigarette smoke and male sweat fell away from the comparatively tall man as he stepped onto the streets of Roppongi, and a haze of fresh air, barbecues and expensive perfumes welcomed him into the nightlife. As he shook a cigarette out of the packet, he noticed the blood spatter on his hands and clicked his teeth. He didn't like it when his work affected his appearance. Especially not on a day like today. His long fingers clamped the cigarette between his lips and under graceful eyebrows, which were now drawn together, he rubbed the remaining blood from his hands with a handkerchief.

A few metres behind him, something banged against the door of the supposed betting shop he had just left. Ran lit his cigarette. Either you did what Bonten said, or you suffered the consequences.

The well-dressed man strolled leisurely through the evening streets of Roppongi. He had grown up here in the small side streets between large fashion shops and exotic foreign artisan shops. The neighbourhood had an elegance and international flair that had always impressed Ran. As a young boy, he hadn't realised what a posh neighbourhood his foster family had lived in, but after he and his brother had gotten into more and more fights with other teenagers and also made other districts unsafe at night, he had realised how special the beauty of Roppongi was. Modern, elegant, glamorous and yet with a dark heart that, behind the façade, ensured that the money never stopped flowing through the coffers and purses of the big players.

A bright female laugh drew his attention to a group of men outside a luxurious nightclub, helping impressively dressed hostesses out of their limousine. On the wall behind them was a huge advert advertising the new Loewe collection featuring a Japanese actor. Ran took a puff on his cigarette and smiled inconspicuously to himself. If he hadn't decided to follow Kurokawa Izana, he could have been the one to show off the extravagant silk suits and leather jackets on the catwalks of the world. He had never forgotten his earlier dreams of being a model. But just as the brands that lined the billboards and fashion shops along the streets of Roppongi had changed, Ran was no longer the dreamy boy he had once been. It was almost amusing to him that he had thought back then that the fashion world would be able to offer him what his current life had in store for him. For too long he had ignored what someone like Kurokawa had known about him since their first meeting - that he had violence in his blood. Sure, he also had a taste for the finer things in life - impeccable personal style, good food, beauty - but all of that only grew out of the empty darkness that had always lain dormant within him.

He wondered what Kurokawa would say if he could see Bonten and Kakucho now. Ran liked to imagine that such an empire was exactly what Kurokawa had wanted to build.

Without hesitation, long fingers stubbed out the cigarette on a nearby wall and Ran jogged up the stairs towards Roppongi Hills Tower. In front of him stretched the forecourt of the tower block, still crowded at this time of night with couples sitting on the benches alongside the large spider statue and putting their heads together in the shade of the treetops. But Ran paid them no further attention and headed straight for the lift that would take him up to the Sky Deck. Normally a popular excursion destination for tourists and residents, the Tower and Sky Deck were closed to the public today. A small advantage of its special position within the city. Completely alone as he entered the observatory, the sound of his expensive shoes echoed through the spacious room. It was dark. As a graceful shadow in the darkness, he moved through the room and finally stopped on the outside terrace. With a firm grip, his previously blood-stained hands closed around the steel railing and he took in the breathtaking view. The only source of light was the sea of lights below him. The wind carried the distant sounds of nightlife up to his viewing platform. The city pulsated beneath his grasp and the Tokyo Tower illuminated the distant night sky in a faint red. Casinos, bars and the drug trade pumped through Roppongi's veins and it was his doing. Like a spider, he had begun spinning his web around this part of the city more than 20 years ago and could now call it his own. Sano Manjiro stood at the head of Tokyo and as long as breath flowed through his body, Ran would serve him in memory of his former leader. But even if Mikey ruled Tokyo's underworld, Roppongi belonged to Ran.

Even lost in thought, the approaching footsteps and rustling of clothing did not escape the attention of the man who was only one of two halves that formed a whole. Leaning his elbows on the steel railing behind him, Ran turned to greet the visitor. Rindou stepped close and held out a cardboard package to Ran with both hands, emblazoned with the logo of a nearby patisserie. Purple eyes, a few shades lighter than his own, curved into a smile that made his brother's face look like a child's.

"Happy birthday, Nii-chan."

Rindou had always been the more emotional of the two Haitani brothers. The little brother who had been too wild for his own good, constantly getting scrapes and fractures from careless climbing, and who had been too impulsive as a teenager to ever be able to negotiate diplomatically with other gangs. Ran would always be loyal to Kurokawa Izana's legacy and do any dirty work for Bonten that needed to be done. But everything he did, he ultimately did for his brother. Unimpressed, he looked down his nose at his brother and then turned back to the view of the city. "Stop always pulling that face, Rin, you're not ten years old anymore." Rindou elbowed him half seriously in the side. "Stop complaining you lanky fuck, or I'll eat your Montblanc all by myself." Ran turned to his brother with a look of disbelief. "You wouldn't dare." Laughing, Rindou pushed Ran away from him and opened his mouth wide as he held the dessert over his face. Ran tried to grab his brother by the collar of his jacket, but he only slipped out of his jacket and stuck out his tongue. "This is how you wish your big brother a happy birthday, you little shit?" The ensuing scuffle between the two brothers made the sounds of the city fade into the background under their indignant shouts and catty insults. Since Ran had both longer arms and the better technique (definitely not because Rindou was only pretending to fight, he was far too stubborn for that), it wasn't long before they were both out of breath and leaning against the glass barrier.

They both pushed their sweaty hair out of their faces and looked at each other.

"Montblanc reconciliation?"

Ran grabbed the box Rindou held out to him.

"Give it to me already."

"Happy birthday, Ran. Even at 37, you're still obnoxious."

With the first bite of dessert already in his mouth, Ran mumbled a barely intelligible "Thank you" and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. In the end, that was what had kept them alive all these years. Roppongi would have fallen to them anyway, Bonten or no Bonten. But the Haitani brothers didn't need a team. As long as they had each other.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #toky revengers fanfic #ran haitani #haitani ran #haitani brothers #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #bonten #tokrev bonten #birthday fic #bonten ran

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terroremarium · 11 days

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☆ﾟ.*・ ◞ jenny boyd / cisfemale / white/ she/her——— is that lizzie saltzman on bourbon street ? the 22 year old siphoner who stays in the garden district ? i heard their parents are caroline forbes and alaric saltzman . they are notoriously known for being protective, intelligent but also impulsive, unstable . which is probably why they are considered the fervor around town. i wonder if they had their tarot cards reading, yet? either way, the cards on the table will reveal their fate soon enough

BASICS

full name; elizabeth jenna saltzman. age; 22. species; siphoner. nicknames; lizzie. gender; female. prounouns; she/her. sexuality; pansexual.

APPEARANCE

faceclaim: jenny boyd. height: 5’9. build: slim. eyes: blue. hair: blonde. piercings: standard earlobe,. tattoos: none. style: anything on trend at the time. prides herself on her fashion.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits: (+)protective, loyal , ambitious (-) unstable, distracted, selfish

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item: tba

B A C K G R O U N D: trigger warning: mentions death and mental health.

lizzie has always taken after her mother, caroline. from a young age she saw a strong powerful woman and she aspired to be like that when she grew up.

lizzie is quiet intelligent but has always chosen to never show it because for herself, she hates disappointment and disappointing others. it has always been easier for her to hide under the guise of not being the smartest in the room and to continue with the idea of being a social butterfly.

further to this, she has always struggled with her emotions and always had from an early age strong mood swings due to her bipolar disorder, which was diagnosed until her early teen hood. her moods were something she always struggled with upto the point of her death.

she, josie and hope were always together, causing some form of chaos be it at home or at the boarding school. hope will forever be her sister and no one can change her mind.

she may come across as a bitch at times but that is due to her hiding behind a facade of confidence because she doesn't have much of it. the idea of fake it till you make it is a mantra she goes by.

lizzie agrees with the use of dark magic as and when it is needed but it was something she never got into because she always had that worry in the back of her mind that it would turn her into something she's not.

the merge couldn't be stopped and so, lizzie allowed josie to win for two reasons; firstly, she had so much faith that both josie and hope would be able to bring her back somehow. lizzie knew that dark magic would need to be used and she knew she wouldn't be able to trust herself with going down that dark root.

secondly; it maybe deemed as selfish but she knew she wouldn't of coped with josie's death on her hands. with how her bipolar episodes can come on quickly, especially with trauma, she knew she wouldn't of coped and didn't want to put their mother, nor siblings through her having that break down when they have always been by her side. she knew that, while it would be tough on josie, she knew that her and hope would get through it together.

and she's back from the dead, little confused as it wasn't hope and josie that brought her back. living her life as best as she can with the idea in her mind that she may just end up being dead again with a click of someone's fingers.

#˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . It burned through her like a chemical fire brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable. ⌗ l. saltzman intro #˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . It burned through her like a chemical fire brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable. ⌗ l. saltzman interactio #˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . It burned through her like a chemical fire brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable. ⌗ l. saltzman fc #˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . It burned through her like a chemical fire brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable. ⌗ l. saltzman musing #inaduintro #˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ . It burned through her like a chemical fire brief and devastating and utterly unstoppable. ⌗ l. saltzman answers

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goblin-g0rl · 11 months

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Barbie Legacy Challenge

This challenge has not been fully play-tested yet. So please let me know if you run into any issues!

General Rules

For each generation complete the designated career, aspiration, and skills

Each generation heir must have the 2 traits listed and 1 trait of your choice

Barbie is an unmarried and childless icon, so only generations that specify say to get married should do so

Each gen is inspired by a different Barbie, so for extra fun style your sim like the Barbie

No cheats that increase skills or needs allowed (money cheats are ok)

Anything in *asterisks* is optional

Play on whichever lifespan you prefer (short not recommended)

If you play this challenge @ me (goblin_g0rl on Twitch, Twitter, & Instagram) or use the tag #barbielegacy

Required Packs

Expansions: Get to Work, Parenthood, City Living, Cats & Dogs, Get Famous, Island Living, Discover University, Snowy Escape, Cottage Living, and High School Years *Growing Together & Horse Ranch*

Game Packs: Spa Day, Parenthood

Stuff Packs: Nifty Knitting

Getting Started

Start by creating your Barbie as a Young Adult and her 3 little sisters; Skipper as a Teen, Stacie as a Child, and Chelsea as a Toddler. (you can give them any names you like).

Gen 1 - Doctor Barbie

Caring for others is your passion. In the absence of your parents, you have taken on the task of raising your sisters. You love your job as a doctor, and giving back to your community thru donating to charity and volunteering with your family. Your greatest goal in life is to be the best parent to your sisters you can be, making sure they feel loved and supported.

Aspiration: Super Parent Traits: Good & Family Oriented Career: Doctor Skills: Baking & Handiness

Donate to charity or volunteer weekly

Raise all sisters to have 2 positive Character Values

*Have a Close or Supportive family dynamic with all sisters*

Gen 2 - Back to School Barbie

You've loved books and knowledge your entire life. Growing up you loved school; you'd do every project and always do your extra credit. As a teen, you took your love for books to the next level by starting to write. Your love of knowledge and the support of your sister drives you to attend university. While living in the University dorms you meet the love of your life. You continue your love of knowledge and share it with others by pursuing a career in teaching and writing in your free time.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author Traits: Perfectionist & Bookworm Career: Teacher Skills: Research and Debate & Writing

Graduate from high school as valedictorian

Graduate from University

Marry university roommate

Gen 3 - Rockstar Barbie

Growing up your parents always encouraged your creativity. It's always felt like music is a part of you. You're always singing, playing music, or dancing. Music is your greatest love, you've dabbled in romantic relationships with none sticking, but as an adult you find yourself wanting a family of your own. Your best friend is the longest relationship you've had, and after confiding in them about your desire for a child they agree to have a science baby with you.

Aspiration: Musical Genius Traits: Creative & Dance Machine Career: Entertainer Skills: Singing & DJ Mixing

Reach at least level 4 in every instrument

Have at least 3 good friends

Have a science baby with your best friend

Gen 4 - Fashion Magic Barbie

You grew up in a home full of music and creativity. Your parent always told you to follow your dreams. Fashion is your passion. As a teen, you start your online presence as a fashion simfluencer. You love creating your own fashion looks, knitting your own clothes, and photographing them. As an adult, you follow your dreams to the Fashion District in San Myshuno.

Aspiration: City Native Traits: Outgoing & High Maintenance Career: Style Influencer Skills: Knitting & Photography

As a teen complete the Admired Icon Aspiration and be a Simfluencer

Live in Fashion District entire adult life

Knit and wear 2 clothing items

Gen 5 - Animal Lovin Barbie

You've always had a deep love for animals and the outdoors. As a child, you convince your parent to adopt a cat. After growing up in the big city your desire for a simpler life drives you to move to Henford on Bagley (or Chestnut Ridge). You build your dream life full of animals, gardening, and sunshine.

Aspiration: Country Caretaker Traits: Animal Enthusiast & Loves Outdoors Career: None (your farm/ranch is your life) Skills: Gardening & Pet Training *Nectar Making*

Move to Henford on Bagley or Chestnut Ridge

Live on a lot with the Simple Living Lot Challenge

Have at least 1 of each kind of animal (excluding frogs, fish, hamsters, rats, and void critters)

Marry either your neighbor or ranch hand

Gen 6 - Malibu Barbie

You thrived growing up surrounded by animals and nature, but you always felt drawn to water. As a teen, you spend your weekends hanging out at the pool with your friends. You follow the call of the ocean to Sulani, where you immerse yourself in the culture, learning all of the secrets of the island.

Aspiration: Beach Life Traits: Child of the Ocean & Self-assured Career: Diver Skills: Charisma & Fishing

Build your Barbie Beach House

Complete shell collection

Become a mermaid

Adopt an infant or toddler

Gen 7 - You Can Be Anything Barbie

You were adopted into a loving home. Your parent always told you you could be and do anything. You love trying new things and brightening people's days. On your journey to find yourself, you fall in love with cooking and the big city. You pursue a career in politics in hopes to make more people's lives better.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Traits: Ambitious & Cheerful Career: Politician Skills: Comedy & Cooking

Work in the food industry (fast food, barista, or culinary) and entertainment industry (entertainer or acting) before starting Politician career

Living Spice District

Learn at least 10 of the food stall recipe

Gen 8 - Day to Night Barbie

You live by the motto "Work hard, play hard". In school, you effortlessly get A's. You have many friends and attend every event you're invited to. You work hard and excel in your career, and play hard at bars and nightclubs on the weekends. You thrive in chaos and are always up for a good time.

Aspiration: Party Animal Traits: Genuis & Party Animal Career: Business Skills: Dancing & Programming

As a teen, complete the Live Fast aspiration

Go to Bar or Nightclub at least twice a week

Go to every event you're invited to

*If playing with MC Command Center use risky WooHoo to have an accidental pregnancy after a crazy night out*

Gen 9 - Made to Move Barbie

You were unexpected but never unwanted. Your parent did their best raising you; always encouraging you and supporting your choices. You can't sit still. You're always on the move. As a teen, you start taking daily jogs and practicing yoga. As a young adult, you are always looking for your next adventure and trying new things. You adopt a dog that becomes your best friend and adventure buddy.

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast Traits: Adventurous & Active Career: Athlete Skills: Wellness & Fitness

Max Movement skill as a toddler

Max Motor skill as a child

Join either the cheerleading or football team

Do yoga daily

Have a dog and take it for a jog daily

Gen 10 - Superstar Barbie

You grew up going on adventures, but you were always more of a homebody, preferring movies and video games. You have a big personality. You're always goofing around and have a flare for the dramatic. As a child, you join the drama club as a fun creative outlet with your friends. You fall in love with acting, and it quickly becomes your dream to be world famous.

Aspiration: World Famous Traits: Goofball & Geek Career: Actor Skills: Video Gaming & Mischief

Join Drama Club

Enter video game tournaments weekly

#barbielegacy #sims challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 #sims community #barbie #sims 4

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safali1993 · 2 years

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offender42085 · 2 years

Photo

Post 0456

Justin Adrian, Kansas inmate, born 1984, incarceration intake in 2020, at age 35, now released

Aggravated Battery, Sexual Battery

A former Olathe East teacher and Shawnee city councilman, and fashion model, was sentenced to jail for sexually assaulting a student.

Justin Adrian was sentenced to 32 months in prison, but because of a mediation agreement with the state, he spent 60 days in jail and then moved to probation.

Adrian was convicted in October 2019 of aggravated battery and sexual battery for sexually assaulting a student at school in 2018.

Court documents say Adrian began talking to the student on Grindr, a dating app similar to Tinder, used by gay and bisexual men. Adrian’s messages quickly became sexually inappropriate.

The next day at school, while the two were alone, Adrian locked his door and began inappropriately touching the teen, also performing oral sex on him.

Carrie Brous, an attorney for the victim’s family, has filed a civil lawsuit against the Olathe School District, claiming district administrators and the school board had prior complaints about Adrian’s behavior and did nothing to protect students.

“When they send their kids to school they should be able to trust the teachers are looking out for their best interest and are going to keep them safe and protected,” she said.

In its answer to the civil suit, the district claims the student, who is 18, consented to the sexual encounter and contributed to it.

Brous said no matter the age of a student, in Kansas it’s illegal for a teacher to have sexual relations with a student.

While Adrian has received his punishment, it’s important to the victim and his family that the school district is also held accountable so something like this does not happen again, according to Brous.

“Its been really hard and traumatizing,” she said. “He’s at the beginning of his very young life so he was at school where he was supposed to feel safe and protected allowed to be vulnerable and that was taken.”

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jqbasesave · 2 years

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youtube

San Myshuno Rebuild - No CC, City Living Only

Available on the gallery ID: quiescence90

Or download the tray files from SFS

Part One | Spice Market

1. 17 Culpepper House - A starter apartment furnished for a single sim

2. 18 Culpepper House - A family apartment furnished for parent sims with two teens

3. 19 Culpepper House - A family apartment furnished for parent sims with two child sims

4. 20 Culpepper House - A comfortable family apartment furnished for parent sims with a teen, a child, and a toddler

5. 2A Jasmine Suites - A starter apartment furnished for parent sims with a toddler

6. 2B Jasmine Suites - A cozy family apartment furnished for parent sims with three children, including a toddler

7. The Old Salt House - A residential warehouse conversion furnished for parent sims with four children, including two teens

8. Waterside Warble - A karaoke bar

Part Two | Arts Quarter

1. 910 Medina Studios - A loft apartment furnished as a starter. However I did keep Salim Benali in mind, who is a writer and mentions that he sells his paintings at the flea market sometimes, should you wish to keep him here. As this loft have different floor heights, the apartment is shared as two separate rooms.

2. 920 Medina Studios - A nicer apartment furnished comfortably for parent sims with a teen

3. 930 Medina Studios - A large family apartment furnished for entertainer parent sims with a teen, a child, and a toddler. With minor adjustments you could place washer and dryer in the bathroom next to the kitchen if you want

4. 121 Hakim House - A cozy family apartment for the Jang family, which consists of comedian dad, painter mum, and one child. The parents share a study where they work on their crafts

5. 122 Hakim House - A comfortable family apartment for parent sims with 2 teens. I think the parent is an art critic. One of the teens is an avid gamer and the other is an aspiring musician.

6. Fountainview Penthouse - A single story penthouse furnished for parent sims with a teen and a child. I decided to build it simply and ended up with the same shape as the original - it just fits.

7. Casbah Arts Center (Casbah Gallery) - Arts Center venue

Part Three | Fashion District

1. 1310 21 Chic Street - A single-bedroom apartment for a style influencer

2. 1312 21 Chic Street - A starter apartment for parent sims with a toddler

3. 1313 21 Chic Street - A single starter apartment

4. 701 Zenview - A loft style apartment for a tech guru sim

5. 702 Zenview - Furnished for the Karaoke Legends household

6. Planet Llama Karaoke - Fancier karaoke bar for bigger groups

7. Torendi Tower Penthouse - A two-storeyed penthouse for parent sims with a teen and an infant, plus a guest suite and a butler's

Part Four | Uptown + Myshuno Meadows

1. 1010 Alto Apartments - A fancy two-bedroom for a small family of parent sims with an infant

2. 1020 Alto Apartments - A luxury apartment for a single sim

3. VIII Landgraab - A luxury loft apartment furnished for two roommates

4. IX Landgraab - A fancy loft apartment for the Feng household

5. 888 Spire Apartments - Another fancy loft apartment furnished for parent sims with a teen

6. Stargazer Lounge - A lounge venue which also fulfills the lot requirements for the Pool and Nightclub venues

7. Skye Fitness - A gym venue with an indoor basketball court and a small pool

8. Myshuno Meadows - A center park special venue furnished as a wedding venue with a few park items and the observatory, same as the original

#TS4 Download #TS4 World #TS4 City Living #TS4 Vanilla #TS4 San Myshuno #TS4 Lot #TS4 Residential #TS4 Apartment #TS4 Penthouse #TS4 Community Lot #TS4 Karaoke Bar #TS4 Arts Center #TS4 Lounge #TS4 Park #jqbasesave #Youtube

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vintagelasvegas · 2 years

Photo

The pool at Minsky’s, Las Vegas, August 1958. Photos by Allan Grant

Update: The women are unknown. The location was identified as the residence of Harold Minsky, 5712 Kelly Lane, which is now airport property. Our original article considers the history of another neighborhood known as “Naked City.”

The legend of “Naked City” – the neighborhood west of the Stratosphere – claims the area got its nickname in the 60s because of its sunbathing showgirls at various apartments.

The phrase “Naked City” was coined by photojournalist Weegee for a book published in the late 40s. It was turned into a movie, then a TV series – it became shorthand for a lawless inner city. The earliest this term was used in print for Las Vegas was consistent with this definition, a front-page Review-Journal story in 1982: “Crime is soaring in the once-fashionable area that is called ‘Naked City’ by Metro police …”

Originally called Meadows Addition, platted in the late 20s, and built up with apartments in the 50s, the neighborhood became geographically isolated as Las Vegas expanded in the 60s-70s. The rise in crime and “Naked City” moniker kept it on the front pages of Las Vegas newspaper through the 80s. Metro formed a gang detail to work the area of Tam Drive where 29 murders were linked to gang activity in ’82-83.

Some who lived in this area in the 60s & 70s never heard it called Naked City before. Sahara hotel dancer Gail McQuary: “It wasn’t called that. We had a beautiful apartment on Boston Ave and I used to walk to work.”

Others insist the legend is real. Former city councilman Steve Miller, who did not live there, says, “We called it Naked City when we were in our teens [in the 60s] because we’d see suntanning showgirls. I didn’t come up with the name, it’s just what people said.”

There was an effort to rebrand the neighborhood as Meadows Village in the late 80s, and Miller was quoted telling the suntanning story to a reporter in 1989, insisting the “Naked City” nickname was not negative. The neighborhood now falls within the boundaries of a larger area which has been called the Gateway District.

K. Lauer. "Naked City an LV Battleground,” Review Journal 6/20/82; L. Werner, R. Cornett. “For blacks, Latinos: A painful legacy,” RJ 9/4/83; “LV officials close park in Naked City,” RJ 10/17/87; D. Russel. “Naked city cleans up its act,” RJ 11/1/87; S. Whaley. “Naked City sheds its negative image,” RJ 3/8/89; M. Green. “Naked City program outlined,” RJ 1/13/93; W. Clayson. Cubans in Las Vegas. Nevada Historical Society Quarterly, Vol. 38, No. 1, Spring 1995; K. Zekan. "Tower rises from mean streets,” Las Vegas Sun, 4/26/96; Gail S. McQuary Interview (1997) by Joanne L. Goodwin, UNLV Oral History; F. Robles. ‘Marielitos’ Face Long-Delayed Reckoning: Expulsion to Cuba. The New York Times, 1/14/2017.

#1958 #Allan Grant #Showgirls

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osharenippon · 8 months

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'70s Harajuku (Part 2)

The Harajuku district in Shibuya has gained international acclaim as a hub of Tokyo's youth culture and fashion scene. Its streets are lined with cafes, boutiques, and well-known fast fashion stores, drawing a constant stream of tourists, fashionistas, and teenagers. However, before the arrival of billionaire retailers, foreigners, and media attention, this area's early inhabitants were the ones who truly shaped its unique character.

'70s Harajuku (Part 1)

There's been a few books written about Harajuku and its culture in the '70s. Famed photographer Shinpei Asai wrote "Central Apartments Monogatari" (Central Apartments Tale), published in 2002. Futoshi Kimizuka interviewed some creative professionals who had offices in the building for 2004's "Central Apartments no asobi" (Walking through Central Apartments). Yasuko Takahashi, Japan's first stylist, wrote extensively about her experience working and playing in the neighborhood during that era in "Omotesando no Yakko-san" (Yakko-san from Omotesando, 2012) and "Toki no kakeru Yakko-san" (Yakko-san Who Leapt Through Time, 2015). In 2019, Non Nakamura, who started out as Yakko-san's assistant, compiled photographs and essays from influential figures of the time in "70s Harajuku Genfuukei."

This same Non Nakamura contributed what I consider to be some of the most insightful and readily available essays on this period through her "20th Century Girl" serialization in Mononcle. These essays are accessible for free on their website (in Japanese, though Google Translate provides a decent translation). Nakamura's series chronicles the culture of the 1970s in Harajuku and the broader oshare influences of that decade.

The first essay discusses how she owes her fateful meeting with Yakko-san to rock 'n' roll. Nakamura was a teen during the folk music era when rockstars had long hair, worn-out T-shirts, and bell-bottom denim. She wasn't particularly attracted to this type of fashion, so when she first saw glamorous-looking David Bowie in a magazine, she instantly fell in love with him. Her other passion was the band Carols. She passed by a poster of them, with their regent hairstyles, motorcycles, and leather jackets, on her way to her part-time job in Shinjuku and was remarkably attracted to them. After work, she ran to the record store and bought their then-just-released first single, "Louisiana." When she got home and dropped the needle on the record, the sound of rock 'n' roll took over her body, and she was utterly fascinated with the band. Soon after, she got a boyfriend who followed the regent hairstyle/leather jacket/motorcycle trend of the time.

Nakamura hated studying and wasn't interested in school clubs and activities. She'd fulfill her curiosity about the world by reading the dressmaking magazine Fukusou and admiring the avant-garde professionals that worked in it, such as the photographers (Saku Sawatari, Daitomo Yoshida, Osamu Nagahama), the illustrators (Ayumu Ohashi, Teruhiko Yumura, Yosuke Kawamura, Osamu Harada, Tamie Okumura), the models (Risa Akigawa, Brenda, Ichizo Koizumi), and the writers (Takeshi Matsuyama and Ken Sunayama).

One day, Yasuko Takahashi, aka Yakko-san, started a serialization in Fukusou. In her inaugural essay, she wrote that if she were a teen, she'd probably be chasing her rock 'n' roll dreams and dating a rocker dude her mom disapproved of. These words resonated deeply with Nakamura, who found school tiresome, yearned for an artsy and glamorous world, adored Carol and Bowie, and was dating a delinquent high school dropout who didn't earn her mother's favor. She felt seen and understood.

In her column, Yakko-san published plenty of photos of her daily life. To Nakamura's surprise, she was friends with the guys from Carol and also worked as a stylist for David Bowie. In the 17-year-old girl's eyes, she was the most incredible woman alive.

As she recounts in her second essay, her deep relationship with the Fukuso magazine team started a few months before Yakko-san's inaugural column in the October '73 issue. One day during the spring of her senior year, she felt compelled to write a letter to the magazine professing her love for it. She dreamed of being an illustrator, so she included a bunch of her doodles. To her surprise, the editorial team called her home a few months later and invited her to their office.

After school, she changed from her uniform to her favorite clothes (which included a shirt she bought from a London import shop in the basement of Central Apartments and a gingham skirt she made inspired by MiLK) and eagerly made her way to the meeting. The editors inquired about her clothing and life, and their comment, "I sensed something in you that was not Yojohan-ish," stuck with her.

To understand the context of this comment, we must go back in time to the folk music fever of the '70s, when yojohan (4 tatamis and a mat) folk was at its peak. Yojohan referred to small rooms where impoverished university students lived, often idealized in songs about young love and melancholy that dominated the charts. Nakamura was happy with the comment because, indeed, she didn't like the poor and humid vibe of said songs. She was drawn instead to dreamy pop and rock.

The teen girl left the magazine's office that day with an invite to publish a double-spread page in the June issue, full of her illustrations and thoughts. It was quite an achievement for her.

Encouraged by this experience, she didn't hesitate to write Yakklp-san a letter. And to her astonishment, Yakko-san replied! Before she knew it, they had become penpals and engaged in lengthy phone conversations. Thus began a profound friendship between a 17-year-old high school student and a 34-year-old stylist at the pinnacle of her career.

Funnily enough, Yakko-san feared meeting Nakamura and disappointing her. To the 17-year-old, it was amusing that a grown woman who organized Japan's top designer Kansai Yamamoto's show in London Fashion Week and had the initiative to collaborate with world-famous figures such as T-Rex and David Bowie would be intimidated by her.

But, as she recounts in her third essay, they finally met. First, a quick 10-minute meeting in a Shibuya coffee shop. And then a proper encounter at the renowned Leon, where she also met other cool people she used to see in the magazines. Soon after, she became a frequent visitor to Yakko-san's small apartment in Harajuku.

Initially, she was taken aback by the apartment's minimalist and compact layout, as well as Yakko's sparse possessions. Yet, within the broader context, it made sense that a trend-savvy individual in 1973 lived this way. It was the year of the Oil Shock, the first post-war recession and frugality was in vogue. Books like "Jonathan Livingston Seagull," an anti-materialism allegory, and Alicia Bay Laurel's "Back to the Earth" became bestsellers, reflecting the shift towards a more modest lifestyle.

Amid the growing popularity of the back-to-the-land movement in the United States, minimalism and healthy living gained global momentum. It was Yakko-san who first introduced Nakamura to these ideas.

Through Yakko, Nakamura also learned about "natural food," a relatively unfamiliar concept in Japan at the time. While a foreign concept to most, natural food was all the rage in the vibrant neighborhood of Harajuku, and locals bought it from the market in the basement of the luxury Co-Op Olympia condo. Additionally, a delivery service offered pesticide-free vegetables, spearheaded by a former Leon patron who had forsaken a successful creative career to explore his passion for sustainable farming. Through these encounters, young Nakamura began to comprehend that life presented various paths, and fashion encompassed not only clothing but also a holistic lifestyle, including food and living habits.

The fourth installment focuses on Sayoko Yamaguchi, one of Japan's top models of the '70s, who had worldwide success and shared a close relationship with Yakko-san. Nakamura observed that during that era, the most prominent models were of mixed heritage (haafus), characterized by big eyes, long eyelashes, and wavy hair. Notably, Lisa Akigawa was one of the most renowned among them. In contrast, Yamaguchi stood apart with her almond-shaped eyes and black bob haircut. Her unique style served as an inspiration for many Japanese girls, fostering their self-confidence. Her signature eyeliner makeup and haircut were emulated by numerous admirers. While Yamaguchi enjoyed global fame at international fashion weeks, she became a familiar face to the Japanese public through her Shiseido commercials. She was among the numerous icons in fashion and culture closely connected to Yakko-san.

During the 1970s, Sayoko Yamaguchi was one of the faces of Shiseido cosmetics.

Another notable figure in this circle was the director Juzo Itami, whose tight relationship with Yakko-san was evident in his introduction to her first book, "Aisatsu no Nai no Nagadenwa" (Long Phone Conversation with no Greeting), published in 1976. This title offered one of the first comprehensive examinations of the "stylist" profession, which was relatively obscure in Japan then.

In the fifth essay, Nakamura writes how she found out about the profession through an article at AnAn, which briefly described a stylist as "people who lease clothes for fashion shoots, run around Harajuku with large bags, line the soles of model's shoes with duct tape, coordinate clothes, and attend shoots."

As she discovered through her work with Yakko-san, stylists do way more than that. And that was also what Itami tried to convey in the introduction to Yakko's book:

"I want to introduce my friend, Yasuko Takahashi. She is a first-class stylist. When making fashion editorials or commercials, a stylist can materialize a suitable house, the right interior design, or a place just like the one you're looking for out of thin air. At the same time, they also find props that are suitable for the location and source costumes. Depending on the situation, they will interact with the models and even advise on hair and make-up, so they must be genuinely knowledgeable. Collaborating with Yakko is, without exaggeration, a heavenly experience for me. She is a consummate professional. Once upon a time, when she couldn't find a suitable location, she wandered through town all night, shedding tears of frustration until she eventually discovered one. I mean, she's persistent. Her tenacity isn't limited to her professional life; in her case, she's unwavering in allowing her creativity to roam freely."

Yakko and Itami first met after being introduced by famed photographer Shinpei Asai, who had his office at Harajuku Central Apartments. The three of them worked together on a serialization Itami had at Shūkan Bunshun magazine in the sixties, which had Asai in charge of the photography and Takahashi doing the styling.

Takahashi was impressed by Itami's sensitivity to trends on a global scale. When she went to New York, he told her to buy a Yellow Pages-sized book, "Whole Earth Catalog," which inspired his weekly column. As covered here, "Whole Earth Catalog" was highly influential among Japanese media and creative types in the late 60s and early 70s, molding much of Japan's fashion culture.

But back to Non Nakamura's column, stylist was a novel occupation. She notes that stylists became highly sought after in the 80s, with the effects of the D.C. brand boom and the bubble economy. A diverse range of stylist roles emerged, including magazine stylists, advertising stylists, men's fashion stylists, and even specialists in props and food styling, each requiring unique skills and expertise. But back then, when Yakko-san was one of the few professionals doing this job, a stylist was in charge of everything, from the models and shooting locations to the costumes, dishes, houseplants, furniture, or anything else the shoot may need.

One day, Yakko asked Non to work as her assistant on a Noriyaki Yokosuka shoot. She promptly accepted, even though she had no idea who the photographer was. However, when she mentioned him to the boys in her design school, they were impressed and told her that he was the one who photographed Sayoko Yamaguchi's Shiseido posters, as well as doing the Parco ads. Parco, the Shibuya fashion building, had the buzziest campaigns in the country under Eiko Ishioka's art direction.

When she got to the shoot, the photographer asked her to get some poppy flowers. Faced with challenges in finding these specific flowers, Non embarked on a frantic quest, purchasing as many as she could to meet the photographer's expectations. However, to her astonishment, the photographer didn't even glance at the flowers. That's when she realized that being a stylist was a tough job.

David Bowie was the theme of two installments of the column. Yakko-san introduced him to legendary Japanese designer Kansai Yamamoto, who was behind some of his most legendary costumes, and they established a close working relationship in the 1970s. During her tenure as Yakko's assistant, Non had the opportunity to meet Bowie in a 1977 photoshoot in Harajuku. One of the photographs from that session, captured by Masayoshi Sukita, ultimately was used as the cover of Bowie's 12th studio album, "Heroes."

The cover of Bowie's 12th studio album, "Heroes," was shot in Harajuku. Yakko-san was the stylist.

She also dedicated a chapter to another one of her idols, Eikichi Yazawa, whom she met just a few weeks after Carol's farewell concert as he prepared to make his solo debut. She recounts that his charm so enchanted her that she realized she didn't actually love her boyfriend at the time, breaking up with him shortly after.

Nakamura watched Carol's final concert twice. Along with the rest of the country, she followed the telecast, aired a few days later. As she recounts, she and Yakko-san were working in Harajuku on a Saturday afternoon when the stylist took a look at her watch, said, "oh, it's starting soon," and rushed to a design office at Central Apartment that had a TV (minimalist Yakko-san didn't have one at her place).

But she also was one of the lucky few who actually were at the proper concert in Hibya Open Air, which she attended all dressed up in clothes from the trendy Creamy Soda boutique in Harajuku (the owner was notoriously close to Carol's members). Infected by the feral atmosphere, she ended up in the front row and even tried to invade the stage. She succeeded in getting her right foot in before being kicked out by the security guard. But here's a twist: the security was also a regular at Harajuku's Leon coffee shop.

In the 1970s, the hippiest motorcycling gang in Tokyo was The Cools. They were known for their cool styles, hung out with models and celebrities, and were always at Leon. Of course, like all of Japan's young bad boys, they were also big Carol fans. And they actually became close to the members. For their final show, the band wanted to mimic the Rolling Stones -- which had the Hell's Angels as security -- and they invited The Cools to escort them and guard the stage.

After Carols disbanded, the Cools were actually hired by a major record label and became a proper rock band.

In the 1970s, Harajuku remained a hidden gem, undiscovered by the masses. Yet, this small district nestled within bustling Shibuya played an integral role in the histories of the most extraordinary individuals. As the rest of the country caught on, they sought a taste of Harajuku's uniqueness, propelling it into the phenomenon it has become today.

#carol #the cools #70s japan #70s japanese music #harajuku #70s harajuku #non nakamura #sayoko yamaguchi #david bowie

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maytheoddshq · 29 days

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Mahlon McCreary (he/him). District 12 Tribute. 30. Ray Nicholson.

TW: abuse, violence, domestic abuse, alcohol, drugs, addiction, overdose, death, gore, body horror

Everyone knew the McCrearys were cursed – with bad blood, bad tempers, bad endings. Mahlon remembered Pa saying it wasn’t always like that, but it didn’t matter. It was that way now, and there was nothing to be done for it.

The McCrearys were as old as the dogwoods, with bark twice as thick. They used to work in the coal mines, and then the scrap yards, and then nowhere at all. With idle hands, they became the devil’s playthings, and Mahlon grew up against a backdrop of poverty-fueled despair. He wasn’t even a bad kid, in the beginning, but when you’re told you’re something long enough, when it’s beaten into you, it starts to stick – starts to feel like a well-worn jacket, threadbare denim fitting perfectly to form.

He started smoking young, and drinking younger — and when he did show up to school, he always caused a scene. Mahlon knew he was owed nothing, so he took everything, desperate for the attention.

He initiated most of the trouble kids in Twelve could manage, and most of the violence too – claiming a back section of the woods as his stomping grounds where Peacekeepers rarely did rounds. Around Twelve, he sometimes cracked jokes, sometimes punches. It all worked, in a way. He polarized the world around him into friends and enemies, with no appreciation or consideration for a gray between. And while this crassness and cruelty earned him plenty of ire, it also afforded him a tight circle – and kept the McCreary name out of people’s mouths, or it at least made them think twice before speaking openly.

After all, there was plenty to talk about.

A family tree of fuck-ups before him, Mahlon McCreary Sr. had been in and out of jail his whole life. When he wasn’t sleeping it off in a cell, he was doing the same shit that would land him back there in a few month’s time. Virginia McCreary bore the brunt of it, and Mahlon swore he could tell how soon Pa was going back to jail by how banged up she looked that day. In Mahlon’s early teens, Virgie once ended up with two broken ribs and a fractured collarbone – and the first vial of morphling appeared. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d have flushed it outright, but hindsight was always clear.

He was a child, barely old enough to make sense of the world, when he had to become their sole provider. No one would employ the McCreary’s – they knew better than to let them close – so he lived largely off what little the land could provide. He set traps and hunted for meat, fur, and hide. He tilled barren earth for meager produce, which rarely grew in the ashen soot. He stitched their clothing, and patched their wounds, and stole from others who were even minutely better-off. Sometimes, he thought it would be better if Virgie died. If Pa never came home. Fewer mouths to feed. Fewer humans to bruise. He grew bent and broken, a cruel and seering thing – capable of such harshness that he saw less of himself in the mirror every day, and more of his father. It made him sick.

Mahlon never understood how someone could cause so much harm and still evoke some sense of righteous justice – and then, on the cusp of adulthood, he was Reaped. No one batted an eye at his selection, not even Virgie, who’d been so subdued by morphling that she didn’t realize he’d been called. Mahlon knew it was the curse. It had come for him; there was no sense in fighting it. Twelve was a better place with him gone – safer too. But even the devil craves life, and as the arena approached, Mahlon fashioned himself into a monster capable of the atrocities it would take to emerge alive. In his private training session, he killed, gutted the dummy, and skinned it for its hide, describing in graphic detail how he planned to murder and repurpose each of the 23 tributes in time. It was so disturbing, so detailed and sincere, that he’d watched one Gamemaker turn in disgust, and he knew it was possible: the chance to survive.

They’d awoken in an arena that was barely 12ft by 12ft. It was a cement room, no windows, a hole in the ground. A platform moved through it, piled high with weapons, food, medicine, supplies. Mahlon had watched it lower down, had stared in confusion at the only other tribute there – his own district partner, as it settled on the ground. They were structured according to district first – One at the top, Twelve at the bottom. By the time it reached the bottom, there were only a few items left: a pocket knife, a roll of gauze, a bruised apple, a bottle of salve. They were instructed to select one item each. Any more, any cheating, and they’d be killed on the spot, thanks to the trackers that had been embedded in the tops of their spines. They’d sat across from each other, backs pressed to parallel walls, the whole night, in a stand-off…until they’d been put to sleep by the arena’s gas.

Mahlon awoke in what felt like the same room, but the hole was now on the ceiling and floor. He was higher up in the structure, with a new cellmate – the girl from Two. He recognized her as having earned the same training score, and he understood that they were being matched based on some series of metrics, some combination that changed each night until someone won. They preyed on alliances and dynamics, pairing lovers and enemies together until one of them died. Mahlon knew no one had to die each time, but it was better if they did. Fewer future swaps to survive.

In the finale, there were only two left, but they’d been dropped in separate rooms. They’d been made to find each other, Mahlon understood. But as the platform lowered or rose to each floor, a new horror awaited – the mangled, revived bodies of tributes from before, traps triggered by movement or body heat and sound, and finally each other where they met on the middle floor. Mahlon had kept the pocket knife from that first night, and he did as he promised: gutted and bled the other tribute dry.

In the end, he embarked on his victory tour. The last stop was Twelve – a grand return home. But no one was waiting, no one was left to. Virgie had overdosed, died the day before he’d won. And his father was gone – maybe to rot in a Capitol prison, maybe into the woods and beyond. Mahlon was the only McCreary left standing, and he wasn’t sure if he’d fulfilled the curse or merely managed to get by this time. For years, he returned to the Capitol each cycle to coach the next batch on how to die. It didn’t matter; he was sure it never would.

But Mahlon wasn’t born a fighter. That was learned. At his core, cold as it had become, there was something more. Cat Miller used him for drugs. She’d flirt with him to score for cheap, and he knew it, happy to be her strung-along plaything. Somewhere along the way, Cat realized it wasn’t an act anymore, and the two started seeing each other, white-hot passion leaving the earth around them scorched. But they were spiraling further into addiction, fueling a fire that burned beyond control: the drugs were one thing, and the rebellion was another. Cat, who went by the codename Delphi, ran the rebel radio station Vox Machina, and where she went – even into forbidden Eleven – Mahlon followed. When Slate Skylar was arrested, though, the fog of love dissipated, bringing the truth squarely into view. He begged her to give up the fight, to run away with him, but Cat refused. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. All of Mahlon’s fears came true.

The month’s after were a blur. Moonshine kept him numb, and chores on Greer Morgan’s farm kept him busy. Idle hands were the devil’s plaything, which meant he was nothing more than a puppet to enact his bidding. Mahlon fed the chickens. He painted the shutters. He tried to decipher where in him the anger stemmed from: behind the eyes? In the center of his tongue? Somewhere low, in his stomach? Back at the Tower, amid the commotion of Meta Morphic having been reaped, Mahlon laid low. He sold his stash. He muddled through emotion. And in the shadowy moments – beneath the Capitol’s center in a speakeasy, on the grass of the Panem Zoo after-hours, in a dark corner of District Zero – Mahlon learned that many things can be true. He could have loved Cat, and been broken by the loss of her, and fallen in love with Greer too.

But the elation of the discovery was short-lived. Slate won, and Snow dropped bombs upon Twelve, leveling the district, destroying Mahlon’s home. Displaced, he returned to Ten with Greer, taking up arms in Eleven – though this time, of his own accord. The year after was spent in a state of dull fury. Rage at the system that took away the only pieces of his life he had left – places, mere memories – and cold, empty grief. Mahlon went to Twelve to rebuild. He went to Eleven to fight. He went to Ten for Greer, and in the moments of brief reprieve where the world wasn’t too big, and too loud, and too terrible, Mahlon polished Virgie’s wedding ring, wiping the bitter stain of the past out. Eleven was freed, and though the crops dwindled and the war raged on, there was hope again. For the first time in years, Mahlon felt awake, his conviction strong.

But the Reaping twist was a sharp blade on soft flesh, his one protection lost. It was no great surprise when – before the district, or what little remained – Mahlon’s name was called. Admittedly, he was only grateful to not hear Hestia’s, or another of her kids’. And on the train to the Capitol – one he’d have taken anyway – it was the greatest relief to look at the other tributes and not see Cat or Greer’s names. The dull rage returned, pooling shallow on the surface. The Capitol had made him a beast once before. And to live? Mahlon would become it again.

Token: Virgie’s Locket (with Virgie & Greer inside)

PENNED BY LENA

#oc rp #lsrpg #established rp #thg rp #the hunger games rp #accepted #mahlon

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