Notes:Kinky shit happening. Slight D/S undertones, kind of dubious consent, erotic asphyxiation, among others. Don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable with anything I’ve just listed. Otherwise, please enjoy^^
finally time to face the last one, the darkest and most cynical of the Sins.
You aren’t sure how well this will go, since you know that he’s the one who
holds the most grievances—that his power stems through the rest of the Seven.
You dare to
enter regardless, taking a deep breath as you approach a door that’s carved
with runes. The ancient language is littered all over the entrance,
incidentally drawn into concentric circles, as a protective measure. The rest
of the Sins don’t have protection like this, which is what makes him so much
more difficult to absolve.
your palm against the center of the circle, breathing slowly as the symbols
glow bright red for mere seconds, before the door swings open.
She is bowed lips and soft curves
I am pointed tongue and skin pressed taut to valleys and peaks,
Laved kisses and stifling breaths,
Sharp bites and soothing kisses
I am the devil, I am sin,
I am holy and whole in between her legs
Jumping pulses and hooded lids, I am what she was warned against,
The girl that will steal the keys from the stoop of her breasts, the catch between her thighs.
Characters: Sam, Dean, Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee, Y/N (no pairing)
Word count: 1,342
Warnings: none! :D
A/N: This was requested by @mikumaythebeast so hopefully I did alright! <3 If you’d like you can request things too! I hope you all enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! <3
It was your dream to visit Washington D.C.. You never visited the nation’s capital before. Today was your lucky day. After a twenty hour drive, the three of you arrived in D.C.. Dean and Sam knew how excited you were to be in D.C., so they promised to stay at least a day after the hunt.
This particular hunt was near a naval base in D.C.. You weren’t too keen on going into their crime scenes. Sometimes the real FBI showed up. The last case you had in this part of the United States was in New Orleans. You were reunited with a long-time friend, Dwayne Pride, or as everyone else called him King. He worked for NCIS, but luckily he knew who you were. Otherwise things could have gotten messy. You buttoned the last few buttons of your suit jacket, grabbing your FBI badge and slipping it into your jacket pocket.
Dean and Sam walked out of the motel room behind you. “Now, if someone comes up to us that is actually from the FBI or NCIS, let me talk to them,” you instructed the Winchesters. “I know someone who can help us if we get into a sticky situation.”
Happy (very very belated) birthday, @sandwichesandsideburns!! Thank you for being a great friend and a positive presence in the fandom! <3 I know that mer!au is smething you like but you don’t often see it around too much, so here’s a scene for you! Hope you like it! ^-^
Apologize. If you were wrong, apologize. Life is too short to live with regrets.
Have no regrets. You will have them, trust me, but try not to.
Life is not shitty. Well, sometimes yes but it’s what you make of it.
In the end you must get back up. You must always get back up.
Be kind. Be generous. There is never enough to go around.
Pride is not worth a relationship unless…scratch that. Pride is complicated. Protect it when appropriate.
Compliment them. If you’re thinking about it then say it.
People may never remember what you said but they’ll always remember how you made them feel.
Just open the door. It doesn’t matter if you’re a guy or girl or both. It’s polite. So go and open the door for some people.
Drugs & Alcohol: Be smart. Don’t abuse them. Don’t love them either. Make them an acquaintance, a stranger, or perhaps an old friend. Never make them a best friend.
Life’s too short for bitches.
Choose your battles. Fighting is exhausting.
Stand up for yourself. Sometimes you only get one chance.
Stand up for others. Even if they don’t want you too. Assholes are ridiculous.
Assholes are ridiculous. Don’t get hot and bothered by them. Just be hot.
Everyone has insecurities, They’re stupid. The sooner you realize that the sooner you can get over them.
Nobody has time for liars.
Every group has that one bitch. Until you get rid of her/him. Then your group is amazing.
Pride is the deadliest sin for a reason.
No one is entitled to respect. They have to earn it.
You are not a baby for crying when you’re frustrated.
There are drama queens and then they’re are upset people accused of being a drama queen because the accusers can’t deal with being a moron. Figure out which one you are. The sooner you know, the sooner you can figure out who to punch: the accusers or yourself.
Try not to judge or assume. It’s hard. Believe me, it is, but life’s a lot easier when you’re minding your own business.
Wait to drop the I love you bomb. Even if you really mean it. Because sometimes you have to wait to see if it’s worth it. Wait to see if the relationship is worth the I love you, if the person is worth the I love you, if the whole goddamn world is worth the I love you. Because if you’re saying I love you to things that aren’t worth it then in the end what is the worth of ‘“I love you”?
Tell them that you love them. Tell them that you love them every second of everyday. Because sometimes we forget. Sometimes we just need to be reminded of how much we’re loved.
Love is not a word you force out of your mouth. It is a force. It will find it’s own way out of your mouth in more forms than a word.
There are people out there that love you.
There’s a lot of unhappy people in this world. Don’t be one of them.
If you have a dream, if there’s something you want to do in your life, if there’s an irreplaceable vision in your eyes then for the love of God go after it.
Write it down. No you will not remember it, yes it will get away from you, and yes you will regret not writing it down. Write it down.
Be you when you’re driving. Don’t be a tired you, a drunk you, a high you, or an anything you. Just be you. Not _____ you. Because it only takes once to become a not you.
Do something because it’s beautiful (not my own words but I believe it).
Swear Words: It’s not the word, it’s the inflection.
Differences are important. Like the difference between a democrat and a republican, or feminism and feminazis, or even then and than! Knowing differences…well, they make a difference.
People can’t just choose to be happy. That’s like saying eat when you’re not hungry or poop when you’re constipated. For some people, being happy is a daily struggle. Don’t ever tell anyone to just “be happy”.
If you’re depressed, tell someone. You have to tell someone, anyone, because you have to have someone to pull you up when you fall, tell you to move when you stop, and remind you to keep your chin up high even when you find every reason not to.
Sometimes a hug can fix everything. So can a good cry and a nice slice of comfort food.
If you want something, ask for it. If they tell you no, work for it. If all else fails, fight for it.
The world is not black and white. It’s grey. It’s also very, very colorful.
You can never go wrong with a firm handshake.
If you want it done right, do it yourself.
Prove them wrong.
Do not be oblivious or ignorant. It is not a strength.
Be sneaky, be witty, be upright clever but above all, play fair.
You won’t win if you don’t fight.
There’s more to family then blood.
The kids aren’t always right. Neither are the parents.
Do not lose sight of who you are. It’s terrifying.
People will tell you that dreams are stupid and passions irrelevant. They’re wrong.
Sometimes it’s easier to ask for forgiveness rather then permission.
Finally, disregard everything I’ve just said. Or take it all to heart. It’s just my opinion, one opinion, and it’s your life. Take what you will.
One I do advise everyone to follow: Pigs very much can fly. Just stop looking down. Instead, look up.
girls that glitter deceive death | a Rebekah Mikaelson fanmix
01. I’m gonna fight ‘em off, a seven nation army couldn’t hold me back / 02. I am not your confessional, I’d sooner stay your deadliest sin / 03. I must be the devil’s daughter, what a dark father to dwell in me / 04. don’t dance with the devil if you can’t take the heat / 05. I will not hide my face, I will not fall from grace, I’ll walk into the fire, baby, all my life I was afraid to die, but now I come alive inside these flames / 06. the thing that girls know best is that glitter covers all the ugliness, and they know one thing above all the rest: sparkle covers evilness, shimmer covers all the mess / 07. there have been many others, and yes, I’ve treated them the same as you, but quick I bled them dry, and I licked the salty tears they cried, and many went from many to a few / 08. one of these days a-coming, I’m gonna take that boy’s crown, there’s a serpent in these still waters lying deep down, to the king, I will bow, at least for now / 09. I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it
“I feel that many of the people here have grown inflated egos after learning the potential greatness that an ENTJ personality type implies. I would just like to say that pride and arrogance IS a weakness. Take this from a true ENTJ, pride is the deadliest sin that you can be suspect to. And if you’re reading this and thinking ‘Wtf is this guy talking about, I’m just confident’ you just proved me right.”
This masterlist features fics where Katniss, Peeta, or Both are Dancers. This act must be a major plot point and/or drive the plot. All of these stories will be considered Alternate Universe but can still take place in Panem.
Please make sure to read the tags and summary before diving into the fic. Some stories may feature subject matter which is not to everyone’s tastes.
As with all masterlists, if you find a story that fits but is not on this list, let us know by sending us a message or fanmail with the story link.
All I wanted were some fucking cigarettes. Sounds harmless, don’t you agree? I mean aside from the whole cancer thing, buying them should be a pretty easy thing to do, right? Apparently not in my world. I am currently in custody right now because of that one reason. That one. Pack of. Smokes.
The city I live in is a bit… extraordinary. I use that word loosely in the sense that we’re “EXTRA ordinary”. In short, we’re ahead of the loop on things. We get to test out all the cool gadgets and tech equipment before they hit the rest of the world. We’ve had self-driving cars for years now (and they’re safer than you think).We’re basically lab rats that get to play with cool toys. Think of it as one of those “technology testing sites” in the middle of nowhere. We’re about as severed from the rest of society as a lost Amazonian tribe.
Speaking of Amazon… They’re the ones that put me in this mess.
I woke up that morning at nine o’clock, same as I do every morning. I rarely know what day it is thanks to my lifestyle. A simple, easy lifestyle where I don’t have to lift a finger because everyone does the work for me.
“Good morning, Mr. Bell,” came the voice of Alexa, my personal assistant. She ran everything around here, from making my dinner to washing my clothes, there wasn’t anything Alexa didn’t do. She was the main brain behind it all.
“The temperature for today is mostly sunny with a low chance of showers in the late afternoon.”
Not that I cared. I didn’t have a reason to go outside, everything I needed was within reach. The sofa where I spent most of my time had been custom made for me, from comfortable neck support right down to the extra cushioning for my ass. It came with a retractable tray and cupholder, which were used for all of my meals (not to mention all the snacks in between).
“Alexa? Will you make me the usual for breakfast?”
“Certainly. I’ll have it out for you in ten minutes,” came Alexa’s response. Amazon gave you the option of changing Alexa’s voice to whatever character you desired, real or fictional. I sometimes changed mine to Morgan Freeman when I wanted some epic narrations or to Mia Khalifa when I needed… company.
While I waited for breakfast, I grabbed the virtual reality headset that was within reach and put it over my head. I powered it on and immediately became separated from this world. I stood before an interactive menu. I checked out a few updates from my favorite E-sports team then head over to Youtube. While I watched videos of cats chasing balls of yarn, the smell of bacon entered my nostrils. Extra burnt, just the way I liked it.
I was watching a video of a particularly fat tabby cat swatting at a jack-in-the-box when Alexa’s voice came drifting in, “Breakfast is served, Mr. Bell.”
I peeled the VR set from my head. I blinked a couple of times to adjust to this world’s lighting. No matter how many times you use your VR headset, the transition to the real world always has a slightly disorienting effect. When my vision came to, I was greeted by the sight of a hefty-sized Western omelette and a generous side of bacon. I licked my lips. What a time to be alive.
When breakfast was safely transferred from the porcelain surface of the dinner plate to the pit of my stomach, a robot the size of a trashcan took my now-empty dish (save for a few crumbs of bacon). It retreated back into the kitchen where it would dispose of the food scraps and wash the plate. I pulled the VR headset over my eyes and once again took my leave from this world.
The robots did all of my household chores. It was like I had a personal staff of butlers and maids who waited on me hand and foot. Since I rarely left my comfortable sofa, I’d view myself as an easy master to please. I had chef robots for cooking my food, housekeeping robots for doing my laundry, taking out the trash, and dusting my shelves. Hell, I even had maintenance robots that’d come and check the wirings of my apartment when something was wrong with the heating or plumbing. I lived in my own little paradise, where everything I could possibly need was within reach. The best part was, I didn’t have to pay a cent for all of this.
And it was all thanks to Amazon. The company, along with Google, built this community several years ago, away from the greedy eyes of the media and the rest of ignorant society. They made a small fortune off this little playground. When I first came aboard this “experiment”, as they called it, I had to sign a contract saying that I would not post anything revealing the nature of this community to anyone. Amazon named this project ‘Eden BETA.’ They were very adamant about swearing secrecy to the happenings at Eden BETA, and threatened with expulsion from the community if we leaked any information to an outside source. As I am writing this, however, I couldn’t give less fucks about their stupid contract.
My troubles started on that mostly sunny day (with a low chance of showers in the late afternoon). An hour after breakfast, the mail came. The robot mailman let himself into my apartment using a special code. I heard the gentle whir as the trashcan scuttled into the kitchen and stocked my fridge with my food for the next few days. Like Alexa, it knew what I liked to eat. I took off my headset while I listened to the mailman rustle around in my fridge, meticulously placing eggs, vegetables, cheese, fruit and meats into their designated areas. My mouth started to water. Today, I also got my pack of cigarettes.
Eden BETA took pride on being a safe and clean environment for everybody. I carried my smoking habit with me when I joined the community, and did little to kick it despite many passive-aggressive remarks from Alexa. She would nag at me like a woman I’d been married to for forty years. She’d spew random smoking facts at me “Did you know that one cigarette takes shortens your life by seven minutes, Mr. Bell?” and “How’s your heart doing, Mr. Bell? It’d beat a lot stronger if you quit smoking.” But I didn’t care. I loved the way the Turkish tobacco filled my lungs, and the satisfying cloud of thick, gray smoke I produced. No woman, even if she was a robot, could keep me from smoking my death sticks.
Which is why I was mildly surprised when the mailman started making its way toward my door, without handing over a box of my Camels.
“Excuse me,” I called out to the retreating robot. “Where are my cigarettes?”
The mailman faced me and raised itself at attention, like a soldier receiving orders. It droned in a slight cockney accent, “I’m sorry sir, the R.J. Reynolds Tobacco company has closed its doors for good. They are not selling any more Camel cigarettes.”
I stared dumbly at the robot. It returned my gaze with an equally blank expression. I clenched my jaw at this inconvenience. I needed my morning cigarette.
“And… you didn’t think of getting me a box of something else?”
“Unfortunately not sir, I don’t have the clearance to make such changes to your stock. You can go into your dashboard and order a new brand of cigarettes. I’ll be sure to bring them to you tomorrow.”
I waved the robot away with a hand of disgust. I watched as it rotated towards the door and disappeared into the hallway. My fingers were already starting to twitch from withdrawal. Jesus, was I craving a smoke.
I thought about it for a while, debating on whether or not I needed to puff on something today. It took mere minutes for the verdict to come in: I did need it.
I rolled myself up onto one arm and swung my legs over the side of the couch. Several mouse-sized robots that were busily vacuuming the floor scurried away as I placed two feet on the floor. I sat on the edge of the couch for a couple of moments, planning my next move: I was going to go to the gas station and get them myself.
A sudden grim realization caused my entire body to shudder. How long has it been since I’ve gone grocery shopping? I swallowed what felt like a stone of anxiety which started to fester deep in my belly as my mind raced. How long has it been since I left my house? I steadied my breath and thought long and hard, but I could find no answer to my question.
My only reason to leave the couch would be to use the bathroom, I thought stupidly. Have I really become that big of a lazy fuck?
I stood up and, by instinct, gave my body a good stretch. Being cooped up for eight hours at a time makes all your muscles bunch up in knots. I shuffled over to the bathroom rubbing my stiff neck and approached the mirror, where one of the mouse-sized robots was busy polishing the glass surface. I shooed it away with a few swats of my hand and stared at my ghostly reflection.
Only it wasn’t ghost that I was looking at. I could barely recognize myself. What stared back at me was a vacant, melon of a face- with beet-red cheeks and shaggy, carrot hair. My once distinguishing cheekbones had disappeared under a thick layer of pudge. My neck had joined my cheekbones in hiding. I lifted one gelatinous glob of an arm and inspected my rear. I let out a yelp of shock when I noticed the dark scabs on my back. Bed sores. My back looked like an exposed mine field of bed sores. Some of the larger ones were caked with white puss and oozing a copper-colored liquid. I retched violently and got a taste of the eggs I had for breakfast.
How could I have let myself go like this? I thought to myself. Disappointment bubbled within me. I must have passed by the mirror a million times to use the toilet, but I was too busy in my own little world to even notice.
I ran one hand down my cheek, inspecting the stranger that stood before me. The shock was beginning to subside now. It was slowly being replaced by a gnawing sensation: addiction. It made my sinuses hurt and my mouth dry.
“No,” I told my fat reflection. “Today is the day you quit. Today you’re hitting the gym and-”
Who was I kidding? I had less spine than a jellyfish. Bruce Lee could have knocked on my door at that moment and delivered the most inspirational speech of all time and I’d just brush past him on my way out. Addiction will do that to you. It feels like there’s this small creature sitting inside you, one that’s always hungry and begging to be fed. Its appetite is insatiable, and if you deny it, it makes your body hurt all over. Your head splits in two, you break out in cold sweats, you feel weak, your insides feels like they’re on fire. Addiction is a disease.
Thanks to my lifestyle, I had several addictions.
Determined to alleviate my throbbing headache, I started to get dressed. I had to settle for a hoodie and some sweatpants because none of my other clothes would fit me. I started for the door when a sultry voice came from behind me, “Where are you going, big boy?”
I froze in place. I recognized the voice at once and my face flushed.
“J-just to the store,” I stammered. The tops of my ears were burning.
“Don’t you want to stay and play with me?” came the voice of Mia Khalifa. “Go put on your headset and I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”
My lip quivered from desire. I was already picturing a dozen scenarios that involved a bottle of chocolate syrup and a flog. I could feel the tent starting to pitch in my pants. I looked at my VR headset and made a step toward it. Then another. I could taste the chocolate in my mouth. Mia encouraged me to sit down.
Before I could sit another thought flashed in my head. I always concluded my dates with Mia with a smoke. This realization knocked me out of my sexual spell and put me back on course. I couldn’t be stopped. Not like this.
Before I could be stopped by my fantasy partner, I turned on my heel and marched out of my apartment, slamming the door on the way out.
I entered the elevator where the robotic doorman asked, “Floor?”
“G,” I said shortly. G for garage.
The residents of Eden BETA were provided with cars. They were self-driving ones that would safely bring you to your destination. It was nice not having to focus on the road, not worrying about animals or stupid drivers. You could just put on your headset and zone out while Alexa did all the driving.
It took me a while to find my car in the garage. The fact that everyone was issued a Mini Cooper didn’t make my search any easier. I meandered through the rows of silver cars. My footsteps echoed on the concrete and traveled through the dark corridors. I stopped several times to catch my breath. I was already sweating thanks to my habitual lethargy. After some more aimless wandering I finally found my car tucked away between two pillars.
I used my fingerprint to open the door and piled myself in. I moved the seat way back but I still felt cramped in that tiny space, like a contortionist curling up in a box. I did my best to tuck my rolls into the vehicle then pressed the ‘push to start’ button.
The car didn’t start. I pressed the button harder. Nothing.
Damn. Alexa must have cut me off, I thought sourly. I gave the button a few more useless taps.
I let out a heavy sigh. Luckily, the cars had a driver option. I could drive it myself, old-school style. I opened the glovebox and retrieved the key that was hiding there. I jammed it into the ignition and the car sputtered to life. It gave off a few shudders of protest, as if it had been disturbed from a blissful slumber (me too, buddy). I gave the clutch a yank and the car jerked forward. My heart leapt to my throat as the car hit the wall with a solid THUD.
They say driving a car is like riding a bike, you never forget. It seemed like I had driven in a different life then, because it took me a while to figure it out.
“Okay… R is for reverse, D is for drive,” I muttered to myself. It was much easier in virtual reality.
With a few jerks and thrusts, I learned how to drive again. As the car lurched out of the garage, I checked for oncoming traffic. There wasn’t a soul on the road. My street was deserted. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I made a left turn.
As soon as I left the garage I was greeted by a torrential downpour. The raindrops hammered against my windshield as I fumbled for the wipers.
“Low chance of showers, my ass,” I mumbled. You’d think with all this technology they’d have a more accurate forecast.
The rain fell relentlessly, forming small rivers on the side of the road. The gas station where I could get my cigarettes was just down the street. I was hell-bent on getting what I wanted, no, needed.
I passed no one on that two-way street. The gray apartments loomed over me on either side while the thick, dark clouds looked menacing overhead, as if God Himself had just enjoyed a nice smoke. Just as I started to regret my decision to go out into this cold, colorless world, the gas station came into view. The road split into two, separated by a large island of concrete. From here I could see the neon lights of the gas station beckoning to me from that island, like a lighthouse guiding a ship through a nasty storm.
I drew closer to the sign until it became legible: Gas, Milk, Bread, Cold Drinks, and bingo. Cigarettes.
I pulled into the empty island and turned off my car. I squeezed my belly out first, then one leg, then the other. The effort left me wheezing for air, but it would soon be worth it. My lips watered at the thought of nicotine.
With trembling hands I pulled on the door to the gas station. My chest sank when it didn’t budge. I pushed. Still nothing.
“Fuck!” I screamed and struck the glass with a closed fist. I cupped my hands and peered inside. The lights were all on inside, but I couldn’t see anyone, human or robot. I banged on the glass door, begging to be let in.
I became frantic. I was so close that I could see the cigarettes behind the counter. They were sitting there, mocking me. I gave the door a few more bangs then stormed off into the rain.
My mind was on survival mode. I hungrily searched for a rock, anything to maybe break the glass and let myself in. I’d only take one pack. I’d even offer to pay for the glass door and then some for the trouble. The rain drenched me as I desperately scanned the ground for anything I could use. The more I searched, the more I longed to be with Mia Khalifa, where I’d be covered in warm chocolate sauce instead of this freezing rain.
Fuck it, I thought to myself. Maybe I’ll just drive my whole fucking car into the store-.
A whoop of a siren stopped me dead in my tracks. I was suddenly flooded by blue and white lights. Police. I felt a mixed sensation of relief and anxiety.
I instinctively threw two hands in the air. The weight of them made my body shake. My wet hair fell over my eyes and I could just barely make out the figure that had stepped out of the vehicle. He was human.
“Mr. Bell, remain where you are!” he ordered. He garbled something into his radio that I couldn’t make out. I struggled to raise my hands higher in the air.
I called out sheepishly, “Where is everyone?” Whether he ignored me or my voice got lost in the bellowing sound of rain, I did not know.
As he approached, my eyes bulged to the gun he had drawn. He had it pointed straight at me.
Without hesitation, I planted one foot and to the best of my abilities started to book it. The cop shouted at me but I didn’t listen. My body told me to keep running, so I did.
I didn’t think about why the gas station was closed, or why the cop had drawn a gun on me. I was too busy focusing on my own issues.
With every thundering step my knees screamed in pain. Every joint in my body was set ablaze. My sides jiggled like earthquakes. My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt like I was going to throw up. I was disgustingly out of shape but I pressed on as best as I could. The cop, who was as big as a football quarterback and just as fit, had no problem catching my pudgy ass as I galloped across the parking lot. I don’t think I made it more than twenty yards before he was on top of me. He drove a shoulder into the small of my back and I tumbled forward, eating a mouthful of concrete. He straddled me like I was some beast and unleashed a flurry of blows with his nightstick. I tasted blood and stars danced in my vision as the cop beat me senselessly. My fat cushioned most of the blows, but the ones that were delivered to my head stung. After the cop was satisfied, he took out a pair of handcuffs and wrestled to clasp them over my enormous wrists. At the end of the struggle, both of us sat there wheezing as if we had just inhaled a box of smokes.
As I lay there, dazed, soaked, and confused, something told me that the cop would have beaten me up even if I hadn’t run. There was a certain blood-thirst in those eyes when he first approached me with the gun.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in one of Eden BETA’s holding units. Despite the obvious abuse I faced earlier, I still had my right to a phone call. I couldn’t get a hold of anyone, so I wrote this up instead.
The future is not as bright as you think. Go outside, enjoy nature, be with friends, while you can. Who knows how long it’ll take until technology quietly takes over your life. I always thought I was in control, when really I wasn’t. After all, I was just a lab rat that had no say in anything anymore. It’s too late for me now. I’m afraid they won’t let me leave.
Humans weren’t meant to live like this. We are supposed to socialize, grow up learning from other humans, from their mistakes and their success. We get a job, we fall in love, we raise children, all while riding the emotional roller coaster that is life. We have up days, we have down days. We have emotions. That’s what separates us from our robotic counterparts. We have a greater purpose. What’s the point of life if you’re just going to have everything handed to you by some apathetic machine?
Whatever Amazon and the other big corporations are doing, it’s not good. We are blindly being led to our downfall and our enslavement. I’m not sure what they’ll do to me now that I had discovered their corrupt operation. What else are they hiding?
Heh. At least one of the men was decent enough to give me a cigarette.
Buffalos kill 7 people every year.
Lions kill 500 people every year
Hippos kill 800 people every year.
Spiders kill 5000 in people every year.
Scorpions kill 7000 people every year.
Snakes kill 10000 people every year.
Mosquitoes kill 2, 7 million people every year. The smallest are the deadliest.
Small ‘sins’, hardly noticed by us, are the most deadly to our spiritual life. Avoid excuses for not serving Allah. Sins of omission are just as deadly as sins of commission. White lies, gossiping, small lies, are committed more frequently and are deadly. Mind those little compromises that we do daily. They are the ones that will bring us downfall.
Summary: Peeta has always thought of himself as a gentleman. But
even though he tries to hold himself to that code, it doesn’t always
work out. After a run in with Johanna Mason in an elevator, he explores what that being a gentleman means terms of his own pleasure.
Why I chose this fic: Even a gentleman deserves pleasure.
Summary: For Peeta, his idea of playing games are meant to be kept secret. After
all, killing innocent women as his coping mechanism in life isn’t
exactly what people would think as ideal. Peeta doesn’t care though, for
he is nearing his end game: the love of his life.
Why I chose this fic: A dark, slightly twisted Peeta.