my imagination lied to me

Photography pick-up lines that Max has or would totally use on Chloe

 As a photographer, I can picture me and you together.

Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.

Let’s get together for a horizontal composition.

Come back to my place and I’ll let you pop my flash.

I have to check if my camera is on auto focus because you are making everything else out-of-focus.

Was your daddy Ansel Adams? Because you’re a natural beauty

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words but there are no words for a picture as beautiful as you.

Since I don’t think I’ll finish this proper, I figured I could put up the sketch. 

Zhurrick Childhood AU tho.

4

As we approach what used to be the grand entrance, Gale points out something and the whole party slows down. I don’t know what the problem is at first and then I see the ground strewn with fresh pink and red roses. “Don’t touch them!” I yell. “They’re for me!”

The sickeningly sweet smell hits my nose, and my heart begins to hammer against my chest. So I didn’t imagine it. The rose on my dresser. Before me lies Snow’s second delivery. Long-stemmed pink and red beauties, the very flowers that decorated the set where Peeta and I performed our post-victory interview. Flowers not meant for one, but for a pair of lovers.

I explain to the others as best I can. Upon inspection, they appear to be harmless, if genetically enhanced, flowers. Two dozen roses. Slightly wilted. Most likely dropped after the last bombing. A crew in special suits collects them and carts them away. I feel certain they will find nothing extraordinary in them, though. Snow knows exactly what he’s doing to me. It’s like having Cinna beaten to a pulp while I watch from my tribute tube. Designed to unhinge me.

No one will fully understand — how it’s not just a flower, not even just President Snow’s flower, but a promise of revenge — because no one else sat in the study with him when he threatened me before the Victory Tour. Positioned on my dresser, that white-as-snow rose is a personal message to me. It speaks of unfinished business. It whispers, “I can find you. I can read you. Perhaps I am watching you now.”