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@bxdragglxdarchive
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Put these appearance headcanon symbols in my ask!
♥ —— A headcanon about my character’s eyes.
♬ —— A headcanon about my character’s hair.
✩ —— A headcanon about my character’s lips.
☁ —— A headcanon about my character’s skin.
☂ —— A headcanon about my character’s nails.
♪ —— A headcanon about my character’s legs.
♯ —— A headcanon about my character’s nose.
♩ —— A headcanon about my character’s hands.
☺ —— A headcanon about my character’s feet.
☼ —— A headcanon about my character’s smile.
blank space;;
Nice to meet you Where you been? I could show you incredible things
The last thing he had ever expected to be was Reaped, let alone the youngest Victor ever. And with each passing year and each increasing bid on his bed, he barely had the sentiment to put emotional stock in his Tributes when, Career or not, odds were never in any Tribute's favor.
Yet wide green eyes stared at him from pale skin--highly rare for a District Four citizen--and a dark mess of curls, taking in his advice, actually listening, actually planning.
A girl. A dockhand.
She had no chance, but if anyone was going to help her, it was going to be him.
[ bxdragglxd ]
"Annie!"
Finnick raised a hand in the air as he scurried towards the quiet girl. He caught up to her with a smile on his face, his bronze curls falling into his face. He brushed them away carelessly. Having a word with the teacher had prevented him from accompanying her out the door, a duty he took very seriously. Since he had seen some idiot kid picking on her in the halls, he had been quick to take up a duty as bodyguard whenever he saw her.
"Did you do well? On the test, I mean."
Their sociology test, while not impossible, had been quite challenging though Finnick had done well enough on it. He had taken up the topic for conversation more out of habit than anything else. He was still learning the likes and dislikes of Annie Cresta, a very quiet girl. He only learned about her piece by piece, when she chose to give out such information to him.
"Oh! Finnick!" she blushed, looking down. He usually walked her to class time after time without a second thought, but he had to speak to the professor and she didn't want to bother him and had subsequently left without him. The last thing she had expected was to run to catch up with her.
"Oh. Um. I actually got a really good grade," she smiled, shyly casting her eyes down a little as she wrapped her coat around herself.
"Thanks for studying with me. You didn't have to do that. I...did you do well?" she asked after a hesitation that was probably incredibly awkward for him. She was just...quiet.
Her words were the only thing that cut through the panic filled haze around his mind, the beast that demanded to be fed by the feeling of Annie, hearing her words, reassuring himself she was still there. Gradually, his kisses slowed, more so as she promised to never leave him. It was just what he needed to hear, desperately needed. His fingers trembled as they held her face, though it was easier with her hands cradling his own face.
"I’m sorry." His voice cracked slightly, hardly noticeable but there all the same. “I’m sorry, Annie.” He hadn’t meant to get so suddenly spooked. The fear had crept up on him.
"I love you." The words reassured him too, as though saying them would keep Annie closer to him. He took big breaths to try and rid himself of the ragged ones that had been so plaguing him before. In and out, in and out. He focused on Annie, one hand sliding from her cheek to find its way into her hair.
"Your hair is so soft." It was an out of the blue statement, but perhaps his surprise stemmed from never having noticed just how soft it was. It was like holding silk, and he had felt silk plenty of times. But her hair was nicer. It smelled like sea water. His fingers methodically moved through it, growing steadier with his breaths and his trembling began to disappear.
He wasn’t braiding it or knotting it like usual. This time he was just content to play with it, pushing strands around in seemingly pointless ways. He sighed slowly as his heart rate returned to something more normal, more steady. Annie made everything okay.
"Ssssh, Finn. It's okay," she murmured, carefully pressing her forehead to his as her hushed murmurs got quieter, softer as he started to calm in her arms. He didn't always calm quickly, but she was grateful he at least always came back to her. If he ever left, whether of his volition or not, she didn't know if the sun or sea could bring her out of bed.
Even when he was recovering from clients' damage, though, even when he was triggered, even when he had trouble with coping--he came back to her, just as she came back to him. Annie often needed space from the world itself, but never would she willingly leave his arms, his kisses, or his reassurances.
"I love you, too, Finn," she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his, pressing her smaller body to his, collapsing herself further into his arms. Her head turned a little into his palm smoothing against her hair and his fingers gently stroking, combing, twirling soft tendrils around his fingers.
Eventually, as he played with her hair, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers start to slow and steady and his hands ceased to tremble and she knew he was out of the woods, at least for this moment. He was back to her.
She sank a little against the bed and slipped her face into the curve of his neck, arms wrapping around his middle. She closed her eyes and let herself rest and repair in his arms.

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He’s more than a pretty face… [x]
OKAY SO;;
OKAY SO....I don't know where Annie went in my head, but she's back, and so like for a starter or message me to plot???????????????
Finnick scooted a little closer towards the pup, wanting to pet it but not wanting to startle it. He settled for watching it with curious eyes instead. “There used to be a cranky old victor who lived here and threw stones at any dogs that came into the village. He died a few years ago but the dogs don’t come here unless they’re desperate.”
Finnick remembered that man all too well. He had never liked Finn. Or Gill. He had once tried to shoo Gill out of the village. That was, until his big brother came along.
"Poor dogs," she frowned, hugging the puppy a little tighter to her chest. The little dog happily nuzzled back into her warm body, closing is eyes as if he was perfectly content to nap in her arms forever.
"Do you think we could keep him, Finn?"
Finnick could still remember everything about Annie. Wasn’t that strange? He had lost himself in the walls, this collar had taken away most everything that had made him Finnick Odair. But he could still remember every single detail of Annie Cresta. What she liked, what she didn’t like. The color of her dress against her eyes on the day of their wedding…
Finnick shivered slightly. It was cold in this room, all of a sudden. He would have thought at least the heat of his blood would keep him warm, still trickling out of his wounds. He had seen floggings before, knew how they were supposed to be treated. Leaving it raw and exposed was not good, it prompted infection. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He found a scant comfort in his own tears, the salty water on his lips reminding him of his beloved sea. As though it still lived in him and it leaked from his eyes to comfort him.
A cold spot pressed against his cheek and Finnick frowned, wondering why it would just be there. His head slowly moved to look if there was a vent or something where it could be coming from. What he saw sent an entirely different chill through his veins. Finn scrambled to sit, pulling himself as close to the wall as he could without touching his aching back to it. Not having food or water must have gone to his head faster than he thought it would. It looked like he was seeing Annie.
"You’re not real." He moaned to himself, burying his head in his hands once again. “Not real. Not real.” He had dreamed of Annie coming to rescue him before, along with a ragtag group of rebel survivors. But that was a desperate dream and he knew it. The rebellion had been crushed to dust and Annie was far away, being held who knows where. Annie was out of his reach but his brain decided to torment him. His fingers went to his hair and began pulling at it, as though to pull the very image of Annie out of his brain. “Not real. You’re not real.”
Why he continued to torment himself, he didn’t know. It was cruel and he didn’t need this on his mind during his forced three day imprisonment. He didn’t need to think about Annie. And he didn’t need to think about his child, whom his brain had imagined in his wife’s arms.
She startled back when he turned to see her. His sea green eyes shocked open and he nearly flung himself close to the wall. A yelp escaped her lips as she covered her mouth, trying not to imagine the pain his back was in. She was so stupid to try and see him, but the last thing Annie had actually expected was for Finnick to actually see her. How could she have ever expected that?
"I--Finnick..." she swallowed, wondering if speaking would be too much for him, or if it was just better for her to leave completely and never torment him like this again. He didn't deserve to suffer from her own selfish curiosity. She just...she just had to see him. Now, though, after seeing him, she knew that she could never move on without him.
"I'm not real. I'm so sorry," she whimpered, tears brimming in her seaweed eyes. A hand moved to touch him, but she brought it back to her chest, shaming herself again. She couldn't touch him. Her hand would just fall through his skin all over again and her selfishness would only frighten him more.
"I'm---I'm so sorry." How on earth could she tell him that she was dead, his son was dead, and he was completely alone with nothing to live for an no escape from his endless hell? How could she absolutely shatter him like that? He deserved more than her, more than she had ever given him. Even in death, her frailty was hurting him.
Her arms wrapped tighter around their whimpering son to quell her instinct to reach for him and hold him. This was so foolish, so naive. What on earth had made her feel like going to him would be a good idea or give her any type of closure?
Happy munday!

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so i hit 1.5 k followers this past week and i’m planning on writing out this long following post thing but i figured that i could do a little giveaway as well. i recently started making my icons differently and would like to get more practice. so the rules are simple; you must be following me and you’ve got to reblog this post. it’ll be a flash giveaway so i will randomly choose a person (or however many depending on how many notes this gets) on january 25th at 3 pm cst. good luck. i just wanna make stuff and get better at it.
this is the oops i didn’t make it home by 3 update so this is going to go on until 5 pm CST — so in an hour and twenty minutes, i’ll pick random people.
Finnick chuckled as the little kitten nipped at him, wiggling his fingers to make them harder to catch. He liked this kitten. The two could use some pure light in their lives.
"She’s got a good bite on her."
Only a few seconds later did the kitten cease nipping at his fingers did she start licking him affectionately. Annie giggled and scratched behind the small kitten's ears. "I still don't know what to name her, though."
Finnick’s smile was almost sleepy with contentment as he rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with puppy-like adoration. He thought through the names and Noah seemed particularly good to him. Still he said nothing, watching her sift through the names.
"I’m not sure. I have a girl’s name in mind but I know we need both a girl and a boy.” He bit his lip slightly, still looking up at her. “I like Noah, though. Remember that old story about a flood covering the whole earth? Noah built a boat and lived.”
"I remember," she smiled, brushing his hair back a little. There was a smear of yellow paint on his neck and she wiped it off for him, looking down at him with complete admiration in her eyes. He was her everything, after all, and she was ecstatic to be able to get this future with him. "What were you thinking about for girl's names?" She asked, lightly rocking back and forth on her heels, leaning back in the curve of the hammock.
eccedentesiiastt
Singing.
It seemed odd, that Finnick’s first instinct would be to sing to his cellmate. It was a little old song from Four, something every citizen there seemed to know almost instinctively, similar to their famous swimming skills. Finnick sang strong though quiet, eyes scanning worriedly over Annie.
He hoped the song would soothe her. He hoped it would keep her there with him, because right now he needed her too.
She wasn't there with him. She was far from him, lost in her own thoughts, shivering from the cold and trembling because of her fear. They weren't in Four. They weren't safe. She was with Finn, yes, but she was terrified of where they were. The Capitol...the Capitol. Annie was limp against the stone floor with her head lying lifelessly in his lap. With the exception of the rise and fall of her chest, she was as still as a corpse.
How To Be Dead || Katniss & Annie
Katniss was about to answer her when the sound of footsteps could be heard outside and her eyes widened as the door was slung open. It creaked against it’s hinges and Katniss scrambled to stand as the peacekeepers rushed into the room. Her bare feet slipped against the cool floor and they easily grabbed hold of her.
"No!" She screamed, thrashing as they each seized one or her arms, pulling her from the room. The door slammed behind them and she continued to scream, crying out until they pressed a needle into her arm and moments later everything went dark.
Annie scrambled into the corner as they took Katniss away, fearing that she was next. There was screaming and sounds of struggles and Annie clamped over her ears in a feeble attempt to avoid hearing such painful sound. Of course, it didn't work, and seconds later, Peacekeepers seized her.
She was practically tossed back into her cell, bruised, aching, and no clothes. A sheet was thrown on her and the door was slammed shut.
Annie cried, sobbed and knelt, hands over her ears. She needed Finnick.

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Finnick could feel tears through his shirt. Raw heat burst into his throat and into his eyes as they lay there. Heat of anger and of tears threatened to overcome him as Annie curled into him. One hand, as lightly as possible, stroked her hair, while tears fell to his pillow, unseen to her closed eyes.
He was going to kill them. He was going to kill every bastard Peacekeeper who had dared lay a hand on his Annie. He hadn’t felt this blood lust since Mags’ death, and Gill’s. He felt it was a wonder Annie did not flinch away from the heat in his core, the fire of an anger lit by love. Love made people do desperate, crazy things. It made Finnick want to feel the weight of the trident in his hand again, to feel it sink into the chest of Snow, to watch the blood ooze out of the man that had made Annie fear. He felt like an animal.
He didn’t care.
"I’m going to protect you." His voice came wobbly, from between clenched teeth as he plotted every possible painful death for her assailants. Finnick could be good at hurting people. He had been on the other end long enough.
She truly hurt, inside and out. Finnick's presence only stopped the agonizing ache in her chest from growing stronger, but was still in agony. Her hips were tender and sore, her wrists stung from healing cuts, her neck ached in bruises and her skin crawled with disgust, invasive and raw. Her eyes opened to his arms around her, but she could feel ever jagged edge in her mind so clearly. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe Snow had finally broken her. Maybe she wasn't in Thirteen at all, Finnick was gone, and she was truly alone. Her mind was cold and dark as her ocean eyes, red around the edges from tears, stared on to a world beyond them. She was too unstable to stop the onslaught; everything that hurt was replaying in her memories. Matthew's death and his hot blood on her face; the cold, cold water of the Arena's flood; her Victory Tour and watching Panem mock her pain; realizing Finnick was truly a slave to the Capitol; Finnick and Mag's reaping, Mag's death, and the months spent in the Capitol spent at the mercy of the Peackeeper's animalistic cravings. Everything hurt.
Whatever it takes to break you.