Haymitch leans with his hands braced on the cool iron railing, watching the geese peck at the grass and occasionally each other on the lawn below. That grass is getting long, he thinks. Maybe I should introduce a couple of goats to the damn geese. The geese could eat the bugs, or at least peck them to death, while the goats ate the grass.
He stiffens at the first touch of her hands at his waist, but then he relaxes and leans back against her, bare shoulders to bare breasts. Her soft lips graze the back of his neck just before she nips at the spot where neck turns to shoulder. How the fuck did I ever get this lucky? He doesn't ask the question aloud and Johanna's hands clasp together across his stomach. They stand for a moment that way, just existing, before she breaks the silence
( ... )
a THG drabble starring ButtercupsabaceanbabeOctober 16 2013, 21:05:38 UTC
For days everything burned and he stayed hidden in a hole in the ground. It had belonged to something large and strong smelling before, but now it was his. At least until it felt safe for him to leave it.
When the heat and the smoke grew less, he was hungry and thirsty enough to emerge from his hole. The wind blew the stench of charred everything toward him and he hissed, his fur standing on end, his tail three times its normal size. He ran away from the stench and the hole and from his own fear. He ran toward the scent of water, avoiding the spots along his route that were still too hot for the tender pads of his paws.
It was near the stream, after he'd lapped at the cool water until he could drink no more, that he smelled something comforting. The scent was on the rocks and the dirt. His two legger. He sniffed at the rocks again. His two legger and the Hunter.
With a soft mewling sound, the orange cat set off at a run to find his two legger. His two legger was his home.
Okay, so "soon" was a bit of exaggeration, apparently. Oy. Anyway, here's a bit of Brutus for you. I hope you like it.
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The debate had gone on since President Snow announced the terms of the Quarter Quell. Would District 2 trust to the luck of the reaping ball? Would they send a volunteer? If a volunteer, would the Center allow any of the district’s eleven victors to volunteer for the privilege? Or would they preselect those volunteers?
Brutus dropped the bright white paper to his kitchen table; it slid for a few inches before coming to a stop against his salt and pepper shakers. Without looking at it again, he turned and walked away.
After lengthy consideration, the Center has selected you to volunteer as the male tribute to the Hunger Games’ Third Quarter Quell. Your unique combination of skills and your current circumstances…There was more, but he hadn’t read it. Justification for the Center’s decision was irrelevant. They had chosen him for their own reasons, had decided that he could
( ... )
yessss I will accept pretty much every headcanon/exploration for Brutus and the 3QQ that is not LLOLOLOLOL BACK TO THE KILLING YEAHHHHHH :D :D :D so yeah, ow ow ow owwwwwww
(ha ha ha I love HGs where this is a treat BECAUSE IT IS BUT OWWWWWW)
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He stiffens at the first touch of her hands at his waist, but then he relaxes and leans back against her, bare shoulders to bare breasts. Her soft lips graze the back of his neck just before she nips at the spot where neck turns to shoulder. How the fuck did I ever get this lucky? He doesn't ask the question aloud and Johanna's hands clasp together across his stomach. They stand for a moment that way, just existing, before she breaks the silence ( ... )
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The fear they both have of rejection and of not measuring up comes across really clearly here.
Seriously...I'd hug them but they'd get upset. ;)
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( ... )
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When the heat and the smoke grew less, he was hungry and thirsty enough to emerge from his hole. The wind blew the stench of charred everything toward him and he hissed, his fur standing on end, his tail three times its normal size. He ran away from the stench and the hole and from his own fear. He ran toward the scent of water, avoiding the spots along his route that were still too hot for the tender pads of his paws.
It was near the stream, after he'd lapped at the cool water until he could drink no more, that he smelled something comforting. The scent was on the rocks and the dirt. His two legger. He sniffed at the rocks again. His two legger and the Hunter.
With a soft mewling sound, the orange cat set off at a run to find his two legger. His two legger was his home.
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And he reminds me of your pets. Aww. I want to hug him but he'd never allow it, only from Prim.
Thank you!
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I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)
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(Sleepy Hollow, BSG, Hunger Games, Veronica Mars)
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( ... )
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Trick or treat! :D HGs unless you're sick of it, otherwise.... question mark? OUAT? Stargate?
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I should probably give strong consideration to changing that, since I'm not really even in the BSG fandom anymore.
Back soon with a treat. :D
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=============================
The debate had gone on since President Snow announced the terms of the Quarter Quell. Would District 2 trust to the luck of the reaping ball? Would they send a volunteer? If a volunteer, would the Center allow any of the district’s eleven victors to volunteer for the privilege? Or would they preselect those volunteers?
Brutus dropped the bright white paper to his kitchen table; it slid for a few inches before coming to a stop against his salt and pepper shakers. Without looking at it again, he turned and walked away.
After lengthy consideration, the Center has selected you to volunteer as the male tribute to the Hunger Games’ Third Quarter Quell. Your unique combination of skills and your current circumstances…There was more, but he hadn’t read it. Justification for the Center’s decision was irrelevant. They had chosen him for their own reasons, had decided that he could ( ... )
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yessss I will accept pretty much every headcanon/exploration for Brutus and the 3QQ that is not LLOLOLOLOL BACK TO THE KILLING YEAHHHHHH :D :D :D so yeah, ow ow ow owwwwwww
(ha ha ha I love HGs where this is a treat BECAUSE IT IS BUT OWWWWWW)
(ILU)
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