from such great heights, ( 1 / 3 ) | caesar flickerman | pg-13 | in show business, we say ‘break a leg.’
Finnick strikes before the show. Lurid and shiny white, his grin defies his stoic gaze, silver and serene; a new composure with the Quarter Quell. He steps in front of Caesar just outside his dressing room.
“I just wanted to tell you,” Finnick says, “good luck.” He is handsome and glossy as always, his slick smile a flood of sensory memories, hard hands and smooth skin and Snow’s paper money, crisp. Finnick’s smile says a lot of things. One of them: I carry secrets, Flickerman. Some of them are yours.
Caesar’s grin is just as bright -- bared teeth and heightened eyes. Brighter than Finnick’s, even. He’s been here longer, learned better.
“In show business,” he replies, cheekbones taut and the lines of his forehead high and tight, “we say, ‘break a leg.“Ah,” Finnick whispers, “I’m afraid I could never say that.” He levels with Caesar, eyes bared straight on his gaze and shoulders squared. “After all, you never know what kind of
( ... )
Johanna is backstage with her narrowed eyes aflame when Caesar and Finnick wander back.
“What’s he doing here?” she snaps to Finnick when her eyes connect with Caesar, travel up and down his form in barely-concealed revulsion.
Finnick laughs -- “He works here, Jo. Remember?” She glowers.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Mason,” Caesar leers. “And what a gorgeous dress you’re wearing.”
“Yeah,” she answers, “and it’s sharp enough to poke your fucking eyes out.”
Caesar tuts. “Now, now,” he reprimands. “What will the Capitol audience think of language like that?”
“Who gives a fuck?” she snarls, the collar of her dress brushing against her jutting chin, sharp, sinister, and tall. “What matters is what they think in the Districts.” She steps toward him, can’t help a savage smirk. “I hear they’re just dying for material in Six
( ... )
Comments 324
i could kiss you until i drew blood he says
Reply
the boys who won't love me just won't love me
Reply
i loved you for all of a split second once
Reply
Finnick strikes before the show. Lurid and shiny white, his grin defies his stoic gaze, silver and serene; a new composure with the Quarter Quell. He steps in front of Caesar just outside his dressing room.
“I just wanted to tell you,” Finnick says, “good luck.” He is handsome and glossy as always, his slick smile a flood of sensory memories, hard hands and smooth skin and Snow’s paper money, crisp. Finnick’s smile says a lot of things. One of them: I carry secrets, Flickerman. Some of them are yours.
Caesar’s grin is just as bright -- bared teeth and heightened eyes. Brighter than Finnick’s, even. He’s been here longer, learned better.
“In show business,” he replies, cheekbones taut and the lines of his forehead high and tight, “we say, ‘break a leg.“Ah,” Finnick whispers, “I’m afraid I could never say that.” He levels with Caesar, eyes bared straight on his gaze and shoulders squared. “After all, you never know what kind of ( ... )
Reply
Johanna is backstage with her narrowed eyes aflame when Caesar and Finnick wander back.
“What’s he doing here?” she snaps to Finnick when her eyes connect with Caesar, travel up and down his form in barely-concealed revulsion.
Finnick laughs -- “He works here, Jo. Remember?” She glowers.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Mason,” Caesar leers. “And what a gorgeous dress you’re wearing.”
“Yeah,” she answers, “and it’s sharp enough to poke your fucking eyes out.”
Caesar tuts. “Now, now,” he reprimands. “What will the Capitol audience think of language like that?”
“Who gives a fuck?” she snarls, the collar of her dress brushing against her jutting chin, sharp, sinister, and tall. “What matters is what they think in the Districts.” She steps toward him, can’t help a savage smirk. “I hear they’re just dying for material in Six ( ... )
Reply
Reply
everything that kills me makes me feel alive
Reply
Reply
we are all searching
for someone who's demons
play well with ours
Reply
Leave a comment