#{ ;verse : may the odds be ever in your favor }
Text
as the son of the most important person in panem, julius was used to people not showing him their real faces — for as far as real faces were even a thing in the capitol. rarely did he meet anyone who wasn't actively trying to get or stay on his good side and it was annoying most of the time. it caused the dark-haired male to push people's buttons to see just how far he could go until they finally broke the facade. it rarely happened which proved just how impactful his last name was. there was one person, however, who he had never needed to try for. they seemed to hate him by default and were possibly the only person in this country to dare show it. idiotic, if it wasn't so incredibly fascinating to him. "if it isn't my favourite capitol citizen." julius greeted them with a smile. he was out for a late brunch. the restaurant he had picked was the one with the most breathtaking view out of all of them, but with the headache from his hangover, he regretted his choice having to bear the bright light. "what a great opportunity to have a meal together. just the two of us."
#fallenstcr#⟨ ♦ | julius snow — dialogues ⟩#⟨ ♦ | may the odds be ever in your favor — verse ⟩#so they could be with someone else#in that case julius will just wave them off probably upsetting your muse even more#or they could be already be alone!
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
it wasn't unusual for alistor to find himself in a party like this one, his whole life had been just that: a bunch of over-the-top, extravagant parties filled with the richest people in the capitol. now, it wasn't that the male wasn't thankful for the family he had been born in, it just felt too overwhelming at times, all the money, the luxury, the parties. glassy piercing blue orbs were wandering around his surroundings, an unfortunate consequence of the liquid that had made its way onto his stomach time and time again that evening, but at this point, he barely cared anymore. a familiar voice caught his attention, glancing her way, raised his glass in her direction. " look who it is," the male commented with a chuckle. "i didn't expect to see you here, i thought our parties were too good for you." / @cocained ♥
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
he's a capitol kid, of course. and after nik goes off to fight in the "revolt" (snow's words) and so he pretty much takes vasily as punishment. tortures him (losing his arm in the process) and just all around brainwashing to remind him that, hey, this is nikolai's fault. if he didn't run off, then they wouldn't have to do this. thus, the resentment brews and it all around turns to a hatred of him and everyone apart of the revolution. because, like, they were comfortable. they were happy and now he's not.
and because he's just a capitol kid and not important to the revolution (unlike peeta and the others), he doesn't get saved. (fully believe that yes, nikolai would push for it, but alas) so it just... continues. he becomes snow's pawn; the "anti-nikolai" basically. and even after they capture snow, he's not trusted. and it takes..... a long time before the brainwashing is even undone. even longer for people to trust him again.
#♕ ┊ v. thg ┊ ❛ and may the odds be ever in your favor ❜#i have many thoughts about vasily in this verse
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
@hoverboardhoodlums wants more thg pain
The journey back to his own zone is longer than anticipated, but Shadow is grateful for the wait. It gives him time to smooth Jet's feathers, to apologize to him in his own quiet way, and to think.
Unfortunately, thinking only gets him so far. He knows the moment that he steps off the ship and back onto familiar ground that he isn't prepared for whatever the Rogues' response will be. So he keeps his expression schooled into something solid as he carries Jet's body across the swath of grass to his waiting teammates. If they look, they might see the exhaustion there, the dimness hidden beneath his steady gaze, but Shadow doesn't expect them to. Not with Jet cradled in his arms. Dead.
He says nothing at first. What is there he could say? That he tried to keep him safe? That he hadn't stopped Marsha from killing him? That in the moment, in some fucked up way, it had seemed like the right choice? The only choice...?
Shadow doesn't know precisely why he hadn't stopped Marsha any more than he knows why he hadn't killed Yuna when he had the chance. But as he eases Jet gently down in front of Storm and Wave, he can't stop asking himself why he hadn't done something different.
"Jet fought bravely," is all Shadow can think to say. It feels... wrong. Practiced. Too stiff for a moment so fragile. "He sacrificed himself for the sake of another, in honor and dignity."
I'm sorry.
#hoverboardhoodlums#i look forward to the pain you're about to give me LOL#may the odds be ever in your favor [the hunger games verse];
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
!! wip whenever !!
i've been tagged by many folks these past few days, among them @inkoherentwriting, @stellarsightz and @v1ctory-or-sovngarde. as always, thank you for sharing your lovely wips with me!! i love being tagged. if i don't post a wip soon after i am, it's likely because i don't have one to share just yet. but today i do yippeeeee
(no-pressure) tagging @omkdear, @inkoherentwriting (since it's been a while), @bethrnoora, and @da3drat
here's a random text post i was writing that ended up turning into a ficlet. in it, gwilin recalls a weird friend he may or may not have had as a child. [on ao3]
_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–_–
There's a story Gwilin tells few, of a best friend he had when he was little. His name, he remembers, was Mals. Gwilin decided a long time ago that that must've been short for 'Malstar'.
Mals came sometime after the snow had thawed, when deathbell sprouts were breaking all through the ground and fungi tinted the air with the smell of fertile soil. They met at the end of a cloudy day, at dusk, as Gwilin paraded his boredom around the village stables.
"What's your name?"
"Gwilin!" Gwilin cried. He wasn't wary of strangers quite yet, nor did he find it odd that he'd been cooed at.
"No. The horse," replied the boy, and he pointed accordingly. Gwilin was a serial eavesdropper, and so was very well-versed in those matters reserved only for the most serious conversations amongst adults. Such as politics. He leapt at the chance to demonstrate.
"Ulfric Stormclock."
The boy's face had its doubts. "That's a long name," he replied, after a moment. He didn't know it was supposed to be 'cloak', either.
"All the best horses have long names."
"I'd make a bad horse, then," concluded the boy, as he rounded the beast. "Mals," he said simply, and the sliver of sleek, black hair moving into the fading rays of daylight drew Gwilin's eye, first. Then it was the boy's open arms.
A hug? thought Gwilin. Well, alright, he supposed. He looks clean enough.
They'd meet at the stables in the afternoons. Mals was never late. The few times Gwilin made it there before he did, he'd see him come out of the brush and catch how haphazardly he went about straightening his hair and wiping off his boots. He wondered how far he traveled each time he came. Asking him outright was never much help; Mals talked an awful lot like the priests at the temple did. 'Just down the road a ways', 'Close enough', 'Could be farther'...
A few weeks passed before Gwilin realized his friend never mentioned his family, even in passing. Or his other friends, if he had any. Such ties seemed foreign to him. When Mals spoke–and he often didn't–it was of far more unusual things. Where death came from, what fame is good for, what would happen when one kind of time gave way to another. And he spoke of these things as himself, in simple terms–in words Gwilin felt were meant for him to understand.
Sometimes he'd bring strange foods to share. Most were dainty, sweet things unlike any Gwilin had ever tasted. He remembered a crisp, mauve-colored wafer shell full of tangy, bright yellow paste had been a favorite of his. The day he tried to return the favor with some venison sandwiches, though, Mals turned him down. Meat made his stomach turn, he said. This saddened Gwilin.
He really liked meat. And he really liked Mals.
On a day, as he dug into a bowl of spiced nuts layered over dense, sugary cream and Mals counted the rings of a tree, there came a question. From Gwilin, as usual.
"Where are you from?"
"Why do you ask?" said Mals, after he finished counting. Gwilin put down the spoonful he'd brought to his lips. Mals had never responded to that question with anything other than a vague remark.
"You're my friend. I'd like to know," he shrugged. More clearly than anything else then, he remembers the sound of Mals running his hand over the bark of the log he'd been examining. A smile tugged at his lips, which the olive skin at his cheeks slowly gave way to.
"Do you know Craglorn?"
"You're Breton!" he blurted out. Gwilin had been pretty sure of it. Those ears were a dead giveaway.
"Yes. I am. But do you know Craglorn?"
"Yeah. Out by the Dragontails."
"Mhm. Everything moves slow out there. People, especially," Mals grunted out, as he lay down on the log. His head hung back off the edge of it. "This mage lived there once, you know. She was slower than anyone else. Even breathed slow. She liked writing and doing research in her room, all day and night."
"Was she a good mage?"
Mals took a moment to respond. "Paper is cheap in Craglorn. Easy to get, easy to use. And she had the woods close by if she needed souls for enchanting, so she could experiment all she liked. It doesn't really matter whether she was good or not."
"Oh. Sorry. I don't know a lot about magic..." was all Gwilin remembers saying. Mals laughed short and sweet, like a little bell, at that.
"Neither did she. But time did its work. It got to the point people would head to the inn she was staying at just to see her. Study her unconventional ways," he clarified, as he placed both arms below his head. "Thing is," he began, with pressed lips, "There wasn't anything that unconventional about what she knew. People didn't flock to the inn because she'd discovered something the mages from the city hadn't–they flocked to the inn because they didn't want to hear it from them. They wanted to hear it from an outsider."
Mals stopped then. Gwilin can only pretend to remember where those upside-down eyes looked to in that moment.
"No one wants to drink from the fountain," Mals whispered, almost to himself. "They'd rather find their own springs. Water tastes sweeter, that way."
"Which would you drink from?" asked Gwilin, thinking himself clever.
"Oh, the fountain. If enough people seek out a spring, it becomes one, anyway. Speaking of..." Mals pushed off the log and meandered over to Gwilin, gesturing for him to take his hand. He did, and he left the bowl containing his new favorite food behind so they could head to the river. That was usually how Mals signaled that he needed to head off soon. Though he never urged Gwilin to drink with him when they got there, he often did, if for no other reason than he felt weird standing on the riverbank waiting for his friend to have his fill.
This time, however, as he went to bring his cupped hand up to his mouth, Gwilin heard a splash. His head darted to the side, where he caught the sight of Mals floating weightlessly downstream. He recalls the panic that overtook him then, and the desperate leaps of his feet as they slid over and above the stones along the river bank, sweeping him ever-closer toward aiding his friend. But then he saw a slender arm calmly reach up to the sky. It waved. Panic was smothered by peace, and Gwilin stood still.
And he never saw Mals again.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR : THE HUNGER GAMES VERSE.
trigger warnings : parent death, abusive father.
name : stefan salvatore.
birthday: november 1st.
age: eighteen - twenty - four ( by mocking jay )
sexuality: bi-sexual. ( no preference )
location: panem, north america.
district: four.
mentor: finnick o'dair.
skills: fishing, swimming, knot tying, a bit of combat skills.
weapons: tridents & spears.
status: alive.
parents: lilian ( deceased ) & giuseppe salvatore.
siblings: damon salvatore.
heavily affiliated with : @heldsecrets & @crest4
face claim: alex fitzalan.
will update this verse once i rewatch the movies !
stefan was born eight years after his brother, damon. unfortunately, during childbirth, his mother was not strong enough & she passed away due to blood loss.
this left his dad & brother in not only shambles but they now had to raise a newborn by themselves. at only eight years old, damon had to practically be a second father to stefan. it put a lot of stress on their father, causing him to start drinking.
whenever giuseppe was around, stefan was quiet & usually tense. little unexpected things would set his father off, something as small as if a cup was left on a table, or shoes weren't placed right he would get violent, occasionally striking the younger salvatore. every time this went on, his father was always ninety percent drunk. his brother would sometimes walk in & interfere, only to get hit in replace of stefan. which of course, made him feel guilty.
when the sixty - ninth hunger games came around, stefan's name was drawn. he was seventeen at the time & while damon would've volunteered to replace him, he was too old to participate.
after the reaping, stefan met his mentor, finnick o'dair. finnick became someone very close to him, someone he trusted almost as much as he trusts his brother ( maybe more eventually ). while district four is known for fishing, finnick taught him how to skillfully use tridents & some combat skills. needless to say, he won his games.
after his games, he thought that would be the end of it, his dad was finally proud of something he'd done & he was getting praised as well as recognized. & then the events of the books happened & things took a turn for the worst.
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
PARDON ME but I would like to bring back this OC Dating Sim Game from FOREVER AGO and as about what Mister Eyes' route would be like? For no reason.
for no reason whatsoever you say? 👀 this is actually so funny to think about because like
to call it a romance route would be a misnomer LMAO Eyes doesn't really date. Eyes like,,, fucks. occasionally
HOWEVER
if he decides he trusts you, he will ride or die in a blaze of glory in the attempt. bro is LOYAL
what you get is basically the best friend you could ask for, with benefits if you want them. he wants them, and he might pester for them, but he won't overstep a Firm No
odds favor meeting him in Northside or at Totentanz, depending on what you're doing and why. there's rivals to besties across gang lines potential here, or the classic sighting of a new face across the bar
he will flirt with you, he just isn't looking for romance
to be his bestie during his Maelstrom era will yield you all kinds of perks. all the chrome and drugs your heart desires
he has influence✨️ he has intrigue✨️ he has a reputation that is terrifying✨️ but he's also a dork. he'll be a dork around you. the worst jokes you've ever heard
he'll also drive you up to the best view in the NID with a twac, a pack of cigarettes, and a new album to listen to. you'll halfway listen to the album and halfway have you obligatory monthly heart to heart
to be his bestie after Maelstrom has essentially no perks besides a clown who gives so many shits about everything you say. he may or may not be living on Vik's couch so you can come hang there and watch old boxing reruns for free
his life at that stage is in the gutter but he's still your guy. he's got your back at all times. he might even vote to make those month heart to hearts into bimonthly (twice monthly?) ones
there won't ever be any doubt that you matter to him. sometimes he'll show it through violence, sometimes through granting quiet amid the nonstop bustle of NC
he's also well versed in not being able, for whatever reason, to meaningfully talk and won't push when that's the case for you
take him out to the desert and watch him be gobsmacked by the natural beauty of the world. he'll associate that with you forever
maybe that's love. maybe it's even romantic love, to hear your laughter on the wind and see your face in the stars. he doesn't know and it doesn't much matter, this is enough. this is a privilege
opt in and all of this comes with fucking nasty as hell. this is important. like. mfmfmgnfmfnf the reviews are in and they're positively glowing iykwim
#des fascinates me#he'll commit hard and fast. he'll f-[gunshot]#hard and f-[GUNSHOT]#anyway#man oh man#got cp2077 verse bastra on my brain now too mmmmm#leocs#des 'eyes' gallagher#asks answered
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
The Hunger Games Doubles Welcomed (OcxCC) 🏹🏹🏹🥖🥖
I’m 18+ and all participants must be 18+
Okay so heya the names Kim I’m 21+. I rp only in third person and ask you do the same. I also am semi literate and love to oogle and talk about our ocs and their canon character partners. Hahah so if you like this then I’m your gal.
Anyways so the hunger games!!!! Who doesn’t love them! I love love the books and movies. I’ve read all the books and seen all the movies. Cannot wait for A Ballad Of Snakes and Songbirds. Anyways so I was thinking you’d play peeta for my oc who I will explain in a bit. I can play whoever you want since I am well versed in the hunger game world and love it
Now on to the idea. I was thinking forbidden love? What if my oc is the granddaughter of President Snow? And she interns as Peeta’s stylist assistant so that’s how they meet in the first games. If we have katniss in this great we can make an idea out of that. One idea for that plot would be what if my oc is the only person Peeta felt safe after being rescued by 13. What if she is the one who stops Peeta from killing Katniss? Now if Katniss isn’t in our rp then what if Peeta is the mockingjay! And what if instead of Peeta getting captured my oc does? Or or maybe a best friend of hers does?
All I’m saying are the possibilities are endless but i would love to stay true to the books and movies and whole theme of the series but at the same time adding our own twist. One thing I would change since there will be 18+ scenes that Peeta and my Oc be 18? So maybe he’s 18 when he’s chosen.
Anyways if your interested and would love to do it with me send me a dm saying a bit about yourself, your fav character, who’d you like me to play, any ideas you had and your favorite color so I know you read this and finally “May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor”
DM @kimm4710 if interested!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Operation Merthurt: Part 2
part 1
Merlin has magic. It makes a whole lot of sense when Malifer looks back on it, but now his plans are close to going up in flames. Malifer slumps on the castle wall thinking back to yesterday. He swore not to tell anyone, but this is a secret too big for Malifer to bear. He sighs and slumps further.
It doesn’t help that magic is still outlawed in Camelot which complicates everything. This is way above his pay grade. It’s here, slumped on a wall, that Sir Leon finds Malifer.
“What’s wrong?” Ever intuitive the great Sir Leon. He slides down to sit next to the deflated Malifer. “Is your nose bothering you?”
Malifer blinks. He totally forgot about his nose. He assumes that it must be a pale purple or blue by now but isn't sure. Mirrors aren’t exactly something Malifer can afford.
“It’s fine. Barely even noticed it until now.” He reaches to touch his nose. There’s still a slight sting, but it’s faint.
“That’s good.” Leon nods in a way that makes Malifer snort. He just looks so silly with his hair bobbing and some of it got in his face. Leon just stares dumbly which makes Malifer laugh even more. To anyone passing by, he's sure the pair of them look a little odd with Malifer laughing while Leon just stares blankly at him.
Malifer sobers up sometime later and leans back on the wall. That felt good.
“I’m glad to see you’ve cheered up.” Malifer looks back at Leon who is smiling again. Malifer doesn’t know how to answer that, so he just chuckles and hopes it doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels just now.
“Well, we all have our sad days.” He goes to ruffle his hair to distract himself from not staring at Leon. “Did you get anything from His Majesty?”
Leon takes the bait for what it is. “No, nothing new. Although, we still had our regularly scheduled Merthur stare.”
Malifer groans. “Did Gwaine get to you, too? I told him that name was idiotic, but somehow he’s gotten everyone else to continue saying it. I think mine is more creative. This is just a combination of their names stuck together.”
Leon chuckles and Malifer flushes. He didn’t mean to vent at him over something as trivial as that. It just...came out.
“I mean, I have nothing against Gwaine, really. He’s a great guy, really sweet and charming—”
“Charming?”
Malifer shuts his mouth. Why is that the word people focus on! He turns to look at Leon who’s frowning. Malifer coughs and brushes some of his hair out of the way.
“Charming as in likable, Sire. Anyway, I have a favor to ask you.” Malifer stands up. He doesn’t feel like sitting anymore.
“Could you—” Malifer frowns. How is he to ask this without it seeming suspicious. He swore to keep this a secret and though it’s a heavy secret, Malifer won’t break that trust.
“What’s your opinion on magic?”
“Magic?” Leon asks, brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Why not? I understand that it’s outlawed here but what’s your opinion?”
Leon crosses his arms, placing one hand under his chin. He stays like that, contemplating, for a while. Malifer now regrets asking. Leon’s a knight, someone whose job is to uphold the law whether it’s just or not. Malifer should know his answer.
And yet, he wanted to know. Leon, even as Malifer watched him from afar, was a knight with honor and a paragon of virtue and nobility. It irritated him, but he knew that Leon at his heart was a good man, but he is also a knight of Camelot, and its laws say magic is punishable by death.
“I’m...not well versed in any knowledge of magic. From my experience, it always wants to attack.” Malifer’s shoulders deflate. “But, sometimes...I feel like there are instances where we win against our enemies with more luck than skill.”
Malifer holds his breath. Though he only found out yesterday, he knows Leon is talking about Merlin. Leon may not know that, but Malifer does, and it makes his chest warm.
“Do you think it’s luck?” Malifer crouches down to Leon’s eye level. The knight turns to face him. His smile is sad, and Malifer’s heart breaks.
“Not for a long time.”
-
“Alright! New plan folks.”
Groans are sounded in the kitchen. It’s late. Malifer knows this, but he’s got work to do and needs the help of his colleagues.
“I know it has come to our attention that King Arthur is not courting. However, having Merlin know that His Majesty doesn’t plan on courting anyone is not enough!”
Nods follow, some continue to look confused, and others are trying their best to stay awake.
“Just this evening, I was informed, thanks to Sir Lancelot, that King Arthur has no idea that Merlin is into men.”
Gasp echo and murmuring follow after. Good, that could help him get some ideas.
“Is the king serious?”
“Does he not remember when Merlin was checking out all of his knights?”
“Our king is a fool!”
Malifer sighs. He agrees, but he can’t voice that, not yet.
“Alright, calm your tits. Now, I need ideas, people. We need to let His Majesty know that Merlin is not only into men but also available.”
That got them. Many ideas were given. Some very well thought out, and some:
“We could just tell him.”
“Are you out of your mind?!”
“That will make us suspicious!”
“Sounds like something Stephen would suggest.”
“That was one time!”
“Did you forget what subtly means?”
The man who gave the idea just rolled his eyes. “Listen, if he’s oblivious to Merlin checking out his knights, I think these others will just pass him by.”
Malifer frowned. The man was right even though his idea wasn’t really one he would do. The King wasn’t ready for some stranger to drop that bomb on him.
“Um, we could use one of the knights?” spoke a soft voice. Malifer scanned the crowd and found the voice. It was one of the laundry maids. Malifer doesn’t remember her name, but knows that she’s usually someone who keeps to herself.
“Explain.” He tells her, and she jumps. The maid goes to fiddle with her apron.
“Uh, I-I was, well...I was thinking, what if we had one of the knights talking to, um, talking to Merlin about men near Ar–I mean, King Arthur.” The maid brings her head down and continues to fiddle with her apron.
Malifer mulls over her idea. He can see the rest of the servants do that, too. It's not bad. Actually, it's great. It’s subtle in that it won’t look like it’s on purpose, but it’s not subtle enough to go over the King’s head.
“It’s brilliant! That’s perfect! And I’m sure we have the right knight in mind.”
The crowd of servants nod. Some whoop and holler, but it’s late enough that no one will come over (also, most of the guards know about the servants’ secret meeting and even have their own money in the betting pool).
-
Convincing Gwaine was a piece of cake. The minute Malifer’s plan was told to Gwaine he nodded excitedly and even picked up Malifer in excitement. Malifer knew he would be on board since he created a whole new name from Merlin and Arthur’s names (Malifer still thinks it sounds stupid, but it’s too late now).
The plan was simple: while the knights are training, Gwaine will go up to Merlin (who totally wasn’t watching Arthur as he trained the knights) and talk about his preferences in men, loud enough for Arthur to hear.
However, the plan did not involve dragging Malifer along for the ride.
“Gwaine! I don’t even go near the training grounds! How do you expect me to even be there without it looking suspicious?”
Gwaine only laughed as he continued to drag Malifer to the grounds. Malifer huffs, accepting that he’s not getting out of this anytime soon. At the grounds, Gwaine shouts Merlin’s name and the man turns around with an eyebrow raised, watching as Gwaine runs over tugging the poor servant in tow.
Malifer pants. He is never running with Gwaine ever again.
“Hey there, Merls! Did you come to watch the show?” He smiles as his impossibly white teeth shine in the sunlight (what the fu–).
“No, I came to watch you torment a poor servant across the field,” Merlin drawls. He looks over to Malifer huffing and puffing in pity.
“Gwaine causing you any trouble?”
Malifer huffs out a laugh. “When is he not?”
Merlin snorts. Gwaine only puts a hand over his heart. “Oh, how you wound a poor heart like mine!” Laughter ensues.
“If you are quite done, Gwaine, maybe then we can get training started.”
The trio look over and see the king with an unimpressed expression towards Gwaine. Malifer figures Gwaine’s antics must be something the king and the knights are used to since he can see them snickering behind. There, Malifer catches Leon’s eye. He waves at the knight, causing Leon to wave back with that soft smile of his.
“Now I see why Gwaine brought you along.” Malifer jumps, forgetting that Merlin was right next to him. He hastily brushes his trousers then fixes his hair while Merlin just smiles.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Merlin scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Besides,” Malifer smirks, “it’s not like you’re one to talk. I saw you drooling while the king was running drills earlier.”
Merlin sputters, and Malifer’s smirk grows wider. “I wasn’t–why would I even–He’s the king!”
Malifer hums, sits next to Merlin, and crosses his legs. “And what a lovely figure our king has, right?” He looked out in the field, nodding to prove his point, but he wasn’t looking at the king.
Merlin’s face reddens even more, but it seems that he’s got more fuel left in him to speak. “I-I, ugh fine yes. Arthur has a really nice...figure...and arms and thighs and—” He covers his face in his hands. Looks like he ran out. Malifer snorts at Merlin and faces back towards the knights training.
Merlin isn’t wrong. King Arthur looks gorgeous. With his sweaty hair swept back and that really sexy habit of twirling his sword. Malifer understands. It’s a wonder Merlin survived having to look at such a gorgeous face without combusting everyday.
“You are definitely a trooper, Merlin.”
Merlin huffs back in reply.
A couple minutes later, Merlin is back to his regular cheery self while checking out the king at the same time. Malifer would laugh, but he is also occupied with staring at another knight.
While he isn’t kingly gorgeous like Arthur, Sir Leon’s got his own attractive way of making onlookers gawk. For one, his scruffy beard. It’s different from Gwaine’s scruffiness which was more stubble than an actual beard. Also, Leon’s always looked more refined. Probably because he was a noble. His hair gleamed in the sun and he had this determination on his face that looked so knightley that you just had to see more.
Leon was sparring with Lancelot and Malifer couldn’t look away. His movements, meticulous as ever, were swift and precise. Lancelot blocked them all, but Malifer could still see the struggle between the two knights. While Lancelot attacked like his life depended on it, Leon went through like it was art.
“You’re drooling, Mal.” Startled, Malifer quickly wiped his face. When he feels nothing, he glares at Gwaine. Bastard.
“That wasn’t funny, you ass,” Malifer hisses.
Gwaine shrugs. “It was a little. Isn’t that right, Merlin?”
Merlin snorts. Malifer gives a dramatic wail.
“How could you? My own kin! This betrayal runs deep into my soul.”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “Get over yourself, drama queen.”
Malifer huffs while the traitorous duo snicker next to him. He didn’t sign up for this kind of bullying. He signed up to work in the kitchens and have fun with Charlie. Then Operation Merthur (Malifer swears he’ll get Gwaine back for this slander) happened, and now it seems like he’s been roped up in something he couldn’t even imagine being a part of.
“Although, speaking about drooling over men.”
Wonderful transition, Gwaine. Truly, he is one of the greats.
“Whatcha say, Merls? If you were to pick” ---Malifer can tell he’s gotten louder and can see the king subtly incline his head to their direction--- “who would it be, Me or Lancelot?”
Merlin hums and bows his head. “Is this from an objective perspective or like…”
Gwaine shakes his head. “More of...preference, you know? You’re into men, right Merls?”
Wow, way to be subtle, Gwaine. Malifer can see the king stiffen, and if he wasn’t watching His Royal Highness so closely, Malifer would’ve missed it. Gwaine’s grin is the same, but his eyes hide a glint of mischief.
Merlin blushes. “Well, yes, I am.”
Gwaine’s grin widens. Malifer watches as King Arthur fumbles with his sword. He can see the rest of the knights watching the king closely. Leon is the closest to him and glances between the king and where the trio resides. Malifer sees when it clicks for him, and smiles at Malifer who gives a thumbs up in response.
“Excellent! Now, Merlin, Lancelot or me.”
Merlin frowns. His eyes flicker from Gwaine to Lancelot then to Arthur. “I dunno, Gwaine. Both of you are fairly attractive. I can’t choose.” He smiles. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Gwaine shrugs it off. “That’s alright, Merlin. We all know no one can match the beauty of--”
“Alright, Gwaine! Quit dilly-dallying and stop bothering Merlin. Break’s over,” the king says flippantly. Gwaine sighs dramatically then turns to leave the servants alone. Not before doing one more theatrical farewell. He takes Malifer’s hand and kisses it softly. Malifer’s face runs hot.
“Until we see each other again!” He salutes smirk staying firmly on his face and runs toward the field. Malifer stumbles back to the bench while Merlin laughs.
“You should have seen your face! Gwaine’s quite a character isn’t he?” Merlin smiles while Malifer stares dumbly off into the distance.
“Yeah...you know, no one’s ever done that to me before. I can see why the ladies like him.”
Merlin snorts. “Best not to fall for him, though. Gwaine’s a bit of a player.”
Malifer gives a weak scoff.
“Don’t worry, Merlin. I’m not into players.”
Merlin nods. “You are most definitely right, Malifer. It’s not players like Gwaine.” Suddenly, Malifer didn’t like where this was going. “You like knights who are by the book...like say...Sir Leon?”
Malifer is going to strangle him.
-
A couple of days later finds Malifer with Sir Leon going through information they know and what the knight had discovered that day. They end it with a polite goodbye and a plan to meet up again tomorrow.
Fortunately, it seems that the plan with Gwaine worked extremely well. So well, that the king is seen to be more forward with his manservant. Giving him decent clothes, ordering extra food so he and Merlin can eat together, and some more that have run around the rumor mill. Frankly, Malifer feels pretty smug. It seems that almost everything is falling into place. Of course there’s one thing still left to do.
Merlin’s magic.
It’s not really the problem that he has magic. More of...he has never told a whole lot of people. The few being Gaius, Lancelot (honestly, Malifer can’t even be surprised, the two are pretty close), Gwen and himself. There’s also the problem of magic being illegal in Camelot, too.
Malifer does admit that this new information frustrates him. If Merlin didn’t have any magic, then he’s sure this operation would have been completed years prior. But, Merlin does, in fact, have magic, and it’s a part of him that Malifer cannot ignore if he wants these two idiots to get together.
Although, this does explain why it has been taking the two so long to even progress. Merlin had been keeping a lot of secrets from the king, and even if he did confess his feelings, the relationship may not even last that long. What with Merlin still hiding his magic and Arthur probably feeling like Merlin still doesn’t trust him. The relationship would fall apart, and Malifer can’t have that. He has worked too hard for all of this to blow up in his face.
So, first things first. Malifer has to find a way to get rid of that law. To do that, Malifer needs to find out the king’s real opinions about magic. Of course Malifer can’t ask him, but he thinks he knows a knight who can.
-
“Think you can do it?”
Lancelot furrows his brows, his chin perched on top of his hands. Some moments later, he lifts his head and nods. Relief courses through Malifer. He knew Lancelot would say yes, but waiting as he considers it can make anyone second guess their assumptions.
“Are you positive this will work?” Malifer frowns. He wasn’t expecting that question.
“Yes, I could be wrong, but this is the only one that I see making sense. You ask the king, and if he seems uncertain, exploit it and convince him that magic is merely a tool for the user or even…even that it is closer to how we view nature. Once the law is down, Merlin doesn’t have to live in fear or hide who he really is.”
Lancelot looks the servant down even though he’s sitting. Finally, he sighs and gets out of his chair. He looks Malifer dead in the eye and gives over his hand.
“Then you have a deal.”
They shake on it.
-
Everyday, Malifer and Charlie eat their lunch on a forgotten step in the courtyard. Most servants eat in the kitchen or in their quarters, but Malifer and Charlie already work in the kitchens. Eating in the courtyard always felt better than the stuffy kitchens anyway. The fresh air, the sound of people coming in and out. It was nice.
“Do you ever think that you’re in over your head?”
Malifer looks over at Charlie. His friend is looking towards the sky, his food forgotten.
“What do you mean?”
Charlie looks over at Malifer. He motions to the courtyard around them, busy as always. Malifer can faintly hear birds singing above.
“This whole operation, involving the knights, Merlin’s surrogate father. Doesn’t it feel like we're closing in on where things get a little overwhelming? I mean, it started off from a joke and now it’s become...this!”
Malifer listens quietly and ponders. Yeah, Charlie was just joking, but who would’ve thought he was right?
“I feel like we're losing the reins to this operation a little bit, you know?” Charlie continues, “It feels like there are so many things to keep track of, and you’ve got that weird deal with Lancelot—I’m not even gonna bother to ask.” He sighs.
“Don’t you think we’ve gone too far?”
Malifer stares at his best friend. He smiles. “Actually, we haven’t gone far enough. Those four years of us speculating, that was nothing compared to this. We have only begun, and I don’t plan on stopping until it’s finished.”
-
The next day, Malifer met Leon at their usual spot. It started off as it always did. Leon would ask about Malifer’s day. The servant would ask the same thing back then they would delve into the actual reason on why they met up.
“Arthur’s been asking me about magic.” Leon mentions an hour in. Malifer pauses and looks over at the knight. He wants to be subtle and ask more, but worried if that might reveal that Malifer knew more than he led on.
“Why does he ask?”
Leon shrugs and scratches his beard. “He asks me if the law is going too far.”
Malifer feels faint. Is it really that close to being undone? He takes a deep breath.
“What did you say?” Malifer gently goes to grab Leon’s hand. His excuse is to comfort Leon who looks exhausted, but he doesn’t mind if it also covers his trembling hand. Leon sucks in a breath and looks down at Malifer.
“I said, ‘there should never be a law that allows the innocents to die’” Malifer tightens his grip. “I said that as a knight it is my duty to uphold the law no matter what, and that it is the king’s duty to see to it that all of his people are taken care of.”
“That was pretty bold of you to say to your king.” Malifer brings Leon’s hand closer to his and fiddles with it, just to distract him. Leon hums and allows Malifer to interlock their fingers.
“Yes, but Arthur wasn’t asking as a king. He was asking as a friend.”
“Do you think you helped?”
“Only if Arthur listens to me.”
-
Lancelot comes to him later. Malifer has a feeling of what will be enclosed to him, but it’s always good to see all of the cards another even though he might know most. Lancelot isn’t tense so that’s good news. He’s not relatively happy, so bad news could be coming. The knight could just be fooling him. Lancelot was always good at hiding his emotions for stuff like this.
For a while he doesn’t say anything. He just fidgets in his seat. Malifer taps his foot and crosses his arms, waiting.
“Well?”
Lancelot clears his throat. “So, I asked Arthur about his opinion on magic and he seemed kind of standoffish at first, but my guess is that he was trying to avoid the topic. Anyway, he lets it slip that he doesn’t think all magic is inherently evil. He just hasn’t had a lot of examples.” Lancelot pauses and fidgets in his seat. “I thought that would be a good time to mention magic to be seen as a tool. I noticed it did get him thinking. Unfortunately, that was all I could get from him, but he doesn’t seem abhorrent to it.”
Malifer nods along. It does seem that Lancelot got the king to think and after that encounter with Leon, Malifer thinks this might work. He then tells Lancelot about what Leon told him. The knight also agrees that this could lead to the king lifting the ban on magic. Malifer leaves sometime after feeling a little lighter in his steps.
-
It’s here that Malifer runs into Leon again. Thankfully, without actually crashing into him. Malifer learned his lesson the first time.
“Leon! Hey, what are you doing here?” Leon really is tall. Malifer knows he’s not short, but when compared to the knight, Malifer only reached Leon’s chin. Usually, this bothered Malifer, but today he was in high spirits. He even felt a little braver.
“Just doing my rounds. Well, I actually finished them—”
“Great! Do you want to walk with me?” The minute he asked, all of Malifer’s bravery vanished. Oh gods, what has he done. He was so caught up on the hope of the magic ban being lifted that he forgot that this is Leon! The knight who is always by the book. Loyal to the crown, and definitely not into servants who play matchmaker for their own amusement.
It was fine when he got teased because he knew it was harmless even if his heart flipped or fluttered whenever the knight's name was mentioned. He knew it was all a fantasy. Just a silly crush because knights like Leon aren’t into servants like—
“Okay.”
Malifer blinked. “Okay?”
Leon shrugged. “I’ll walk with you.”
Malifer stays frozen as Leon turns around to face the hallway ahead of them and outstretches his hand. The servant looks down at it, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. Malifer then looks up to Leon as he smiles expectantly.
“Coming?”
Malifer grabs his hand, their fingers intertwined as they set off to wander around the castle.
-
A week later, the magic ban was lifted. Malifer missed the announcement since he was stuck in the kitchens, but Charlie made sure to tell him everything. What are best friends for?
Charlie flaps his arms around Malifer while telling him the news. “The law is gone! Like completely gone! He mentioned that he is done with continuing to reign while hurting innocent subjects who shouldn’t have to hide who they are. Can you imagine...Magic back in Camelot!”
Malifer chuckles at Charlie. He’s finished his job by now and is just drying himself off. “That will definitely be something to look forward to. And it was that easy?”
Charlie scoffs. “Even I could tell that some nobles still didn’t agree, but of course at this point it’s too late to argue with the king. The minute he announced it there was an uproar, and I have never seen one so bad as the time when Molly and Annie fought over who was the better type for Merlin.” Malifer winces at the memory. Both maids had reasoned that either Lancelot or Gwaine were possible options for Merlin and it lead to a schism between the castle servant on who would best fit. Their late night meetings got so bad that if it wasn’t for Cook, Malifer thinks fists would have been flying and there would have been a brawl. Charlie nods to Malifer’s reaction.
“Yeah, it was bad. That is until Sir Leon spoke up about the magic users being as much a subject of Camelot as anyone else. It was something. No wonder you like him so much.”
Malifer snaps his neck to Charlie looking smug (the fucker) while leaning on the sink. He’s fighting to keep his face a healthy color but he knows that he’s losing.
“I don’t–It’s not–ugh!” Charlie snickers. “You’re an ass!”
“But a lovable one, right?” Charlie asks innocently, his face leans close to Malifer’s. An inch closer, and he’ll be tempted to punch him.
“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” Malifer yelps and turns to see the mentioned knight at the kitchen’s entrance.
“Leon! Gods, no, Charlie was just being an ass as usual.” Malifer fixes his clothes then his hair. Why did Leon come here now? He’s all sweaty and gross with his clothes still wet from washing dishes and cooking utensils. Malifer coughs. “What are you doing here?”
Leon clears his throat. “I just thought I would share some news that happened moments ago.” The knight shuffles his feet and looks anywhere but the two servants.
“Oh, well you don’t need to worry. Charlie told me about the ban on magic being lifted.”
Leon blinked (he does that a lot doesn’t he?). “Oh, he did? Good then.” The silence that followed was deafening. Malifer was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
“Right, um, is that all?” Malifer winces after saying that. It sounds so...final. Like he wants Leon to leave.
Leon’s shoulders sag as he sighs, shaking his head. “I guess so.” He turns to leave. “I’ll see you later?”
Malifer can’t breathe. Leon looks so...sad. But why? There’s this hopeful glimmer in the knight’s eyes that Malifer wishes he could keep with him forever. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s just been staring at the knight. He needs to answer him. Leon wants to see him again, right? That’s why he asked.
Malifer smiles softly at Leon. “Yeah, see you later.”
Once Leon disappears from view, Malifer slumps onto the table and sighs. Charlie stares wide eyed at what he just witnessed. His glance from the entrance to Malifer and then back to the entrance. Charlie blows out a hard sigh and looks back at his friend.
“You are so fucked, dude.”
“Shut. Up!”
-
News of lifting the magic ban spreads fast. By lunch, everyone knows and won’t stop talking about it. Malifer finds Merlin while on his way back to the kitchens and notices the manservant skipping his way around the castle.
“Merlin!” Malifer runs to catch up to him. Merlin greets Malifer with a blinding smile (the sun had no competition). “I’m guessing you heard.”
Merlin nods. His head bobbing frantically and his smile never wavering. It makes Alifer’s own heart soften. Merlin always was a favorite for the rest of the servants. Especially when he told off the king that first time when he was still a prince. It’s one of the reasons why it was so easy for everyone to band together and get those two idiots to confess.
Seeing Merlin smile like this makes Malifer want to scrunch up his cheeks like some of the old maids do everytime Malifer greets one of them. (“Oh what a polite little gentleman!” “Look at him! So young and yet so kind!” “Please, my cheeks- I can't feel them anymore!” “Oh what a charmer!”).
“Magic is legal,” Merlin whispers. The man giggles and claps his hands. Malifer thinks this is the only time he’s ever seen Merlin so happy. The thought hurts to know, but he squashes it because this is the time to celebrate.
“You don’t have to hide it from the king anymore,” Malifer whispers back. Merlin can be free from hiding himself. Merlin can confess to the king without the paranoia of accidentally letting it slip that he possesses magic. Merlin can finally be happy.
Malifer knows he started this plan as a selfish way to get them together, but if this is what it gives to Merlin, Malifer doesn’t care if his plan fails. Failure or not, Merlin won’t have to hide himself anymore.
Merlin blinks at Malifer. He sees the slow realization fall onto the manservant. A quiet “oh” is mumbled as Merlin looks at the floor with heavy consideration. Merlin nods and looks down to Malifer (they're close to the same height, Malifer would have argued).
“I can tell Arthur...I can...HOLY SHIT!”
-
There’s a feast made to celebrate the ban being lifted. Both Malifer and Charlie are able to join since none of them are stuck in the kitchens tonight. The feast is lively with minstrels playing festive tunes and bards singing about some adventure the King and his knight went on. People dance and clap, and Malifer is having the time of his life.
He bumps into Merlin from time to time and spies him and the king doing their usual thing. Always lost in their own world. Malifer also catches Leon’s eyes but they’re brief and sudden. No matter, it still makes Malifer’s chest flutter.
Sometime near midnight (Malifer doesn’t actually know that’s just his guess), he spies Merlin whispering something in the king’s ear. He sees the king frown and nod at Merlin. Then the king stands up, says something about retiring, but to please indulge themselves as the night is still young. He leaves with Merlin in tow looking rather nervous.
Malifer may have had too much to drink, but he’s not stupid. He knows what this is. This. Is his moment of truth, and Malifer is not missing it for the world. He stumbles to where the king and manservant went, but trips on something. His body is caught before it lands on the stone, cold floor. Malifer looks to the strong arm holding him. It’s metal.
“Careful there, Malifer,” Leon says to him. Malifer feels his insides melt. He must’ve drunk a lot if just hearing Leon speak is enough to make him melt into a puddle.
“Ah, my knight in shining armor,” he giggles, “you’ve come at last!”
Malifer lets Leon straighten him up. His arm stays on Malifer’s waist. He doesn’t mind, though. Malifer feels suddenly giddy, like he could take on the world. He moves closer to the knight and wraps his arms around Leon’s shoulders feeling content. Leon coughs.
“So, where were you going?”
Excellent question. Where was Malifer going? Frankly, Malifer doesn’t feel like going anywhere right now, but he was going somewhere. Think Malifer! He was enjoying the party, Merlin said something to the king, the king left with Merlin—
“Merlin! Leon, we must go!”
“Go?”
“Yes, we must! Or we will miss it!”
“Miss what?”
Malifer tugs Leon’s arm. The knight, though confused, let the servant drag him out of the party to wherever Malifer last saw the couple.
“Come on, Leon! We’ll miss it! I need to see, I need to,” Malifer hisses.
“Malifer, I have no idea what—”
“Come on, Merlin. I know you didn’t lead me here for nothing.” Leon hushes up and helps Malifer look around the corner. On the other side is Merlin and the king. Malifer praises the gods on their side. He didn’t miss it!
Merlin shuffles his feet and bites his lip. Malifer holds his breath. This is it. Please don’t blow up in his face.
“Merlin,” The king says softly (Malifer has never heard this tone of voice from the king before. It surprised him.), “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Sire! It’s just...well there’s something I need to tell you. Something, something I’ve been wanting to tell you for years. And after today, well, I feel more confident in telling you.
The king is silent, hanging on every word. Malifer can’t blame him because he’s doing the same. Merlin takes a deep breath and looks at him. His eyes are determined even if Malifer knows how terrified Merlin feels.
“Arthur...I have magic.” Malifer feels a gust of wind blow past him but he ignores it. Merlin told the king.
“I’ve...always had it. I was born with it. It’s a part of who I am and...I’m so sorry for not telling you. I care about you a lot. I never wanted to put you in the position to choose either me or your kingdom because I know how much you love Camelot and” --Merlin’s voice cracks-- “and I could never, never make you choose. I...I love you too much for that.”
Malifer’s breath catches. Did he just...sweet holy fucking shit Merlin confessed. He sniffs, it startles Malifer who realizes that he’s crying. Malifer wipes his eyes and looks back to the scene. Merlin is crying too. Hiccups and sniffles. The King is stunned. It looks as though his shocked expression will stay like that, but he finally softens.
“You love me?” And he asks it so gently that if Leon wasn’t holding him steady, Malifer would have collapsed.
Merlin huffs and gives a wet chuckle. “Are you really focusing on that, you prat? I literally just admitted to having magic, and you’re more concerned that I said I love you?”
“Well, do you?”
Merlin’s breath hitches. “What?”
“Do you love me?” The king smiles at Merlin, and Malifer is overwhelmed with the amount of emotion reflected off of them. Merlin giggles and shakes his head.
“You’re such a clotpole you know that?” Merlin sighs and looks at the king with such adoring eyes. It’s enough to make Malifer feel like he’s intruding, but he must watch it. “Yes, I love you Arthur Pendragon.”
King Arthur smiles, takes Merlin’s hand, kisses it, and says: “And I love you.”
-
“Alright, so that’s fifty gold for Mary, seventeen for Stephen, and...a hundred and fifty for Gaius.” Malifer closes the betting pool book as chaos ensues.
“Are you fucking kidding me!”
“That’s not fair! He knew Merlin had magic!”
“Yeah, how were we supposed to know that Merlin had magic?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“SHUT UP, STEPHEN!”
Malifer sighs. Four years of his life, dedicated to getting Merthur together finished. He feels satisfied, but also a little empty. What does he do now? Sure, he’ll still work in the kitchens with Charlie, but that’s work. This operation had taken up so much of his time that now he feels a little lost.
Although, thanks to the operation, the servants have a better system on how to spread rumors and gossip. Before, it was just word of mouth to whoever listened. Now, they had people in the castle designated as the informer from each worker. Malifer finds it a little funny, but it was super helpful when it came to discussing how to get the couple together.
Said couple are now in a happy relationship. They still give each other those long stares, but it’s no longer an unsaid thing (thank the fucking stars). Malifer is quite proud of himself, knowing that their new relationship status is no thanks to him.
As Malifer exits the kitchens, he runs into Leon. Literally.
“Leon!”
“Hello, Malifer,” he says, then looks over to the kitchen.
“What were you up to?”
Malifer grins and shows Leon the coins. “Oh just collecting my winnings. I bet eighty on Merlin and King Arthur getting together after the magic ban.”
Leon laughs at that. “Isn’t that cheating, though? That was your plan.”
“It’s not like the other servants didn’t cheat either! I know for a fact that George got that substitute job just to make Merlin more jealous. I had to give him ten of my gold for that.” Malifer sniffs indignantly. “There was also Gwen who-”
“Do you want to walk around?” Malifer pauses. Leon, now looking sheepish, averts his gaze and coughs. “You can continue on about other servants meddling while we walk.”
Malifer grins. “Of course. Now, as I was saying, don’t ever be fooled by Gwen's niceties. She can be very cunning in her own way. It’s actually kind of terrifying.”
Leon chuckles. “Really?”
Malifer rolls his eyes. “We may just be servants, but we do have a mean streak.”
“So I’ve seen.” He says with that smile of his. Malifer can feel his cheeks heating up. Honestly, he needs to get it together!
They eventually end up at the servants’ quarters and Malifer yawns. It really is late, and he’s probably keeping Leon from his duties.
“I should probably turn in for the night. It was nice walking with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” Malifer’s brain short-circuits for a brief second. Leon meant the walk. Solely the walk. Yep. Only that. Malifer laughs and hopes the knight can’t see him panicking.
“Well, see you soon.”
“Until tomorrow.” Leon takes Malifer’s hand in his and brings it to his lips. “Goodnight, Malifer.”
“G-goodnight!” Malifer hurries inside the quarters and shuts the door. It is taking all of his willpower not to scream. Leon kissed his hand. His hand! Malifer brings his hand up to his chest and smiles. He knows he looks dopey, but he can’t help it.
“Until tomorrow.”
#reposting my old stuff#merthur#the servants control the romantic happenings in this castle#and mayhaps....fall in love?#sir leon x oc#rated teen for language#fic one out of......many to repost is complete#fluff#only fluff#no angst today#merlin magic reveal#bbc merlin
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
the last thing valor wants is to make friends. not when he has to kill them all anyway. dark hues fixate on the female tribute as she arrives for the tribute parade, created to show off this year's candidates to the capitol. one would remain after the games and he was going to make sure it's him. the reaping ceremony was only a day ago and the reality of valor being a tribute contesting for the win is something he's still processing. the stylized look of what had to be this year's most attractive tribute distracts him from this reality in a way that he's thankful of. "my oh my — the capitol is gonna love you." a faint smile decorated his otherwise darkened features, yet valor is every bit sure that he wasn't coming across as friendly as he hoped to achieve. "we haven't formally met." he spoke, reaching out his hand towards her without breaking eye contact. "valor chalice, district two."
#silvrmoon#⟨ ♦ | valor chalice — dialogues ⟩#⟨ ♦ | may the odds be ever in your favor — verse ⟩#⟨ ♦ | closed ⟩
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sweet Revelation: The Chapter of Handing Heart.
A page specifically curated for my one and only sweet lover, written personally, may it be tenderly delivered and long reign on one's soul.
Portrait de la jeune fille en feu (2019), dir. Cèline
Sciamma.
One: Of My Past Mingled with The Dear Topic of Future.
I always thought that life is full of clashing misfits, where the dream-like concept of utopia bards love to sing on their sonnets is only to ever be found in tales my mother will tell me at winter nights. The type of snow that sinks cold into bones, the type that kills inside heated homes. Yes, as the violent breeze was blowing windowsills open with no mercy spared, nested under bundles of warm bedcovers, is me with my mug of distilled cocoa clutched tight. I will whisper to myself, “don't be afraid,” and sometimes the fear will depart, sometimes it will linger. Never missed was how, with chivalry of enough wills, I was trying to conquer and get a hold of myself. I think I have always known of woes as any child around my age know and will learn how to ride their bike upon the hills, of trying to keep the ebbs and flows stable so they don't trip over having to come home with their knees bruised and their face sour, I grew up peppered and armored with a heavy compassion belonging to the streets. It is hard to imagine that the variable X and Y of my own favor to ever reside together, of the odds contradicting for they are constantly breathing on the sequence of vast distinctions. Not enough luck, not the right timing, not deserving, not around my capability. One thing I have learned is to always settle less and be content with every each of that extra deficiency, to make peace with my own disappointment from the lack of whats and the more, sometimes too much, of what ifs.
Until there was you, Rafli. You teached me how to breathe, how to take a rest from running lapses and lapses to no end, you connected the X and Y of my strayed variables until it became a dot that turned the mere flicker into a burning fire. And it won't cease, nor will it dim, despite the given hypothetical that the fire faced one hassle: a creek of undammed water trying to extinguish it off. Julia Cortázar once wrote that you could not really pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. I agree with her, because this love is the kind of love you did not expect, but when it is there you can't help but realize that everything you've ever needed is at last delivered to you. Sort of a gift, you did not ask for it, but you own it nicely that it would be rude to ever take it back. Love really transforms us no matter how long and fearful we are when we hold it reckless in our trembling hands. By its verse love is letting me fall like dew drops resting heavily on a pasture, dampening everything. In your embrace I feel safe, understood, like when I shouted at the edge of a steep barren the echoes reach someone down there and they replied, “I am here!”, I know that I am not alone, taking that sigh of relief. The urge to stay alive is flowing in my veins, becoming soulmates with the iron in my blood of red crimson. I am now alive and is no longer only pieces of rotting flesh and cells. To live and to show how I love you, knot in my heart. I love you, hands on my hands, hands on my ribs, mouth on my mouth. I love you, stone in my shoe. I love only you. Only you. Only ever you.
Two: The Idea of Future
I am writing this as I think of you, not that I have always been thinking of you, but I don't want to leave out this detail without emphasizing it. I am thinking of a new world where there are only the two of us. Not quite figuratively, but a lense derived from the fondness that we have for each other, so much that it blurs anything and everything around us. We will have a small house that always smells like freshly baked sweets and breads, creaky wooden blinds just how I like it, at the side of a fresh-water lake, or it could be Seine. Putting your hands in mine as we look into the reflections topped with glistening surface being hit by sunrays; as long as it takes until we turned into little fish and recognize each other again. And we lay down ourselves with our backs ticklish from the piercing blades of grass, hearts pounding with cacophony of outburst, both of our cheeks flushed red and it won't take long for the two phantoms to find each other's lips. You might peel me and my heart as if I was a tangerine, or a taffy candy, as it is meant for sweets to be eaten, you did, your skin touching my skin. The motes of dust won't hinder us, nor the cicadas songs flexing their tymbals, nor the creaking noises of only God-knows-what heard from detritus, for it is really love and desire that turns our eyes blind. Mayhaps thirstiness, I know that I long for you. We are both mad and made for each other.
I want to do so many things with you. I want to share you my favorite breads at the station as we wait for our train ride, aimlessly going towards nowhere yet we've never been this sure. Then we think of the way the phrase 'in love' is pretty, how it sounds like love is a place where you can live in and stay. I am in Love. We are in Love. Love with a capital L, for we've made up our mind and we have decided a destination, not a detour, and our train is now buzzing fast to reach it. We fall asleep as the fleeting thoughts of daydream are making us happy, what making us happier is that even those dreamy fragments are never a far-cry from reality. Metaphoric clock ticked, screaming kettle inside our warm dwelling, I turned the stove off to pour both of us our favorite chamomile tea into the intricate cups carved fancily and imprints of our traces will eventually merge as one.
Three: The Unspoken
You have arrived at the last chapter of this page! Right, after you have put yourself through vessels of emotions this one is for the closure and to put a light end. Or a dot to stop the sentence, for ‘end’ somehow implies the existence of leaving. I won't, though. I wish I have showed enough how happy I am through everything that I have written. I am happy. I am more than *happy* to yet again welcome our one special day, meskipun it is not debatable that each languid day rolling into the next with you will feel just as exciting. Sooo.. Rafli, thank you so much for everything you have done for me ya. For all the good memories, the effort, the laughters, semuanya bener-bener aku cherish seberapa sering pun I tell you about this. For trusting me and for always trying your best, for appreciating me and seeing me in such high regards, for making me feel like I am mattered; even though love and the worthiness of the object is never really what matters. I love being with you, I love falling in love with you, I love spending my time to be around you. I actually like everything about you. I like the way you call me your post anything about me on your channel, like it when you say that you miss me at the time I was away, like the way you are that attentive, like the way how clumsy you can get. I like you when you tell any story about your daily life, like it when you are sad and when you are happy. I like you setiap saat.
Setiap hari I unravel yet another layers about you yang undoubtedly made me fall in love again and again. Bisa ditambahin to the things that I like about you; that I like your hair, I like the way your lips are curving upwards forming a sweet smile, your eyes and its lashes, its color, its marble. Speaking of the bitter, of course there are times when I wasn't so sure of the situation, but you proved yourself of your love each day. That you are here to stay and I can count on you and your words. That I know, seperti the title of this page, I can hand you my raw beating heart knowing best that you will take care of it. A series of wishes are to be spoken in hushes and whispers, one thing that will not change is how I wish for us to stay this way for a long, long time.
A kiss to your heart,
N.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mondo Wows With SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE Prints by Matt Taylor & Murugiah
Mondo:
ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE is one of Mondo’s most anticipated movies of 2023, and it’s not hard to see why. From the incredible voice cast to the mind-altering animation, SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE forever redefined the possibilities of the multiverse as we know it.
This week, we’re proud to unveil three new posters commemorating Miles Morales’ first feature film. Two of the most exciting and visually explosive artists we know taking on SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE? Alright, we’ll do it one last time.
All three posters are essentially multiverses to themselves, with Murugiah’s kaleidoscopic psychedelia and Matt Taylor’s kinetic maximalism on full display. And we’re excited to offer the regular edition of Matt’s poster as a Timed Edition … something we aim to do more regularly based on feedback from readers like you!
These screenprints will be available March 16 at 11AM CT only on The Drop at mondoshop.com. Matt’s Timed Edition is available until March 20 at 11:59AM CT, while the other two posters will be Limited Editions.
These are gorgeous prints.
The timed edition of Matt Taylor’s print (at the top of this post) will run you $60, while the variant (just above this line), limited to 325 copies will be $85.
The Murugiah print, which is just wild (above) is limited to 265 copies, and costs $65.
May the Mondo odds be ever in your favor.
0 notes
Note
Silver gives him a small hug, (i had to. the hunger games destroyed me too)
As any of Shadow's friends might attest, Shadow is not one for physical affection. He shies away from it, or bars it altogether, warning off anyone who tries with the kind of glare that could kill. Those who understand him least may write it off as rude, or some attempt to retain his "mysterious, tough guy persona", but those who understand him best know that it's neither rudeness nor posturing. Shadow is hardly that juvenile. The real answer is much simpler: to distance is to protect oneself. And what else is surviving but protecting?
Except this time (just this once), Shadow doesn't reject Silver. He accepts the hug with stoic stillness, and wonders Next time, will it be you...?
Slowly, Shadow's arms find their way around Silver.
No, he promises himself. No. Not again.
Never again.
#foretoldwings#i am dead goodbye goodbye#thank you silver#may the odds be ever in your favor [the hunger games verse];
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Characters: Maley featuring the rest of the Crane siblings.
Description: Maley watches the ending of the 74th hunger games with her family in the Capital. It leads to her watching the death of her boyfriend, Cato.
N.S.FT / T.W : Bloo.d, vio.lence, ad.ult them.es only mentioned.
Verse: May the odds be ever in your favor.
Side notes: The Cranes are District two Victors [other than Luna & Jason]. Maley won the previous year. Maley and Cato had a relationship before he left. It clearly wasn’t the healthiest. The feelings were still real even if some of them were shitty. Her siblings fucking hated him.
It was down to just five in the arena before she slept. As she woke up, it was down to four. A scream from the other room, it was Hans calling her into the next room. Maley watched from the luxury of capital with the rest of her family. They weren’t cheering or betting on someone. But they were watching for one person. Cato.
Clove’s death brought a shock to them all. All Maley could think was she was glad it wasn’t Luna in there. Her siblings were all on the couch. Victor at the back of it. Black hair was in front of Victor’s face, he was too focused to push it out of the way. His elbows were rested on the couch. All eyes glued on the television.
Maley couldn’t stomach seeing how confident Cato was in the arena. His relationship with the careers made sense for him to do for his safety. But, nothing could possibly explain his actions. The dogs came and they had to witness Thresh’s death. Her face cringed as she watched, looking away. All the rest of her family was doing so as well. Creating some sort of conversation to ignore what was happening in real time.
Maley looked back to the screen.
The dogs came in. Cato was attacked. Maley moved from the back of the couch to in front of the television.
She could hear everyone else behind her stand up. Her chest was rising. It mattered what Cato did and they would never be the same after he came home. But, that didn’t mean she wanted to watch him die. None of these people on here deserved to die.
Go on! Shoot, and we both go down and you win. Go on. I'm dead anyway. I always was, right? I couldn't tell that until now. It’s what she’s always told him. Maley’s eyes were welted. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Then, it all happened so quickly. His hand was shot. Peeta Mellark threw him down. Now he was becoming a meal for the dogs.
“NO!” Maley screamed, dropping to her knees. She didn’t need to look what was happening next. Her chest felt like it was sinking. “No, no, no!” Her loud got visibly louder when she heard it. The canon. Victor came up next to her on the ground.
“I know, Maley. I know.” Victor wrapped his arms around her. You couldn’t hear the television over Maley’s sobs. They were ready to hear the winners. And there is was.
There has been a change of rules. Quiet in the room again other than Maley’s breathing. Katniss got out the berries, they were both about to take it. Everyone except for Victor and Maley were standing up out of their seats.
No! No! Wait! We would like to introduce the winners of the 74th annual hunger games. Cassandra scoffed, sitting down in surprise yet impressed. Shaun and Hans both sat down, looking back to Maley. Michael came on the other side of her.
“They did it,” Victor muttered, rubbing his sister’s arm.
“They finally out smarted the game.” Cassandra said sadly. She would’ve clapped if it didn’t mean Cato had to die.
Michael never liked Cato. But, that didn’t mean he deserved to die. “Come on. Let’s head back to District two.” Michael and Victor helped her up. Luna ran start to her sister and hugged her tightly.
“No,” Cassandra paused, “we can’t go until the celebration is over..” It was the blunt truth.
“I’m not going.” Luna spoke up. “Not if Maley isn’t going.”
“It doesn’t work like that, sadly,” Victor replied back and looking at his other brothers, “I kow this is a lot. But.. we’re gonna have to mourn later. We need to find Haymitch.” The brothers nodded. It was time to leave. They’d at least make an appearance for the rest of them.
“Cato knew in the end.” Cassandra spoke up when the boys left the room. “You heard him. He died with pride.”
“Yeah,” Maley spoke up, “but the odds were clearly not in Cato’s favor.”
#( drabbles ; )#( drabbles ; maley )#( verse ; may the odds be in your favor )#[ the fact this girl does the quarter quell with them and does everything to protect p.eeta & kat.niss ]#[ even forms some sort of relationship ]#[ asldkfjs;df ]#( headcanons ; may the odds be in your favor )
1 note
·
View note
Text
May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor
reaped at the age of 16, echo represented district 9 as the female tribute in the 64th annual hunger games. from the district of grain and salt, she was gifted a glamorized version of white face paint to wear into the arena -- a ‘tribute’ to the thick salt crust often left abrading at the skin of the miners who spent all day digging and hydro-fracking salt from underneath the great lakes to send back to the capitol. it can still be seen today incorporated into many of her fancy capitol-designed looks, as well as in the dolls made in her image and carried by many of the capitol’s children.
her initial reaping received little attention. with few tributes from her district making it past the initial blood bath, it wasn’t until echo survived her first few days in the decrepit urban arena that she drew any attention. with a combination of stealth and ruthless brutality when confronted, she managed to let the first rush of tributes take care of each other, relying on her experiences with the elements, with the cold, to keep her alive when other tributes suffered. as the days wore on and the number of surviving tributes dwindled down -- leaving echo mostly among careers with years of experience on her -- her desperation turned to ingenuity. using the urban atmosphere and limited water supply to her advantage, echo snuck out at the crack of dawn, when the careers were drawn to the new cache of weapons left by the game makers at the cornucopia, and poisoned the well.
with just enough clean water for herself to wait out the deaths of the powerhouse fighters, echo took out the last of the tributes two days later with a screwdriver. using their own delirious, dehydrated states against them, she made herself the 64th victor of the hunger games.
since her victory, echo has played the part of a well-mannered victor. gracious in public, a favored guest in the capitol. but spending nights with the capitol’s elite and listening to their stories while they gorge themselves on wine for over a decade has only made her more dangerous. now, she works to bring inside information to serve the rebellion. when the time is right, she’ll make her move.
#v | may the odds be ever in the your favor ( thg au )#this is why i never have verse info#asdjfklsjd;lfa#i write 85 pages for no reason a;lksjdfklas
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
➠ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 – @galaeus
↳ what the fuck are you wearing? (hunger games au)
Negan made a show of rolling his eyes as his gaze shifted, looking from her to upwards where he could make out the edge of the slanted gaudy gold fixture atop his head. It spoke for itself -- or so he thought.
“You fucking blind or something? It’s a crown,” He explains, his attention more focused on the flaming spirit in his hand. There was still jubilance in the heart of the Capitol for him a full year after he emerged blood-soaked and victorious from the arena, the head of his fellow District One tribute volleyed across the terrain in a triumphant display of callous celebration that gained him the worst kind of admirers Panem had to offer.
( Alliances were temporary, but a memorable death lived forever. If he hadn’t been destined for the win, he would have wanted something similar. )
His first foray into mentorship was going exactly as he expected it, monotony that numbed the mind with silver bellied promise of monetary gain that made it less bleak.
That was only if the under the table bets he made on the games’ outcome came to fruition.
All that stood between him and the devil’s fortune that was heading his way was the one tribute he couldn’t say for certain would fall in the arena.
“You’ve still not told me the game plan for when you get in there,” He remarks with renewed interest as he walked around her in a shark-ish circle, his index finger tapping on the clear glass of the Capitol grade substance he had yet to consume.
“No real point in keeping your cards from me, I’m not the one who’ll be looking to skin you alive once the first cannon fires. That’s going to be all Cadmus.”
━━ 💀 ┊LONG SHOT SENTENCE STARTERS.
#Galaeus#i. negan / ˹ echo. ˼#i. verse / ˹ may the odds be ever in your favor. ˼#i. excuse the shit out of my goddamn french / ˹ answered meme. ˼#tw gore#long post cw
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
edwinter00
EdWinter
gianl2496-blog
Lost Words
tenkigumi
tenkigumi
punkinspice
hopeful artist
imogenevarose-blog
Crossroads