Mar 24, 2023
M’LADY 🤨🏳️🌈❓
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M’LADY 🤨🏳️🌈❓
She hates it when I sing but apparently really wants to sing a duet with @jamesonmoss. #jannie #annison
💌 Annison
[ Sending a love letter ] from some ask meme from 60 million years ago
Dear Harrison,
I hope work is going well for you, that you’re getting lots of hours and a decent amount of sleep. Don’t forget to eat, and a very annoying boyfriend once told me that vending machine snacks don’t count!
Hogwarts is the same as it always is, which is both comforting and disappointing. I get more features this year, which is exciting, and one of the new Ravenclaw chasers already hexed your replacement because she thought he slept with her boyfriend. As I’m sure you can imagine, I had a hard time figuring out where to even start with all that juiciness ;) Fun fact: I think he actually did it. She was so forthcoming and angry and yet I got almost nothing from him. Extremely suspicious if you ask me. That won’t make it into my piece of course; I have no proof and speculative gossip has no place in my articles, but I thought it might make you laugh.
I miss you terribly. And if I’m being completely honest, I sort of hate you for that. I was doing just fine in my own little bubble, and then you came along and you ruined it with romantic words and kind gestures and sweet kisses and now even when I’m in the news office, I feel like something’s missing because I know you won’t pop in randomly to pester me while I’m trying to work. And I actually miss that! How crazy have I gotten? I miss how you talk while I’m working, and how you taught me how to multi-task in order to pay attention to you and my work both. I miss —our— your apartment and I miss those deliciously comfortable sheets you told me we needed (you were right, I wish I had a set for my bed here) and how you always made sure to pick up coffee and the tea I like when you stop for groceries. I just, I miss you, and while this year is proving to be fruitful already, there’s a part of me that can’t wait for the holiday so I can see you again.
Sincerely,Annabelle
💔 (whoever you like)
There are more coming but this was the first random number I got:
Birthday Drabble #1
Annison Birthday drabble @lafayettewrites
Parents meme for Lucas and Circe and whoever else you fancy
4 days, not too bad for my procrastining self. This was way too much fun negl
Lucas/Circe
Who’s the one to wake up the kids: Circe, I imagine she'd get the house running in the morning so Lucas wouldn't have to do much.
Who makes breakfast: Circe
Who’s the more discipline parent and who’s the more lenient one: Lucas would probably have to be more disciplinarian, because Circe would default to his rules and judgements for a long while (if not the entirety of their raising kids together)
Who helps with the science fair: I see Lucas is that weird? I just had this adorable image of Circe bringing dinner to the living room and setting the plates on the ground because Lucas and their child (Katie I presume) are on the floor working diligently on her project to make sure it's the best ever.
Who does baby talk: I see both honestly, but preferably when no one could hear them.
Who wakes up for midnight feedings: Circe would assume it would be her and thus would go almost every time unless he actually stopped her.
Who’s the one who always worries: CIRCE. And a little Lucas, he strikes me as a fretter on occasion. But Circe worries about eeeeeeeverything.
Who picks up the kids early from school for some fun: … neither? Lucas? Niamh help!
Who’s the competitive parent: Lucas on the surface, but Circe gets viciously competitive in defense of her family.
Who kisses the ouches: Both.
Who’s the sucker for the puppy eyes: Both again, but more Lucas I'd say? Circe's so used to manipulating she probably can resist the eyes for a while.
Who makes the “dad jokes”: Ben (totally went there)
Who embarrasses their kid for fun: Neither
Who’s the over protective one: Both for different occasions
Who’s the “take a sweater!” parent: Circe and on occasion Lucas
Annison
Who’s the one to wake up the kids: I imagine it's whoever manages to physically boot the other from the bed first haha
Who makes breakfast: Harrison unless he wants the kitchen burned down or like, microwave breakfasts.
Who’s the more discipline parent and who’s the more lenient one: Annabelle's the disciplinarian, but I have a feeling Harrison can put his foot down when he wants to.
Who helps with the science fair: Annabelle and WE WILL DESTROY YOUR COMPETITION
Who does baby talk: Harrison
Who wakes up for midnight feedings: See Answer 1
Who’s the one who always worries: Both fret lightly but also both likely trust they've raised an intelligent enough child that they don't have TOO much to worry about.
Who picks up the kids early from school for some fun: Harrison
Who’s the competitive parent: Annabelle and some Harrison but poor man's probably preoccupied keeping Annabelle from fighting the other parents.
Who kisses the ouches: Harrison, Annabelle will only concede if there's MAJOR tears and Harrison is not nearby
Who’s the sucker for the puppy eyes: Harrison? I imagine he can hold his own pretty well, but Annabelle is so not amused by puppy eyes.
Who makes the “dad jokes”: Both
Who embarrasses their kid for fun: For fun? Neither. But Annabelle is probably THAT embarrassing parent that's always too loud and too into their kids' activities and too everything.
Who’s the over protective one: Both.
Who’s the “take a sweater!” parent: Annabelle as she throws it at their face to emphasize her instruction
Ben/Sage (god this'll be a mess hahahah but I had to idk why)
Who’s the one to wake up the kids: Sage (probably by leaping onto their bed yelling "IT'S MORNING TIME TO GET UP THERE'S SCHOOL TO BE HAD" )
Who makes breakfast: Both or Sage. She's rather pleased with her cooking skills (and it's mostly edible!) (she's getting better)
Who’s the more discipline parent and who’s the more lenient one: Depends on the situation. I can see both being easygoing about some things and hardcore about others.
Who helps with the science fair: Both
Who does baby talk: Sage (possibly Ben)
Who wakes up for midnight feedings: Depending on how tired she was, Sage would either leap up to do it happily, or sleepily and violently (as violent as one can be while half asleep) kick at Ben until he either fell off the bed or just got up.
Who’s the one who always worries: Sage (that surprised me but she's apparently a fretter)
Who picks up the kids early from school for some fun: Both but mostly Sage
Who’s the competitive parent: BOTH
Who kisses the ouches: Both
Who’s the sucker for the puppy eyes: Sage for suuuuuure
Who makes the “dad jokes”: Both hahaha
Who embarrasses their kid for fun: Both again hahahah
Who’s the over protective one: I'd say same as the discipline question, depends on the situation, both have potential.
Who’s the “take a sweater!” parent: Sage
Christmas Presents V 2.0
@lafayettewrites
@lafayettewrites For youuu
Harrison Tate.
The name hadn't meant much to her when it had been called in front of the hundreds crowded together in his District. It hadn't meant much when the camera had zoomed in on his face, surprise and worry etched into his features. He'd looked for someone, someone over on the girls' side, but the camera hadn't panned over. If it was someone important, they'd save that intense moment- especially if whoever it was made eye contact with him at that moment too- for the game itself, to draw that tear-jerker reaction from the audience.
It's what she would have done.
But that too hadn't mattered. The only reason she even watched the Reapings was to put to mind names and faces of the years' tributes. Better to stalk them and question them and figure them out later if she could spot them in crowds. Over the last couple years of apprenticing under her mentor at the paper she'd mastered the art of slipping through crowds, of catching the tributes at just the right- or better, wrong- moment, of squeezing every last drop of interesting material from them in matters of moments, usually all she had before they were whisked away again. And she approached that much like the rest of the Capital; as a game. The Hunger Games were games, the tributes mere pawns, the deaths nothing more than entertainment the like you got from a movie, a disconnected sort of fun for the citizens of the Capital. Only Annabelle ever bothered to dig deeper, to write the pieces detailing the lives of the lost ones, the pieces people tried to overlook but found themselves engrossed in despite themselves, found themselves crying over children they'd cheered on to die.
It was funny how quickly things could change.
She should have been kicked off the paper, or not allowed to write at all, for the things she wrote. She was too young, too troublesome, too rebellious and too eager to draw reactions from people be they good or bad. But her secret weapon was also her most spoken about weapon; her sleuthing.
She had blackmail on anyone and everyone worth knowing, including her own mentor who ended up taking the heat for her pieces while she skipped happily out into the sunset. And she used that blackmail cheerily, and ever to her advantage. And she planned to use that now. She stalked into the Gamemaker's room, the core of the Games, where they decided who lived and who died.
And she'd let them keep thinking they had choices this game if that made them happy.
She didn't make eye contact with the nondescript girl on the side of the room. She was positioned where they created the elemental forces of the games; she couldn't have asked for better positioning for her spy. Her own little hole in the boat that was a smoothly run Game. The girl had been sloppy, got caught with her hand in a bloody sort of cookie jar when she'd tripped a friend at a party. The other girl had gone tumbling down the stairs, hit her head at the bottom, and died after a few hours of a coma.
And all because one girl wanted to be the only one prancing down the stairs.
No one had seen the subtle trip, no one suspected anything, no calls of foul, no charges were accused. No one bothered. No one save Annabelle. Though it had happened almost two years ago, anyone in power in the Capital wouldn't take kindly to it's residents killing each other, however accidentally. Annabelle knew, and the girl knew. And Annabelle's silence had come at a hefty price:
help me rig the Hunger Games.
Things changed so rapidly, it was hard to keep up. You blinked, you felt, you opened yourself to the unexpected and suddenly everything was different.
She was allowed in the Game room for the same reason she was allowed to do anything: she knew things. She knew the current Gamemaker was sleeping with a well known news anchor... who was married to her co-anchor. Dirty laundry no one wanted getting out, and so she stood off to the side, watching the festivities as she had for the last three years. They were gearing up to start, and her eyes tracked the screen, for once not lingering on different tributes, taking in expressions and determination, instead scanning the crowd until her eyes were able to settle on a particular set of features.
Harrison looked dangerous. He looked just the edges of nervous, but determined, and his eyes tracked just as hers did, but where she was watching a screen, he was living it, where her eyes took in pixels, his took in weapons and distances.
Her plant wouldn't be able to do much here; he was on his own. The first hours of the Game were too publicized, too watched, too carefully examined by the President and his people to make sure everything was running smoothly. Once the first hours had passed, once it became about the tributes surviving and only occasionally having to bathe in blood, she'd be able to help, her plant would be able to prod him certain ways, would be able to reveal and hide and help with her elements under Annabelle's watchful eyes. He'd have to survive the Cornacopia on his own, but after that he'd have help from the Capital. Help that if anyone knew she was responsible for, she'd probably disappear in the dark of the night for, never to be heard from again.
It was funny how quickly things could change. And all for a boy.
Harrison Tate.