Hunger Games + Book Moments

“They’re playing with you because you’re so … you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he’s talking about.

“It’s like when you wouldn’t look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You’re so … pure,” he says finally.

“I am not!” I say. “I’ve been practically ripping your clothes off every time there’s been a camera for the last year!”

“Yeah, but … I mean, for the Capitol, you’re pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you’re perfect.”


I felt the crumble before he did.
A wave of satisfying completion
that left me finding the words
in the darkness we created—
I found it first.

The shadows casted on the walls
surrounded us in a puppet show
stretched out of proportion. The
nails on a window scratched and
groaned; birch branches waved 
back when I failed to do so.

He found his voice before I did.
Pulled the cocoon of blankets
off our backs, and shoved them
further down the bed. Ghosts
of what we’d come to know
danced and fizzled out before
greeting the playful shade.

I didn’t recall the gray around
his eyes, nor the tall tell sign of
different blankets in a different bed
on a different night with a different …
But as simple as the night on his
skin or the draping of false comfort,
the words were found in the dark
and our so called fortress
had fallen.

HUEN002 - Mollified - 1982Brat

Our second relase is actually titled after a relatively unremarkable pickup truck from Subaru. Couldn’t believe it when Mollified submitted it like that. Here’s a short interview with Cassidy H Kane on the subject.

CassidyHKane: So was it like your first car or something? An old jalopy pickup truck your father gave you for your 18th birthday?

Mollified: Dude no, I never even seen one live, in the flesh, or rather in the chassis right, you have to remember I grew up in Milan, not Dayton Ohio, no offense, but I don’t think this kind of car was ever really around in Italy.

CHK: This is weird then, because let me tell you, as a fantasy supercar it’s not like, I mean it’s not like Kavinsky and the Testarossa right? That’s kind of aspirational, Jordan Belfort and the white Ferrari from Miami Vice, that’s the kind of reference that evokes a whole vibe. The Subaru Brat, eh, not so much.

Mollified: Oh but I had the model from Tamiya. Really shitty RC model.

CHK: Still kind of begs the question why though? Couldn’t you have picked up some cooler model, like a dune buggy type of offroad deal with flames decals?

Mollified: Listen, it went down like this. I was like 8, 9 years old, I wanted a popular Nikko RC model car but it was too expensive, or sold out everywhere I think, so my father took me to this really well regarded model toy shop downtown. And it was heaven, they had tamiya models of every conceivable vehicle in existance, and I think then and there I thought, screw RC cars, let me have that model TANK, or that model US NAVY BATTLESHIP. But my dad, always the voice of reason, told me no, I’m not gonna buy you a model with 7000 tiny plastic parts that eventually I’ll have to glue up for you once you start crying, life is too short for that shit. Take one of those cars and let’s go back home.So, enraged, I picked the shittiest one I could find, thinking hey, that’ll show him, but you know, that only showed me since i got stuck with that thing for years while all the other kids laughed at me.

CHK: Great story, you were a little douchey kid. still not sure how any of this has even anything about to do with the music, your music?

Mollified: Look that wasn’t a great car right? So I think, something had to be great about it right? And I bet it was the tape player. It was a japanese car, I’m sure it had an amazing chunky tape player with solid switches that would cla-clunk when pressing rewind or eject. It has to. Don’t ruin my fantasy.

CHK: I think i’ve actually been on a BRAT once, you know, in rural Ohio where *I* grew up, I think I won’t spoil it for you, sometimes it’s better to face reality sooner rather than later, sometimes it’s not.

Mollified: Thanks man.

Mollified on his most trusted piece of gear: EHX bass big muff Pi 

I end up using this on every bass sound. It’s good on my bass guitar, it’s great on synths if you just take care with the gain.

Depending on the source, attenuating the level is somehow necessary to maintain dynamics and avoid turning everything into a wall of mush.

Here’s my actual settings for the ending of Sizzle Jar

The distorted track is layered with the original sub bass from my microkorg

The Highest Bidder

Summary: Maurice sells Belle to the highest bidder. Rumplestiltskin brings gold, but not because he’s looking for a maid.  Nothing goes as he expected, of course.  A gift for the lovely @takethatbembridgescholars from the prompt “Maurice sells Belle to Rumple”

A note to my awesome giftee: thank you so much for the prompt!  This was more fun than I ever expected it to be.

Read it on AO3 | FFN

The first time Belle did magic, she was thirteen years old.  She’d been climbing a tree, and a branch fell out from under her.  But she’d climbed too high, and the fall broke both of her legs, bringing her mother and all of her attendants running.  But Belle’s legs straightened back out almost right away, and her screams turned to confused looks.  Lady Colette bundled her daughter off straight away, and tried to keep the news quiet, but of course Sir Maurice found out.  His wife was able to mollify his dislike and distrust of magic, and it worked fairly well…until the ogres came.  

Belle’s magic had been mostly under control until then, escaping in small ways, but it didn’t do anything that couldn’t be explained away with a little creativity.  Colette was good at that, but once Belle’s wild magic reached out and forced the ogres back from their lands, it was impossible to hide her any longer.  Most of the people in the Marchlands rejoiced; they were safe, even if their neighbors were not.  But then, most of them blamed Sir Gaston for earning the ogres’ ire in the first place, because everyone knew the story of what had brought the ogres to their kingdom. Belle’s magic, however, had saved them, and the people of the Marchlands celebrated.

Sir Maurice, however, was not so comfortable.  On one hand, he had his wife telling him that Belle was a good girl, and that they’d get her every book on magic that they could and make sure she learned to use her magic safely.  On the other, however, lay the Holy Order of Clerics, who whispered and warned that Belle was dangerous.  Young women who gained magic always turned to evil, they claimed, providing the examples of Princess Cora, Queen Regina, Maleficent, and dozens of others.  

“We can take her in, keep her safe,” Bishop Chesson told Maurice for the hundredth time.

“Absolutely not.”  Colette disliked speaking over her husband, but she knew that Maurice wasn’t thinking straight about this situation.  “I have heard rather…concerning things about what happens within your Monastery.”

Bishop Chesson drew himself up, huffing irritably. “All base rumors, My Lady.”


Keep reading

too much

If the rain before the red sun allows it,
I’d melt with you into the river as you let
purple petals mollify the storm into a shower.
I’d smear war paint on your sunrise-inked cheeks,
force a blade into your pretty white palms so they can’t force nails into them,
and conceal another one into the unconscious curve of your lips.
Because you have to fit into the crevices and shadows of the world.
The world never fits to you.
Because you have to answer to skyfall,
or it will pierce right through your crystalline eyes.

But you won’t.
Which is why you are untouchable even when the Sun exhales
its dying wish
and slumbers no longer in its fiery paradise,
even when the blue skies in yours have sunken into gravestones,
you are what spring is made of.
You are life after death,
too much for this world,
so you are paradise itself.

In the Dark of the Knight

“Now aren’t you talented~? Well, for a mortal at least~” Salem purred as she rested on her throne, dark eyes watching with glee as the blonde knight she had kidnapped continued to thrust his cock into her with reckless abandon. It had been suprisingly easy to steal the boy away in the dead of night and bring him back to her domain. And when the boy had awoken to find himself in a hellish landscape with a demonic woman claiming to be the Queen of all Grimm demanding that he have sex with her? It wasn’t hard to see why he had thought he was still dreaming, not that Salem had any inclination of telling him otherwise, so long as he kept fucking her like he was.

“Such a good boy~” The patronizing edge to the pale woman’s words was mollified slightly by the lust burning in her red eyes, Salem beginning to fidget despite herself as the knight’s suprisingly-large cock continued to repeatedly bury itself in her tight cunt, his cockhead kissing the entrance to her womb with each thrust. Long, pale legs wrapping around the groaning boy’s waist and pulling him closer, the Grimm Queen gave a toothy grin as she noticed how the blonde’s body was starting to tense up more and more. Suprised to find her own body doing the same, Salem didn’t hold herself back from letting out a long, guttural moan when Jaune finally came, especially since she did as well not a moment after.

The feeling of the blonde’s warm cum completely flooding her womb was indescribable, the sheer heat causing the pale woman to let out an almost drunken purr as the boy’s cock continued to twich inside her, shooting load after sticky load deep into her inner sanctum. So much was the boy’s output that, after a few seconds, some of the thick spunk started to overflow out of her thoroughly-used cunt, the white liquid splattering onto the ground as Salem’s pussy was completely filled with the blonde’s potent semen.

Not even minding when Jaune fell bonelessly on top of her, Salem merely hummed contently to herself, one pale hand coming up to lightly brush through the boy’s hair as she felt his warm cum slosh around inside her. Feeling rather warm and utterly satisfied after accomplishing her mission, the Grimm Queen silently leaned back in her throne, quickly dozing off with a devilishly-satisfied, if somewhat softer than normal, smile.

Head laying on the soft breasts of the Grimm Queen, Jaune quickly joined her in the land of Morpheus, the blonde boy none the wiser to the sheer amount of potent seed he had left sitting in Salem’s fertile womb.

Dreams sweet like honeyed sunshine
and lavender near sickly,
mollified in loving sleepiness.

Heady wakefulness in cold desert nights,
deserted and you and you have drained me,
evidence in wet sunken cheeks–
this is my heart in the floorboards buried in empty sweet nothings.

Maybe I’ll sleep again for distance
if you won’t seethe in your remorse.
Time-stopped winter deems my heart unbreakable,
and not in vain will I find solace in self-made solitude.

–For @wolfsmilk