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#just in case. bc of victor

yucca-moth · 2 months

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I'm doing a new playthrough and it's getting me thinking about stuff. I find it incredibly harrowing that Victor basically has a dead guy's brain copied into him and has to do whatever House tells him to do.

Trudy is telling me how 'it's' hiding something, and doesn't trust Victor at all. Easy Pete telling me how he's harmless and "a broken down relic with no place to be."

Got me thinking again about how Victor's just been rolling around every so often in Goodsprings (while I'm assuming every so often switching consciousness to another robot). Why? Why keep watch over Goodsprings? It's not like it's instrumental to the strip or House at all to hang around there for 10 years.

Which leads me to the deeper questions like how much humanity remains in him? How much of the person he's based on remains specifically? Does he still think like a human, or are all the processes now... hmm filtered through machine like reasoning?

What got me thinking about Victor in this way again was suddenlyremembering how I asked him to help us defend Goodsprings in my first playthrough, and he didn't show up. Feeling disappointed. Then I think I used science skill when I next saw him to determine 'someone' (obv House in retrospect) had shut him down to prevent him showing up to help.

Incredibly horrifying to think that someone who owns you could shut you down like that, no matter their relationship when he was human. If House can shut him down, and gets him to do things like follow me around but not get involved, then how much free will does he have over his actions? Has Victor changed in the last 200 years? Or is he stuck exactly as he was when his brain was scanned, except that he has no choice in what he does now if House doesn't like it. Does he get to die if he wants to? Or is he too useful to House to be allowed that? Can House mess around with his artificial brain or just simply manipulate him into doing what he wants the old fashioned way? Is his compliance with House out of habit from when he was human, choice because he still agrees with House's ideas, or is there no choice for him?

I vaguely remember the explanations he gave me in the Lucky 38 in a previous playthrough making me sad. I can't even remember what he said exactly about himself, but I remember lots of questions feeling left unanswered. Which is part of the fnv experience of course... But, in this case I just couldn't even look at Victor standing outside the Lucky 38 without feeling bad. And now seeing him rolling around Goodsprings it's bringing back some of the sadness

I know part of the fun of FNV is creating your own ideas, roleplaying, deciding how to take situations where it isn't fully fleshed out or the constraints of the game are showing. So idk, I hope maybe I'm thinking about it all in a certain way, and maybe I come across or reason out another way to think about these Victor questions in my current playthrough. But for now he's a bunch of unanswered questions to me.

#fallout new vegas #fnv #if any of this gets a very specific answer in game pls just let me discover it myself. I'm sure I've misremembered some details but maybe #when I replay it this time I'll learn something new and it'll put a different light on it all. maybe less sad #uhhh #fnv spoilers #in case someone who just started the game is excitedly looking through the tag. bc that realization of why Victor dug courier out of the #grave is something you gotta experience firsthand imo. not see it in the fnv tags #i'll make a fnv rambles tag at some point but for now. eh

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clemencetaught · 1 month

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"Here," it's... it's just bread. It's a bun, sure large enough to still some amount of hunger, but it's just bread. And yet, María holds it in front of Patrick with the face of someone who'd consider it a criminal offense to refuse it. Nevermind that she's stolen it from one of the banquets. "Just making sure you're eating." ((RUH-ROH it's Len again~ and I promise I forgot about the Peeta bread thing until I re-read this IGNORE THAT--!! FDKLGJDLAJSGF Hope you didn't end up getting sick BUT IF YOU DID HOPE YOU'RE RESTING AND FEELING BETTER SOON 🥺)) || okay but panem is also known as the nation of bread & circuses– ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

He doesn’t eat much in the Capitol.

Which is ironic, seeing how most of his life before the games, Patrick was always hungry. Always trying between schooling and factory shifts to figure out when his next meal was going to come. Why else would he and Hyuk have taken out tesserae all those years ago? It was preferable, playing the odds in the Reaping to starving for the rest of the year.

Nowadays, food is the least of his concerns. Whereas there is still a dearth in District Three, there is surplus in the Capitol. No surplus isn’t the right word; a surplus would mean the Capitol keeps the extra for the future. No, there is an excess of food in the Capitol, an excess that is dumped and left to rot after the pigs have had their share, have had their fun.

When he remembers that, food in the Capitol, no matter how finely it’s been prepared, becomes disgusting. Repulsive when it is combined with the thought of the districts, his people, still starving and fighting one another for the Capitol’s ‘scraps’. One plate is enough for Patrick to feel the bile swish in his stomach and even crawl back up his throat– how is he supposed to enjoy this filth now?

(But of course the Capitol has a way of perverting everything. Who else would have invented a liquid that makes one vomit what was just digested to make room for more food?)

“You didn’t have to,” is the first set of words to come out of his mouth, however. It’s such a childish gesture on her part; as a victor, she and her family should have more than enough riches to cover for food whether she’s in the Capitol or her own district. That and it’s considered normal to take leftovers from these banquets.

And yet, she’s staring him down like they are in covenance– it’s odd…strange how the things the Capitol deem sacred, she’ll approach with the irreverence of a foreigner and yet with the most mundane of objects, like a loaf of bread, most likely one of the hundred baked today and will be replicated tomorrow, like it is worth the weight of gold. He takes a hold of María’s loot. The loaf is still warm, freshly out of the oven, he wants to believe. Like it came from one of the bakeries in say, District 12, rather than a Capitol banquet table. Does she look at the Capitol and its elaborate feasts the same way? District Eight is probably just as bad if not even worse than his own district when it comes to food shortages so maybe her thievery makes sense.

When one has gone without food for long enough, no amount of surplus is enough to satiate the insecurity. He knows that feeling all too well. His stomach growls in anticipation. “…Normally, the Capitol likes to have this with caviar.” A delicacy from District Four along with butter shipped from District Ten. He splits the loaf in two, the inside crackling and breaking into two crisp pieces. “But I think…I think it tastes just as delicious on its own.” He hands María one half while taking a bite out of the other. “Take the other half; I can’t finish it on my own.”

It tastes delicious.

#vomit cw #not that he actually does but there is mention of it #mythvoiced #mythvoiced ( maría. )#anger said her real name was grief ( maría. )#the victor ( verse three. )#the victor ( answered. )#AND HERE I AM NOW IN THE DEPRESSO VERSE :'DDDD #not me SOBBING first over the reference to the bread.... :'D pe*eta is my darling nobody does it like him </3 #hahaha not me with this hc that...#probably the victors in the outlier districts have complicated relationships with food #just bc a lot of them probably?? suffered from food insecurity??#and then you go to the capitol and suddenly there's an abundance.....#at the price of the districts starving... :///#that's gotta trigger some complicated reactions in the victors especially #so in patrick's case #it's not just that he's not hungry but that seeing the excess is...repulsive to him in most cases #(aka more trauma that since he doesn't actually acknowledge ends up manifesting physically....)#BUT FOR MARÍA!!!! HE WOULD EAT FOR HER :'D HE WOULD SHARE WITH HER TOO BC THAT'S WHAT HE DOES WHEN HE GOT FOOD BACK THEN #he'd share with his loved ones :'D #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK IT WAS VERY STIMULATING TO ANSWER :DDDD (the others are on their way too <3 )#ALSO THANK FOR UR WELL WISHES....i am feeling much better now <3 #a question of justice ( answered. )

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cherabby · 10 months

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i think part of the reason other attempts at Classic Horror Literature in your Inbox have failed to achieve the same success as Dracula Daily (other than the format of Dracula in and of itself being super well suited to the whole thing, which, really, is the MAIN reason) comes down to the protagonists.

like, the one I've seen the most is Frankenstein which is a pretty decent choice but the problem inherent there is that Victor Frankenstein is a massive prick.

So rather than "My good friend Jonathan Harker is telling me about his business trip," it's ends up feeling more like, "this pretentious fuckwad I sat next to in chemistry one time thinks we're friends and won't stop bragging to me about how he's mommy and daddy's specialest genius and so good at everything."

#mind you in the case of Frankenstein it works bc you get to watch his downfall because he's so fucking full of hubris #But I enjoy making fun of victor Frankenstein bc God so much of the early bits are just #Victor for the love of god shut the fuck up #Jackass.#oblig personal post tag

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schrijverr · 4 months

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It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

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lis-likes-fics · 8 months

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Music to My Eyes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, no one likes tapping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/I'm only being honest./

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod and he hums.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

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

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

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

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

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

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

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

/Signing or writing./

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/Mentor cannot speak?/

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

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

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

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

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

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

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

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

Your own smile grows.

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

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

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

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

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

/Yes./

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/What do you like to do?/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did he now?"

"He did."

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

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

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

"I wish I could."

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

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

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

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

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

"The pleasure is all mine."

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

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

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

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

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

/You've got to keep them happy./

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

/I know,/ you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

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

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

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

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

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

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fluff #reader insert #female reader #deaf reader

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mkmas · 7 months

Text

I’m His Cherished Doll (Jude Jazza)

Just in case but MDNI bc it’s quite suggestive. Very sorry some things might be inaccurate and could probably be worded better but I tried my best to match the JP’s nuance (key word tried🥹). Story belongs to CYBIRD ofc.

The crown surrounded me who had became small because of a potion I accidentally took.

(No matter who I choose, it won’t be simple….)

As my eyes were swimming, my gaze met Jude’s who was talking to Roger.

(…Jude doesn’t seem to like small creatures)

(He would step on it, saying he got irritated looking at it)

Jude: What’s with that rude look on your face.

Kate: What are you talking about?

Jude: Don’t play dumb, you’re pissing me off.

Ellis: Kate, would you like Jude to take care of you?

Kate: Eh!?

Jude: Ah? Absolutely not.

Jude: She’s going to cry out loud about how she can’t change back.

Jude: What a pain.

Kate: I-I won’t cry.

Jude: Hn? Is that so.

He looked down at me with a mocking look and I felt frustration rise from the depths of my stomach.

(It’s my fault this situation happened…)

(Whatever the outcome is, I will stand firm.)

Kate: Then please watch over me, I definitely won’t cry.

Jude: ……

Victor: Does that mean you want to ask Jude to take care of you?

Kate: Eh? Ah…….

I hesitated for a moment. I can’t imagine what I will go through.

(But… If I pull back now, it would mean that I’m admitting Jude was right and I don’t like it.)

Kate: …..Yes, I would like to ask Jude.

Jude: Ha………

Jude looked away to a distant place*** in disgust and sighed,

He picked me up by the collar.

Kate: Kyaaaa!?

Jude: It would be better for you to not rage/struggle, princess.

Jude: If you slip and fall, you might accidentally get stepped on, right?

Kate: Hih……

The smaller the size, the more powerful this ruthless villain’s face gets.

Jude: You’re already tearing up. If you want to take back what you said, why don’t you do it now?

I’m sure I will glare back at those amethyst eyes that look down on me.

(…….. I will definitely not lose….!)

—————

Jude left the castle with me picked up.

Kate: Jude, if I’m left hanging like this I would for sure…….!

Jude: You could be targeted by some bad guy or get eaten by a bird.

Kate: Could you please hide me then……?

Jude: There’s no place to hide a creature that won’t crush it.

(…..Well, indeed.)

Jude’s shirt and jacket had no breast pockets,

If he were to put me in the pocket of his pants, I will surely be crushed to death.

Kate: …..How about wrapping me with the palm of your hands…..?

Jude: ………

Jude’s palm gently rolled around my torso.

(Ah………….)

His fingers were so long that it was more than enough to go around my torso,

My instinctive sense of danger rose when I felt slight tightening.

Jude: You know what? You’re so cute I might just crush you.

Kate: …….Nn

Suppressing my fear, I gripped the fingers around my body.

Kate: Sure. Then I will bite your hand and resist.

Jude: ……Tch

Jude clicked his tongue in annoyance and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt with one hand.

Kate: ? What are you doi- Wa!?

Just as I tilted my head back, plop, he threw me into his shirt

Kate: Hey…..!?

When I realized that I had been thrown into the space between Jude’s bare skin and his shirt, my face heated up.

Kate: Wha-What the……. You can just use your hand…….!

Jude: You’re so noisy. I can’t smoke if I hold out my hand.

Kate: But…. This…..

No matter how much my body shrunk, my arms and cheeks were touching his bare body.

The thought of touching Jude’s bare skin made me feel a sense of wickedness.

(I smell the bitterness of cigarettes…… and a sweet smell that scares me a little)

Usually, I can only faintly smell the scent as we pass by each other, but it envelopes my entire body, making my heart flutter uncontrollably.

Jude: ….. By the way, if you try anything naughty, I will crush you through my shirt.

Kate: I would never do that….!

Jude ignored my upset state and calmly walked away.

—————

(Here, the library….?)

Jude pulled me out from his shirt and tossed me onto the sofa set up on the side,

He walked among the bookshelves as if he already knew what he was looking for, and picked up a book that appeared to be it without hesitation and returned.

Jude started to read the book while sitting on the sofa, and I spoke to him softly.

Kate: Today’s work, is it okay if you don’t go……?

Jude: ……….

Kate: ……….. What are you reading?

Jude: ……….

Jude seemed determined to ignore me.

(……. You could just tell me a little.)

I scoot over the sofa and climbed on Jude’s lap.

Jude: …… Oi

(The letters are too big….. And the words are too difficult to understand…. “Plasma Half Life”?)

(Must be a medical journal or something….)

Jude: ……….

The moment I leaned forward between the pages to read the words at the top-

Kate: … Ah!

Suddenly, the book snapped shut and crushed me.

Kate: Wha-what are you doing……!?

Jude: What, I thought it was a bug but it was a talking bug.

The book pops open, and my body that had been sandwiched rolls onto the page.

Kate: Un-Unbelievable………

Jude: How bad of you to climb on top of the book. Apologize to the book.

Kate: That’s……

Kate: ….. Indeed, I may have misbehaved.

(…. I’m the one causing you trouble, but I get mad at you for being a little mean to me.)

(I…. Maybe I’m a little crazy)

This situation we’re in is my fault.

No matter what the outcome is, I’ll stand firm….. I was trying to be strong like that, but the truth is.

(I’m anxious and confused.)

(Perhaps… I was trying to take it all out on Jude)

Kate: ….. I’m sorry, Jude.

Jude: I told you to apologize to the book, not me.

Jude picked me up from the top of the book and tossed me next to him on the sofa.

Jude: Enough. It’s time for the princess to shut up and go to sleep.

Kate: ……. Okay.

Curled up on his knees, Jude started reading again.

The sound of long fingers turning pages, and occasionally the sound of a pen being used to take notes.

Listening to such sounds, I gradually felt sleepy.

Kate: ……. Un.

Suddenly, I woke up to the sound of someone talking.

(Jude….and Ellis….?)

Ellis: I’ve already informed to postpone the meeting that was scheduled today.

Ellis: Also, that buyer came again, this time saying he wanted to have a business meeting and left some samples.

Ellis: And then…

As I gradually start to wake up, various paperwork comes in.

(… I knew it, he still had work to do today…)

Ellis: You didn’t bring Kate around with you, is it because you didn’t want her to get into all sorts of trouble?

Jude: Ah?

Ellis: Jude who is watched by various kinds of people….

Ellis: If they see Kate outside in that state, I don’t know what they’ll do to her.

Jude: ….NO.

Jude: Here, take this to Roger.

Ellis: What’s this?

Jude: A summary of the literature that damn doctor gave me this morning. Just give it to him and he’ll understand.

Ellis: Ah… Did he say he might need it to help Kate change back?

Without answering the question, Jude waved his hand to shoo Ellis away.

By that time, I was already wide awake.

(Ah……)

I felt weight on my body and leaned over to see that Jude’s jacket was draped over me.

(…… Why)

You bully me and try to make me cry, yet you show such kindness when I’m asleep.

My heart tightens as I’m enveloped by the sweet and bitter scent that I have unexpectedly become familiar with.

(Jude’s scent….)

The scent I inhaled made my core hot, as if it had been ignited.

Jude: You’re awake at last, Sleeping Beauty.

Kate: ……

My heart skipped a beat. When I looked up, I saw amethyst eyes staring at me.

Kate: …… Thank you.

Jude: Huh? You must’ve mistaken it for good morning.

Kate: No, I meant……….

Kate: Work…. You took a break from work to do some research for me…..?

Jude: You were eavesdropping, nasty woman.

Jude: I didn’t do it for you. It’s just to get this bad omen/charm over with.

Kate: Still…

Kate: It made me happy.

It was very embarrassing to tell him, so I clutched his jacket tightly.

My face feels hot… and my body feels hot too.

(… It must be the side effects of the drug.)

(I’m sure of it.)

I immediately gave reason to this strange reaction my body gave.

Otherwise, the heat would be uncontrollable.

Jude: … Ha.

Suddenly, Jude’s long fingertips lifted my chin.

Jude: What’s with that face? You’re such a gullible woman.

Kate: …..

My chest tightened and my breath hitched.

Why does my heart beat so loudly even when I’m told such terrible things.

Jude: What, you’re so breathing so hard. You’re aroused.

Kate: …..

Jude: If anything happens to this tiny body, it will break you.

Kate: Ah……

With a poke on my shoulder, I fell into the sea of Jude’s jacket.

His scent grew stronger, and I felt a sweet tingle in the pit of my stomach that made me feel dizzy.

Jude: ……..

As if he could see right through me, Jude’s fingertips firmly pressed on the area just below the navel.

Kate: Uhn, ah……..

My legs jumped and I instinctively squeezed my thighs together.

Jude: …. What, you got turned on from this? You’re really bad huh.

Kate: …..

My heart pulsed violently, and I closed my eyes tightly to cover up the tears that were slowly seeping out-

Kate: ….. Eh!?

Jude: …..!

Like a silk ribbon unraveling, my body smoothly returned to its original state.

Kate: Ah….. I’m back……!? Why…..!?

Jude: The drug must’ve worn off.

Jude: It was either naturally diluted by metabolism or it decomposed.

Jude: Ha-….. Shit, all that research I did was for nothing.

My heart was still racing when Jude clicked his tongue in irritation.

(T-Thank goodness…….)

(I don’t know what would have happened to me if I couldn’t go back-)

Jude: …. So, how long are you gonna stay dressed like that?

Kate: ….. Eh?

(Dressed like that?)

I looked around and saw that the doll clothes I’ve been wearing had fallen to the side of the sofa.

(Huh? I, right now-)

Kate: P-Please don’t look at me!

I quickly got up and put on Jude’s jacket that was under my body.

Jude: Oi, that’s mine.

Kate: C-Can I please borrow it for a moment………

Jude: I don’t like it. You must’ve wet it from earlier. It’s dirty.

Kate: Wet…..!? I-I won’t get it dirty……..

Jude: Oh? Then, let’s see.

Kate: Let’s see….How……?

Jude: Don’t you get it?

Jude put his hands on the sofa and brought his face closer to mine.

I watched his long fingers sink into to the soft sofa, right next to my knee…..

Kate: ………..

I felt a rush of excitement, and I hurriedly pulled the front of his jacket tighter, pressing my thighs together.

Kate: N-No, no………..

Jude: ………..

Jude looked down at me with a cold look and without saying word.

I became conscious of the jacket that was under my bottoms, which made my body hot.

(…. If this keeps up, I’ll really-)

My heart was pounding and I took a deep breath to regulate my breathing.

Jude: …. What are you expecting?

Jude withdrew without revealing the inside of the jacket.

Kate: I-I’m not expecting anything…….

Jude: Liar. You’re getting all teary-eyed because you’re imagining getting it all dirty.

The heat is so palpable that my body stiffened.

Jude: If you get it dirty, you will have to compensate for it, but if you don’t then I’ll let you borrow it.

Kate: C-Compensate…..

Jude: What will it be?

(Compensation, what)

What will he make me do.

I don’t know, but I’m sure it would thicken me up, but not hurt me. Yes I’m sure of it.

If I imagine, my body would probably get even hotter-,

It’s because of the sweet and bitter scent that still haunts me.

The End.

*** They used the idiom: 明後日の方

* It’s 4am there are probably errors I missed

#hes very actions speak louder than words #even tho his words are already strong enough haha #95k story was pretty packed #jude jazza #ikevil #ikemen villains

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incorrectsibunaquotes · 5 months

Text

I have a theory that the reason we as an audience feel like Sibuna in Season 3b are making monumentally stupid choices is because the show doesn’t actually spell out for us that the kids don’t have all the information we have. In fact, they are operating with less than half of our knowledge. (This is gonna be a longgggg post, so read under the cut if you dare)

On my latest rewatch of S3 for fanfic purposes, i found myself really struggling to justify why the hell Eddie couldn’t put two and two together with his vision of Patricia and the “traitor” in Sibuna. I was frustrated with him because to me it was incredibly obvious! Like who else could it possibly be?? But then, I rewatched it again with a closer eye and everything suddenly clicked:

We, the audience, are watching the action from a completely zoomed out angle. We’re not just following Sibuna, but we’re also following Team Evil. We know Robert is capturing Sinners and what a Sinner actually is, before Sibuna is even fully aware that they failed to stop the eclipse ceremony. The kids metaphorically tripped at the starting line.

Furthermore, this is the first time in the show that the Sibunas have not had either the upper hand or were even on equal playing field with the adults. In Season 1, the Society was wholly unprepared for a bunch of adolescents to start foiling in their plans (bc why would they be prepared for that??), and Sibuna basically destroyed them due to adults underestimating their willingness to fuck around and find out. In Season 2, Victor/Vera and Sibuna were on equal ground; no one knew how to solve the tasks and it was a matter of a bunch of separate parties trying to figure it out before each other. They were all just throwing shit at the wall and hoping it stuck.

At the top of Season 3, we play a lot with both the S1 and S2 dynamics. At first, Sibuna is leagues and bounds ahead of the adults, and then they pretty quickly end up on the same footing. Then, in the second half of the season, that entire dynamic is flipped on its head, and it’s Sibuna who are wholly unprepared for the adults. I’ve talked about how the kids, especially our Sibuna veterans, got a little too comfortable with Victor and co’s ineptitude and cocky with their own intelligence… but that’s not even why they were so slow on the uptake.

None of the Sibunas even hear the word “Sinner” until they find that book in the secret room and read it while sitting on the stage. And the book does not explain at all what a Sinner actually is. It tells them that Ammut needs “the souls of five human sinners who embody the greatest flaws on mankind” and once she has five of them she can enter the human realm and cause lots of problems. Absolutely nowhere in the book does it ever say “Also, much like Robert, the soulless body of the Sinner is reawakened in service to the underworld.” The only other hint that could have possibly clued anyone in is “when your friends are not your friends”. But like, that clue was ages ago! Why would they even be thinking about that, when it had absolutely no bearing on their hunt for the secret room/answers up to that point? I cannot stress this enough, THEY HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE WHAT A SINNER IS! (I’m gonna repeat this sentence about 400 times in case you don’t get it now lol) Mind you, that atp in the timeline, this is approximately fifteen or so minutes before Denby captures Patricia.

But let’s rewind all the way back to when Team Evil devises a plan to kidnap Eddie. He’s in the crypt, right? It’s pretty evident to him that it was probably Denby, Victor, and/or Robert who trapped him here, but he’s got no real clue as to why. Of course, we all know that they’re planning on turning him into a Sinner, because we saw Victor get turned. But as far as Sibuna knows, Victor has never really been on their side, so all they think is that he’s being meaner than usual but of course he’s opposing them. That’s not strange.

Okay, so Eddie is stuck and distressed, but he’s not as panicked as he needs to be because nowhere in his mind does he think this could potentially end in what is essentially his death. Now, throw in the horrifying vision he has of Patricia getting dragged into a glowing sarcophagus. He still doesn’t know what a Sinner is, but he knows that whatever he just saw was really bad; it’s an incentive from the Osirian spirit (or the house, or the gods, or literally whatever) to actually try to get the hell out of there.

So we’re all sitting here watching going “Oh my god they’re gonna nab Patricia and make her evil! 😰” because we have context; Eddie has absolutely none. It’s also really important for later on that his vision ends when the sarcophagus door shuts. It’s framed as incredibly final, and for all Eddie knows, they’ve just stuffed Patricia in what he knows is a tiny cramped space and locked the door behind her. He thinks that at best they are going to kidnap her or, at worst, straight up kill her. Nothing in that vision indicates she’s walking out of there at all.

When Patricia ran off after the fake messages, Eddie is concerned for a lot of different reasons, but the two primary ones are the obvious “oh my god my girlfriend thinks I cheated on her what do I do???” and the other is “if she’s run off on her own, the adults could fulfill my vision!” But then she turns back up, which should be clear to us by now means that he thinks she’s safe. He’s waiting for her (for any of them) to disappear. But when none of them do, they think it’s fine. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t think Patricia is in danger of becoming a Sinner, he just doesn’t realize what that would actually look like.

Even when they’re all in the hallway morbidly joking about having to give up sinning, the language KT uses is telling of what they think being a Sinner means: “We don’t want to accidentally help out Team Evil [by sinning].” Of course, this statement works with the knowledge the audience has of everything, but if Sibuna actually knew what they were dealing with, KT would have said something more like “We don’t want to get captured/turned by Team Evil.” The jokes they’re making are still morbid, but because they think you just get put in the sarcophagus and that’s the end of it.

Let’s flash forward again to the phonograph getting smashed and Eddie’s second vision that prompts the witch hunt panic in the first place. The vision can be separated into three parts: 1) Eddie sees a hooded figure smash the phonograph (okay Sibuna already knows someone did it on purpose, not too crazy); 2) Robert approaches him creepily and has the mic-drop moment of “it was one of your little friends; you have a viper in your nest” (seriously what a raw line of dialogue… but also now Eddie is being told that there is a traitor. Pretty cut and dry); 3) he turns around and sees every other member of Sibuna mockingly throw up the Sibuna sign (uh oh!)

So here is where people (including me!) always got a little annoyed with Eddie for not doing the math. But upon several rewatches and actually listening to what everyone was saying, never once do any of the kids ever bring up the word “Sinner” during the entirety of this whodunnit arc. And that’s simply because it’s not even a thought that crosses their minds. The language they use is very telling: “traitor” and “betrayal” being the heavy hitters. If any of them actually had context for what was actually going on, the language they would be using would be more like “victim” or literally just “Sinner” as a noun. But they don’t, which is why they’re so hostile toward one another… and why KT was screwed from the moment Eddie had that vision.

Because the fact that they don’t know that a Sinner is an evil version of themselves (not just someone whose soul is being used as a power generator), means that on a subconscious level Fabian, Alfie, and even Eddie already assumed KT was guilty. And Sinner!Patricia knew that, and that’s why she was so easily able to pivot and pin it on her. KT was directly linked to Frobisher, and Fabian and Alfie had already been suspicious of her at the start of the season for other reasons. It’s why Fabian let Patricia help him with the finger printing in the first place: because he doesn’t believe it’s her. And Eddie would have no real reason to suspect Patricia for three reasons: 1) Because he’s in love with her; 2) Because he knows just how long Patricia (and Fabian, and Alfie) have been loyal to Sibuna and to each other; 3) Because he, like everyone else, was looking at this betrayal as a willing capitulation to the Team Evil.

The first time Sibuna becomes aware that a Sinner is an entity that they have to actually watch out for walking about (as opposed to just having to watch out becoming), is after KT and Harriet manage to escape Patricia in the Gatehouse. Harriet clearly knows what a Sinner is bc she has the presence of mind to actually explain (vaguely, of course, because she’s drugged to kingdom come) to KT what she’d just narrowly escaped.

And then when she confronts Sibuna and Patricia in the hallway after Miss Crocodile Tears is telling tales about KT trying to kidnap her, KT drops the bomb on the boys: “She was trying to make me a Sinner just like her!” Pause. Record scratch. Okay. Now everything they thought they knew about the situation is completely recontextualized as something much more sinister than what they initially thought. Because I’d always struggled with how cruel they were being to KT, especially if they thought it wasn’t her fault. But everything up until this point deeply suggests or rather expects us to understand that Sibuna only had two pieces of an 100 piece puzzle, and that them being mean to KT was because they thought she actually betrayed them.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is not stupid for not figuring it out right away. In fact, without knowing what a Sinner actually is, it would be an insane leap to assume Patricia had anything to do with the phonograph.

I’ve basically talked myself and all of you in several circles, but the bottom line is the show didn’t do a fabulous job of telling us that Sibuna had no clue what they were up against. It’s easy for us to sit back and go “what the hell is wrong with them are they stupid?” because we have all the knowledge of what’s going on eons before they do. This is a far more charitable read of the characters’ choices and thought process, and the only way any of their actions make any sense. In fact, this is less of a theory and more of what is… literally canon, I guess

#live laugh love dramatic irony #Maybe you all already knew this and didn’t need this behemoth text post but yeah #or maybe you were like me and just like ‘oh they’re all a bit daft aren’t they?’#tbh this makes everything about this arc way more sinister #anyway sorry that this is so rambly #I refuse to write real essays anymore I graduated leave me alone #house of anubis #tess rambles

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strongestrat · 9 months

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HIIIII HI HELLO ENTROPY ZERO PEOPLE IT IS I AND I HAVE COME TO DEFEND AIDEN WALKER/BAD COP AND IF U THINK HES ANNOYING UR WRONG AND SHOULD FEEL BAD /j

Bad cop in entropy zero 1 wasn't exactly the blank slate people expect from half life games/mods, but he didn't have much depth-- all we really knew back then was that he was quippy and very good at his job. He doesn't like people at all and is loyal to the combine to a fault, but we don't know his past, what his motivations are, and we kind of don't need to. EZ1 is about survival in a harsh environment where everything and anything is trying to kill u and u just sort of stop a gigantic rebel plot by accident and u get a shiny (mandatory) promotion out of all of it.

Entropy zero 2's writing is really fucking underappreciated because it takes that basic framework and elaborates on it ingeniously. When he insults people he kills or says "people suck" its not because he's quirky or some kind of generic marvel character it's because people do genuinely fucking SUCK. They used a mentally ill man as a scapegoat for a crime he was a victim of that cost him his family, locked him in a prison/care facility and tried to "change" him. Because he wasn't "normal" to their standards. They stripped him of every single comfort and right he had, every reason he ever had to care about a human being, not just the justice system and prosecutors who failed him and the caretakers who likely neglected or mistreated him but the people who hurt his family and took his daughter and the people who likely discriminated against him simply for existing in a neurotypical society.

This also gives Aiden a degree of separation from loyalty to the combine. He's not just evil for the sake of it he wants to find his daughter Ava and the combine's family cohesion perks are the only chance he has. He's loyal but only because he has an incentive to, and he won't hesitate to kill anyone, and I do mean *anyone*, including his coworkers and a fucking COMBINE ADVISOR if he thinks they can't help him or are trying to stop him from finding Ava. He's good at his job but gets in trouble for killing other cops in a rage induced stupor (not unlike victor-sixty) and of course because these are cops and his boss likes him the chief lets him go with a slap on the wrist and "outland duty" because he is "worth 10 of those guys", and he fucking IS. And Aiden takes it like a champ bc he will do fucking anything to find Ava. His Humor doesn't resonate with everyone and that is understandable (some ppl find him annoying and hes not for everyone), but he's not trying to be funny for funny's sake! He's using it as a coping mechanism for the fact that he has nothing else left and he's being lead along in the hope that he can regain atleast SOMETHING from his old life.

And of course, there is the master template (clone cop) and wilson. I love u wilson and u are definitely the canon ending but i wish i didnt have to babysit u without feeling bad I am getting sidetracked

A clone plot is hard to pull off and in most cases fails spectacularly but in Entropy Zero 2 it just fucking works. Clone cop/master is just the older clone of Aiden but fucking UNHINGED. His loyalty to the combine is gone because he realized they're just using him as an effective tool, and the moment he gets Ava he has no reason to fight for them anymore. So naturally he RIPS OUT A PART OF HIS FUCKING SKULL AND SUSTAINS HIMSELF WITH BOOTLEG CYBERNETICS (I am not joking EZ2 is good at environmental storytelling u can find his fucking skullcap in his little laboratory just before plan B) there are so many little details I noticed on clone cop just before escorting judith on how he butchered himself just to stay independent and have a better chance at finding Ava. His will is fuckign unbreakable which feeds directly into his relationship with the player character Aiden. Clone cop is less of a clone then the Aiden u play as is!!! He even has the prototype AR2! In contrast, the Aiden u play as is clearly modified-- He's much more loyal to the combine but his will isn't unbreakable, and while Wilson doesn't directly factor into whether or not he chooses to fight the Advisor Wilson is CRUCIAL. Clone cop is methodical, using the survival skills from the events of the first game to subvert the rebels, the wildlife, even the combine-- The player character Aiden in turn is (arguably) less badass then Clone cop precisely because they modified him to be more loyal, taking away some of that incredible will and tenacity to try and keep him under wraps. This is proven in the there will be darkness ending where Aiden is mowed down like a standard grunt as soon as his memories/what makes him himself are taken from him.

THE WILSON ENDING IS THE CANON ENDING. THIS IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE.

Wilson is such a fucking important support friend for Aiden because he actually gets the chance to talk with something that isn't a human and is very sympathetic. Aiden goes from being fed up with him and using him as a survival tool to being genuinely concerned for him over the course of the game, Wilson is at first just a way for Bad cop to escape the lab beneath arbiet and maybe pick up supply caches scattered across the other arbiet facilities and sure MAYBE that's the only reason that Aiden brings him along at first but Wilson is very nice and sympathetic and he doesn't judge Aiden and it just. Gives Aiden a chance to rant about his feelings and open up and remember things instead of taking medication and bottling all of his emotions up. Wilson in turn is just thankful to escape the labs beneath arbiet and maybe have a chance at becoming an administrator AI one day if Aiden uploads him into the arbiet AI mainframe!!!! And the coolest part out of all of this is that clone cop only used Wilson as a tool and didn't really care about him but someone like Wilson is exactly what he needed to start healing!!! And the fact that Wilson is able to infiltrate the combine network undetected and free Aiden from the Combine when he's captured out of unconditional love and the fact that "hes da boss" is fucking GREATI am just fucking! Going insane!!! Its so well written!

In entropy zero 3 wilson and aiden will destroy the combine forever and victor sixty will also be there and he and Aiden will get married (real)

#Aiden Walker #entropy zero 2 #entropy zero uprising #entropy zero #Wilson #Clone Cop #ITS SO FUCKING WELL WRITTEN AM I THE ONLY ONE TO NOTICE ALL OF THESE THINGS I HOPE NOT ITS SO COOL ITS SO AWESOME ITS SO #rambling again #I dont care I just want to talk abt my special interest

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sitp-recs · 5 months

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liv, out of curiosity, have you ever read fics where draco has to get married ( bc of bloodline etc ) so he has to break up with harry, or something like that? 🤔 i saw people talking about this idea online and i realised that i never come across anything like that before? but considering how many fics there are in the fandom i wonder if i just don’t know what tags to use! i suppose you’ve read more than me ( since i haven’t been reading their fics for too long ) you don’t have to rec them for me tho! just a silly question, thank you!!

Hi anon, thank you for the ask! Now I think about it I realize that I rarely come across this trope, but maybe that’s just because it’s not a storyline I’m very interested in? I assume most fics are not usually on my radar. Despite that I got a few recs that might fit, hope you enjoy and maybe my followers can add more?

Phoenix in the Fire by @lqtraintracks (E, 28k)

Harry never expected to have a hot summer fling with Draco Malfoy when he agreed to mind the castle with him. He also never expected that it would all have to end on August thirty-first. What happens when casual sex with Harry’s ex-enemy turns not casual after all? And how the hell is he going to stop Draco from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life?

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

Red Thread (that will lead me home to you) by xErised (E, 35k)

It takes four years of travelling and mutual pining for Harry to realise that Malfoy is the only one for him. Of course, he has to express his feelings in the most scandalous way possible—by stopping Malfoy's very proper, very pureblood wedding.

Paper Rings by lettersbyelise (E, 50k)

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

We Are Young (I'll Carry You Home Tonight) by Femme (E, 69k)

Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement--and financial gain--of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister's office, they can't work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn't it?

Running Mate by Kbrick (E, 171k)

Nearly a decade after his relationship with Draco Malfoy imploded, Harry has a good life. He’s riding a wave of entrepreneurial success in muggle Chicago, and, for the first time ever, he's beholden to no one. Meanwhile, Draco is in London, making a name for himself in politics, and appears to be happily married. And so what if neither one of them has ever stopped thinking about the way things used to be?

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #break up make up #arranged marriage

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silversnowblossom · 3 months

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so hear me out: vbs hunger games au

toya and an are careers

akito and kohane are not

toya is bc his dad is like the head peacekeeper of district 1 or smthing so he had toya train and so this round toya volunteers bc he really doesn't care if he lives or dies he just wants to get away from his dad

an is less of a traditional career. her dad is a very popular, very successful victor of a previous game, and he has her trained just in case she ever gets picked, so that she has the best possible chance of survival. the hope is that she doesn't but. just in case. she is certainly not being pushed to volunteer like most careers. bc this is district 4 tho, and district 4 doesn't always have career volunteers, not like district 1 and 2, so the chance is still there that she'd get picked and ken wants her to be able to live if she does

i think kohane would be district 11 and akito would be district 12

akito and ena's dad is probs from the town, not the seam, which is why ena can afford to be indoors and do art and stuff, but we all know their dad is a piece of shit who doesn't rlly care about his kids so sometimes to make ends meet, akito takes out the tesserae and does some work in the coal mines

yeah anyway an is best at unarmed hand-to-hand combat and toya is trained with a blade

akito and kohane make do, tho kohane's a menace w a mace and she also has the best survival skills of the four. again, district 11, so she knows all about edible and non-edible plants. maybe akito uses a machete?

two possible endings

good ending all four of them pull a katniss & peeta

bad ending akito dies taking a blow for toya and after that toya is an absolute mess and slips back to that apathy where he doesn't care if he lives or dies. the only reason he doesn't kill himself is bc that would dishonor akito's sacrifice but he's not particularly desperate to live and so he gets reckless, and it's almost a relief when he dies

after that, it's just an and kohane. they survive until the end, and that's when an reveals she got poisoned by one of the capitol's muttations or smthing and she dies in kohane's arms

kohane's the victor, but--

it's a hollow victory when all three of her friends are dead

#vivid bad squad #vbs #pjsk #akito shinonome #toya aoyagi #an shiraishi #kohane azusawa #hunger games au #random thoughts #fic ideas #ramblings

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doomreed · 3 months

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I’m not hyped about the new fantastic four news either. though I think what I kind of hope will happen is marvel doing something like they did in the last mcu spider man movie where we see 3 peter parkers team up.

I think it would be super cool to see the cast from the 2005-2007 fantastic four movie meet with the ones from the newest movie. and have the 2005-2007 Doom (Julian McMahon) meet with the Doom from this upcoming fantastic four film too.

so we have more than one “fantastic four” team and also more than one Victor von Doom in the same movie. that would be pretty epic to see in my humble opinion. (if this really is the case, I still have hope that marvel won’t mess it up, because it sure has the potential to be great.)

I mean marvel did just very recently confirm that all the events prior to the mcu (so… sony’s spider man and fantastic four) are also canon to the mcu, and I doubt they would say that if they didn’t plan to do something with it (they said it after the event of the last spider man movie with 3 peter parkers), especially when mcu is heavily heading towards the direction of multiverse, various timelines, various variants of the same person (character) right now. I mean we basically have 3 peter parkers (from both sony and mcu) and literally a bunch of lokis. so let’s see what’ll happen next.

also not related to the topic but I should just say that I’ve been a fan of your blog for some time now. thank you for all the DoomReed goodies

The only part of the casting I agree with is Ben. It feels like Marvel is playing it extremely safe with casting Pedro, like since Multiverse of Madness they've clearly been aiming for the "soft dad" angle with Reed, probably in an attempt to get ahead of possible complaints about him based on canon? I love Reed Richards to a fault, but he's always been a little bit of an asshole. Not intentionally, and much of that perceived assholeness stems from him being on the spectrum imo but it's there, and ignoring that does him as much a disservice as playing up Tony's alcoholism purely for laughs and then never mentioning it again was to that character--another thing the MCU has done.

The poster, the casting, idk. It radiates a nuclear-family blandness, with a camp overlay used purely for aesthetics that will probably be quite popular with general audiences and leave F4 fans from the comics and old movies and other sources of media quite cold. We are not the audience Marvel Studios wishes to court, they've made that very clear.

I'd love to be wrong about how this will play out, though. Pedro is a gifted character actor when he's allowed to be, the trouble is, studios know too well how much audiences love him as a person, and are too prone to mixing the two to improve audiences' appreciation of a character he's playing, rather than just letting the man cook. 😔

I don't have a firm opinion of the other cast other than: this will be the most money anyone named Kirby has ever made on Fantastic Four, so good on her. 👍 And the Ben casting feels right. I'm outside the Johnny demographic so no real opinion there.

I had read that the baddie for the first movie will be Galactus, which is like leading your football season with the Superbowl? But no one asked me, so... 😅 maybe they have a set up that will make that work, who can say.

I've also read (on reddit, so make of that what you will) that Doom will have a "cameo" in the first movie, but no clue what that means or even of it's true.

I like your idea a lot. I think the Deadpool & Wolverine movie will have a Fantastic Four cameo of some kind, probably. The comic book we see in the trailer next to Wade's head on the desert world is Secret Wars #5, which is a recap of the story so far and how everyone got to where they are--so it's possible the desert world they're all on is Battleworld, run either by future-verse Doom or (more likely) the Beyonder. I do think the movie will include them in some way bc the studio will want to start building hype for that as their next big project, going into the MCU version of Secret Wars.

And ofc SW will have crossovers galore, since Marvel Studios has unfortunately set audience expectations for that being what it's about 😅 so, worst case, they'll turn up between those two films no doubt.

I'd love to see Julian McMahon's Doom encounter a closer-to-comic-canon version, but a thing to know about Victor is that he kills every variant of himself he meets. Like, historically, that's just his thing (it's an expression of his own self-loathing, which is really tragic in a way) ...I dunno if the MCU will carry that fun little trait over, but as a writer I can say it's an easy, low-stakes way of showing "this character is a bad guy and also there is something very wrong with him" so... yanno. I am expecting it. 😁

Sorry for the negativity on this, I'm trying to stay upbeat about it all but so far they're not inspiring confidence yet. We'll see what future developments bring, if nothing else we'll always have fanart and fics and the comics themselves. It's not like this fandom hasn't dealt with bad adaptations before, I think we'll be alright whatever happens.

#thank you though #hope to get some writing done this week im so far behind 😭#(answered)#i guess this is a long-winded way of me saying it doesn't look gay enough for my liking 😂

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the-ranting-ravens-lair · 2 years

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It’s a fairly common thing to hear that monsters, especially in Gothic literature, represent societal fears of the era they came from. While there is a lot to be said for this point, I think the reason so many people (myself included) love monsters so much is because, almost universally, they represent ‘otherness’ and their scariness is supposed to come from the fact that they are unnatural, vastly different from humans, incomprehensible, ext. Anyway, I think it’s interesting that this otherness is so pervasive in gothic literature monsters because one of the hallmarks of gothic horror is a sense of isolation, usually in setting but sometimes our protagonists are also just very isloated from society.

Frankenstein’s creature is considered a monster within the first moments of his life- “...but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart,” Victor writes. The creature is outcasted by everyone he encounters, though he’s done nothing wrong and has even helped people, in the cases of the DeLacey family and the little girl. Nothing he does can erase the fact that he is so fundementally different from everyone else that they will always hate him. “I am malicious because I am miserable,” he says. He is a monster in the world’s eyes for existing, and so he truly becomes a monster to try and get back at the world that has caused him so much pain.

Edward Hyde is a fascinating example of this otherness because, at first glance, he is just another fully-evil monster. And while I think it’s fair to say that he isn’t a good person, it’s also fair to say that, since he is the physical embodiment of everything Jekyll had tried to repress about himself, he also is ‘other’. “Many a man would have even blazoned such irregularities as I was guilty of; but from the high views that I had set before me, I regarded and hid them with an almost morbid sense of shame.” Here we see that, even from a young age, Jekyll thinks of his ‘irregularities’ as marking him different from the people of high society that he is surrounded by. There is also a very interesting line later in the book- “All human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil; and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil.” I think it’s interesting because this is what is supposed to drive home how bad Hyde is- he is different from everyone else. There is no other person on earth like him. Even though this line tells us he’s evil, I’ve always thought it presented him in a really sympathetic way.

The Phantom is like Frankenstein’s creature in that the text is pretty forward about ‘otherness’. “Poor, unhappy Erik! Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? He only asked to be ‘some one’, like everybody else! But he was too ugly! And he had to hide his genuis or use it to play tricks with, when, with an ordinary face, he would have been one of the most distinguished of mankind! He had a heart that could have held the empire of the world; and, in the end, he had to content himself with a cellar.” All throughout his life, despite his great skill in many areas, Erik was ostracized (and in many cases, almost killed) by everyone he met, because he was different. No amount of artist genius or human kindness could overcome that. Thus, like Frankenstein’s creature, he became violent and angry.

I think they should all start a support group bc heaven knows they need it

#despite calling myself therantingraven this is the first rant ive posted #anyways tho this is why i love monsters especially these guys #and also why i cry(figuratively) whenever someone insults them #i should write an actual analysis on this sometime #honestly i had no real point with this i just wanted to talk about my favorite monsters <3 #Frankenstein #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #The Phantom of the Opera #Adam Frankenstein #Frankenstein’s creature #Edward Hyde #Erik #no clue what to call that guy tbh #Gothic lit #gothic literature #The Raven's Rants

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eerna · 6 months

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One thing I wish the books could have expanded on is Peeta’s family/home life bc sit seemed like a such a mess lmao.

His mom and dad specially, the mom seemed so mean and cruel from what I remembered (tho with how thg are maybe there was some depth to it that I can’t recall) and his dad was so sweet to even go out of his way to promise Katniss to feed Prim. He also seemed pretty sweet to Peeta too

Is kinda a shame they all just died on book 3

Agreed, he keeps insisting that there is no one who would miss him if he were gone, but he also talks about his friends and family so!! What was going on over there!! I assume that his home life (his mom being abusive, his brothers being distant) convinced him he wasn't very important to people, but he was so beloved by everyone around him I really doubt that was really the case. It's pretty interesting how he ended up falling for a girl he never spoke to in his life and who he assumed didn't even remember him, when you consider how words and contact were his strongest suit. Add to that the fact that people saw him as the guy who will die and make Katniss the victor, and then after that as her accessory, and you get a boy with a pretty horrible image of his own self worth and what he means to others

#eernask #haruwashere29 #eernask talk thg

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loonarmuunar · 4 months

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I really don’t like when people constantly ask for a book from x character’s pov, x victor’s games, etc etc. Bc of course Suzanne is only gonna write another book if she has something to say. But also, I just think it’d be really boring??

Like. We KNOW how Haymitch’s game went. We know the important parts of his story. So then, what else is there? There’s 300-400 pages to fill. It would probably mostly be filler, or those important bits would have to be extremely stretched. Maybe some stuff could be added, but as it’s the past, and not that distant of a past like in tbosas, most of what would be added would just exist to recontextualize scenes in other books.

Or, alternatively, she could make it a short story and just focus on the important parts. In that case, you’d just have the things you already know fed back to you.

Everything we know about the hunger games is everything we NEED to know. To make any of the millions of books y’all want is to make a summary of the games or to make a book with no substance, both of which I feel would be dishonorable to the hunger games saga.

I don’t doubt that Suzanne could make a good book about anyone’s games, but I think it’d an empty and boring book. It would feel out of place in the main storyline, and there’s nothing new we could gain from it, bc as far as we’re concerned there’s nothing else to learn of thg as of now. If she does decide to make something new, then that means she has more to tell, and so far, she does not.

This is what fanfiction is for. I would also love to read something about Haymitch’s game, or Finnick’s, or any character’s, but to have them be apart of the actual book series? Nah. We don’t need that.

#I feel like I’m gonna get flamed for this one skffkkfk #the hunger games #suzanne collins #thg series #thg #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #thg finnick #thg haymitch #thg trilogy #moonar talks about stuff

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