#shitty edits that give me joy

[quitesins]

Katsuki Catching you on the Sims

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, suggestive, fem!reader, friends to lovers, short drabble, no edit just vibes

“Is…is that us?” The voice startles you and you immediately go to cover your screen, embarrassment hitting you like a truck.

“What- no- Kats’ what-” You scramble out the words, snapping your head to the side.

“Oh it fucking is, isn’t it?” You can hear the smirk, Katsuki shoving you lightly to the side and taking seat. “Go on, show me.”

You shake your head harshly, still clutching the laptop, not making any moves to close the game.

“Nah, I wanna see.” Katsuki can be stubborn and you know you aren’t going to get out of this one.

“Fine…” You whisper out, reluctantly slipping your hands down and finding the mouse pad.

God, it’s embarrassing.

You can’t even try to hide the resemblance between the character of your game and the man beside you. His name is in bright capital letters, admitting your lies for you.

“Huh, it really is me.” Katsuki muses, eyeing his Sims counterpart. “Got my skull shirt and all.”

The sim in question walks around the screen, throughout a large but homely house. The two of you watch it for a moment, when suddenly a notification pops up. Oh no.

“This sim is feeling…” Katsuki starts to read, and you wish for the ground to swallow you. “Flirty?”

You don’t even want to look at the screen anymore, but Katsuki does, following along the character as the camera pans. Soon another sim is in view. One that’s evidently you. And before you can even attempt to pause the game, divert the character away or even throw the laptop off you, there goes Katsuki’s sim, pulling yours into a kiss. A grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

Not a word is said. All you can hear is your own heart beating tremendously. You wonder if he can hear it. Then, abruptly and loud, Katsuki laughs.

A genuine- from the belly- laugh. He doesn’t stop, even when you shake him in protest, whining that he’s being a prick. There’s tears in his eyes, his head is tilted back and his hands rest on yours as they jab at him lightly. If you weren’t so flustered you’d probably appreciate the rare display of unrestrained joy.

“Shut the fuck up! Katsuki!” The laptop is pushed off you by now, and you’re practically atop of the man, shaking him to stop.

His laughter starts to taper but with a chuckle still in his voice, he says. “You’re an idiot, y’know that?”

Katsuki doesn’t give you a moment to take in the words, already pulling you to him, clutching your face in his hands and kissing you.

One grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

It surprises you for a second, but then you melt, almost asking for more. You’re on his lap, by your own movements and his. Nothing on your mind but the feeling of his lips against yours.

When the two of you finally pull apart, you can see how he blushes, how his chest falls and rises. Just like you- he’s in his own fluster.

“Could’ve just asked.” He breathes, the two of you calming. “I’d give you anything from that shitty game.”

The hint of jealousy makes you giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. “Even the multi-billion dollar house I designed?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft and full of love.

“Yeah, even the fuckin’ world.”

-

“Holy fuck [Name], do we have kids in this shit?”

“KATSUKI!! STOP LOOKING!!!”

I’m currently trying to re-download sims because the last I played was when I was 16 and I miss it! Bout to make my whole genshin team and start a fight club 💪

Edit: this is getting loads of reblog comment thingies and I really want to say thank u!!! But IDK HOW TO REPLY??? THIS APP IS SO HARD TO USE???!??

#fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki imagine #bakugou drabble #drabble #bakugou fluff #mha fanfic #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

[runningfrom2am]

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

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a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you.  "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury.  "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe fic #outer banks #obx #obx fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

[just-a-random-dead-thing]

~Lost and found~ (Larissa Weems x student!reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

Sorry for the longer than expected wait! Mocks are a bitch and a half! The reader is a snarky little shit in this chapter btw- The chapters will be getting slightly longer as I get more comfortable with the story but please let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (1.2k words)

Thank you for all your kind words about the last chapter <3 I hope you continue to enjoy my shitty angst!!!

Lastly thank you once again to @thefangedman for the editing to make the story make any semblance of sense. You should check out their Tiffany Valentine fic! It's amazing!!!

Static takes over my senses. I slowly come round from my near death experience at the hands of my own Headmistress - ‘my duty is to protect all the students within these walls’ my ass. The glaring lights start to bother my shut eyes, begging me to open them and rejoin the living world. I'll give it 5 more minutes. I haven't had a nap like this in years.

Just as I'm getting comfortable, I hear the tapping of heels on a wooden floor, pacing back and forth. From what I can piece together, Weems accidentally impeded my ability to breathe; I passed out and she has dragged me to her office because she's too embarrassed to tell the nursing staff what happened. Hmm... I should have some fun with her. Fake amnesia seems like it'll do the trick. I mentally smirk, thinking over the horrified reaction I'll get to see on her face.

I flutter open my eyes to play into the act of just having awoken. I stare at the ceiling, hearing her rush towards me. "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, how are you feeling? It appears you... umm, passed out in the corridor."

I turn to face her, sitting up on the leather sofa I'm lying on. I rub my forehead, slightly obscuring my eye as a confused expression crosses my features.

"...I'm sorry but who is Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, and who are you?" Her face, like I thought, is priceless - she even backs away slightly.

Her voice quivers as she talks, an unfamiliar tone in the usually confident woman.

"S-shit...no no no. This can't be happening, I d-didn't. God, what am I going to do-" with this, she grips my face in her hand, the other removing my own from my forehead, grasping it gently as our eyes meeting in perfect alignment. The only difference is her eyes are glazed over with tears that will fall any second, "I am so sorry, Y/N..."

God, this was meant to be fun, but it's just depressing.

I swear, she has an ability to suck all the joy out of anything I do. I roll my eyes at her, but in reality a small part of me feels regret. Regret over my actions, regret over leaving her in this state, but alas, I repress this thought and lean into the anger. I rip my hand out of hers and shove her away from me.

"You're so annoying! I can't even prank you after you nearly murder me without you sucking the joy out of it. Also- thanks for being too scared to take me to see the nursing staff, or even an actual fucking doctor incase God forbid you got into trouble. I could have gotten actual brain damage-"

I am interrupted mid-rant when she embraces me, her face buried in my neck, now fully sobbing. Fuck. Why do I always have to be such a blunt asshole? I need Noah to translate my words into nice ‘feeling protecting’ ones, he's good at all the dumb emotional stuff. Normally I am at least okay at faking, and I can get by, but everything just feels so foggy. No matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate on finding the right words.

I feel awkward as her hot tears sear into my skin like a mark of shame. I bring my hand to her head, undoing her usual pristine hairstyle. I run my hand over her scalp and the nape of her neck, gently scratching her skin. She calms down slowly, relaxing more into me more. My hand slows with her tears, until both cease and we remain there, unmoving for what feels like eternity. Neither one of us knows how to proceed, not wanting to ruin our brief moment of peace and unspoken understanding of what the other needs.

It has to end eventually however, and I am the one to do so, saying words I never thought I'd utter to this woman in my life. Before I can gather what to say three simple words cross my mind, "...I am sorry."

No. I will never apologise to this woman.

Instead I simply remove all venom from my being. I render myself completely vulnerable to her, a spider without its fangs, completely defenceless. "I don't think before I speak. As you know I'm not exactly great at the whole communication thing. So understand, I did not mean to hurt you. I just struggle when taking others emotions into account and instead I chose to be selfish by lashing out at you, it was immature of me."

The air felt thick as I tried to regain my lost stoicism. I feel shame and pity for both of us. I pry her away from my body as I stand, desperately needing to leave, but my legs buckle beneath my weight as everything goes blurry - fuck. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

Before my body can meet the welcoming ground, I am snatched by a set of strong arms. She turns me to face her once more, before gently setting me on the settee. She turns away from me walking towards her desk as she speaks, her voice still not quite back to it's typical happy/mildly aggressive cadence.

"I had the nurses come to see you here, because I know you don't like the nursing wing of the academy. They said you'd have a mild concussion from hitting your head, and told me to observe you, which is why I didn't put you in your dorm. I know you think of me as being too proud to admit when I am wrong, but I want you to know I will never put my pride before the health of you, or anyone else in this academy."

God, what is wrong with Weems, I think I broke her. She's being too emotional - in the sad way, normally she's just angry. I swear, she speaks exclusively in passive aggressive niceness. I lift my head to properly meet her eyes.

She has taken her seat pride of place behind her desk, having almost the same power behind it as when a queen takes her throne. I begin to verbalise my thoughts.

"Are you on your period? Or are you too old for that... when does menopause start? Oh wait, could it be perimenopause? Oh god, are you pregnant? Can you still even get pregnant?" I become horrified as the last thought even crossed my mind, that poor child.

I notice Weem's equally horrified expression contorting her features, "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N just how old do you think I am exactly? I also don't appreciate the invasive line of questioning, but for your information, no, I am not pregnant."

I shutter slightly feeling her peircing gaze wait for me to answer her. "I want to say, 54...?" Oh God, she looks like she's about to slap me. "54! I beg your pardon, Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, I am 44, and I do not appreciate you aging me a decade! I should give you an extra detention for this alone."

I look at her, wondering if she has been seriously affected by my words, merely her vanity showing as per usual, or if this is her failed attempt trying to be more humorous while scolding me. I run my hand through my hair and let it fall over my eyes.

"I don't give a shit how old you are! You still cried like a baby either way, get over yourself, you're not 2. So what? You nearly murdered someone, we've all been there. You aren't special, so don't expect sympathy from me!"

Weems stands once and strides towards me. I am not interested in her lectures about manners and etiquette, so I leave quickly through the nearest set of doors and out into the corridor, taking a sharp right into the closest room to me.

Grabbing the chair beside me, I barricade the door, allowing myself to slide down it and contemplate all that's happened thus far, while also figuring out an excuse. I look around the room, only now realising I've locked myself within Weems' bedroom.

"Shit."

================tags================

@the-bagel24, @suckerforcate

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #student x professor #wenclair #oc #morticia x gomez #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #marilyn thornhill #mortica addams #gomez addams

[survivingandenduring]

At the start of 2023 I was a quiet Pedro admirer; although Narcos was my gateway Pedro I was just admiring from a distance; following films and interviews but definitely not engaging. Too scary. 😟

The Mandalorian came along and I peeked into fandom but didn’t engage 🫣

HBO’s TLOU changed all that.

I put my big girl panties on and dipped my toe in the water. I wanted to join in with the fun 🤩 Not having a creative writing bone in my body I started making some video edits on the clock app; Some really, really poor quality and quite shitty edits. 😂 But I was having a lot fun making them and it was purely for my own enjoyment. 💗

💜🖤💜🖤💜

Got my Mandalorian/TLOU tattoo it says endure & survive in Mandalorian script cos I was Six when Star Wars came out and it’s been my comfort for nearly my whole life; and then the TLOU hit me with all of its feelings!!! And Endure & Survive has pretty much been a mantra for my life at times. So..

The Met Gala was life altering.

Gradually I’ve taught myself how to make edits that are a bit better; and some people even seem to like them!! And I started to get followers on the clock app! Crazy!! Still think it’s crazy that anyone takes time to watch or comment on them. I’ve not been confident enough to post much of them on here amongst so much cool stuff but I’ll try to push myself to do that more in 2024

💜🖤💜🖤💜

As the odd; ND, but I’m gen x so just weird, person I’ve always felt I’ve been the one on the outside or the edge looking in; I still mainly feel like that; but Pedro fandom has let me feel like I’m a tiny part of something; which is such a gift. I wish Pedro could understand that his work gives so much more to people. I’ve made some wonderful friends because of it and I hope to make more in the next year.

Fandom has truly allowed me to feel ok being myself 💗 and that’s so fucking cool.

💜🖤💜🖤💜

After reading fics on a03 I switched over to here; and then made an account.

Wow!!! What a difference. I love the interaction with the writers; the fact that you all take the time to respond to comments and thoughts is amazing to me and truly valued 💗🥰

The silliness on tumblr is like beautiful fresh air to breathe.’; whether it’s Marcus P and DONUTS; or the Catfish PhD program 😁 these bring me such joy. 🥰

I’ve read soooooo many amazing fics there are too many to mention. But if I’ve commented, liked or reblogged your fic it’s because I really truly enjoyed it 💜💗💜

And it’s like some sort of miracle that you guys give us this..for FREE…just to share and enjoy. What a gift; when my head feels out of control I can come here and quieten it down with your words.

💜 THANKYOU 💜

and if anyone took the time to read this brain spew then double thanks ❤️💜

If you do fancy looking at some shitty edits then I’m @enduringandsurviving on the clock app

Here’s to 2024 and all that Pedro. There’s a chance I may self combust at some point.

I thought G2 was going to do it but I’ve a sneaky suspicion that I won’t make it past Freaky Tales 🤣🤣🤣

#personal #my random thoughts

[dyemelikeasunset]

So did you two got married? If so congrats, if not congrats anyway your relationship gives me good vibes and joy

Not officially yet, we just decided that like... after 14 years together we were a little tired of calling each other girlfriends lol

((The answer gets a little angsty from here, so feel free to stop reading! I'd put it under a read more but mobile Tumblr is honestly absolute shit I'm bout to throw my phone lol))

EDIT: I"M ADDING THE READ MORE LMAO

We've denied ourselves a lot of official titles because we kept getting pulled apart by life and well, to a degree I'm still a little closeted bc of unaccepting family and Bee's side downplays our relationship a lot even if they accept and love me. We're always being treated less "official" even though everyone knows we'll be together forever so we wanted to start manifesting it. Even if we haven't gotten the paperwork done I've sincerely known she would be my forever girl about a year into the relationship so I decided not to wait on a shitty government to tell me it was true. So yes, we're married.

((And now THIS part of the answer gets spiritual and if that makes you uncomfortable please feel free to stop reading))

I'm Muslim and traditionally a lot of Muslims are more used to arranged-ish marriage and you basically have a bunch of talks with your marriage candidate and decide if they seem reasonable enough to commit to your whole life. A lot of non-Muslims find it inhumane or whatever, but sincerely for me, I understood after meeting Bee that yeah that's completely possible. I made that commitment to her a couple months getting to know her and I made that vow to my God and my religion a long, long time ago. I hope Allah accepted it, but I already made the decision that I would approach my relationship with her the way other straight Muslims do, and quietly dedicate to give the rest of my life to her. On my end and in my heart and soul, we've been married 13 years now

#long post / #text heavy / #i love this girl #ill add that fucking read more when im on the computer #why am i so damn verbose huh

[dark--whisperings]

✨✨✨✨🫱Care to share🫲✨✨✨✨

The message was sent to you because someone loved your writing and stories. ❤️

▪️What are your writing suggestions for newcomers, or what would you have liked to know when you first started?

▪️How do you write different personalities and perspectives? Could you explain how you came up with the manner you written your favorite or any character?

▪️What do you do when you have writer's block?

▪️How do you come up with new ideas and develop them?

▪️Any messages for your readers or fellow writers?

You are welcome to answer if you have the time and desire, or you can simply respond to the questions that come to mind.

💐Thank you for your work as a writer and as a member of this fandom!💐

OMG anon, what a sweet message! Absolutely made my day! I'm so glad that you liked my fics. ✨💖🥹✨💖🥹✨💖🥹 And wow, these are some great questions!

Extremely long response under the cut because I simply... have no chill LMAO.

What are your writing suggestions for newcomers, or what would you have liked to know when you first started?

It's so daunting to post your first fic for so many reasons, but just... go for it. Write what you want and fuck what anyone else thinks. Writing should be something that you do because it gives you joy, and you shouldn't cater the things you write to align with popular tropes (unless those are things you actually feel inspired to write). Guarantee that somewhere out there, you made someone's day with your fic, even if they didn't comment. Fanfiction and writing are about creativity and giving yourself permission to meet yourself where you are, whether that's being silly, escaping the shittiness of the world for a few hours, exploring something deeper and more vulnerable, revolting against canon, or whatever else.

Also on that vein, leave kudos, comments, and asks for your favourite authors! As much as we like to say that we write for ourselves, it also is immensely helpful to receive positive feedback. It doesn't need to be a hugely detailed comment... keyboard mashing and emoji flailing are just as important. As a writer (and reader!), support your fellow writers! Don't be afraid to interact with people you recognize on your socials... we're just seven monkeys in a trench coat on a good day, and typically love flailing about fandom with others. Being able to chat and create with other creators and fans online has been an incredible experience for me. (I'M STARING AT YOU MY MUTUALS 👀👀👀)

How do you write different personalities and perspectives? Could you explain how you came up with the manner you written your favorite or any character?

Oooh this is a fun one! I actually prefer to switch POVs in my writing, because I like to play with the concept of an unreliable narrator on both sides, and then switch abruptly give the reader insight into other characters perspective. I think it's a fun experience as a reader.

As far as characterizations, I think about the differences in how they might act, how they speak, their mannerisms, and right down to the differences in their vocabulary. For example, Anakin is more likely to be blunt and say exactly what's on his mind, whereas Obi-Wan is more likely to use more interesting words and gilded speech. Adding these pieces is usually part of my editing process to! I'll typically start by getting the plot and words on the page, and then edit the characterizations in later.

... and then, you know, sprinkle in some of my own head canon for the characters. Because 😇✨creative license✨😇.

What do you do when you have writer's block?

Writing sprints in a fandom server! Honestly, sometimes I'm stuck simply on principal, and sprinting gives me the motivation (because I'm the type of person who works better under pressure). If that doesn't work, I try switching to a different WIP or chatting with a friend about it (you'd be surprised how effective a simple conversation with your beta can be). And barring that... look for a beta project. I actually started out in fandom as a beta, and I find that a brief switch between writing and editing can kickstart the creative juices!

How do you come up with new ideas and develop them?

Music. Sometimes lyrics give me ideas for new project. But a lot of the time, it's the feel of certain songs that inspire ideas for new fic. Sometimes, I write from experience, or write about things I'd like to experience. In a lot of cases, writing is a very personal experience for me. I also very much enjoy participating in the fandom prompt festivals. There's just something about being inspired by a random prompt from a stranger and potentially making their day. 💟💟💟

Any messages for your readers or fellow writers?

Just that I love you all, adore the obikin fandom, and am incredibly grateful for the experience I've had so far. This has been the best fandom experience I've ever had (and I've been kicking around online for 15 years now). I wouldn't change it for anything, and it wouldn't be possible without the dedicated creators and lovely readers to cheer us on! 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Also if you feel inclined... drop me an anon ask with links to your favourite fics if you would like! Bonus points if it's a fic you wrote and are proud of. I want to read all the things, and maybe have a party in your comments!🫂🫂🫂

#ask answered #ask #asks for darkwhisperings #obikin #anakin skywaker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Doing good (Issue 34)

Moon Knight, Issue # 34: Primal Scream

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Bo Hampton. 

And Bonus short: The Vault of Knight

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Richard Howell.

Let's stop for a second. Take a little comic history lesson tour. 

This is not written by the usual Moon Knight team. 

Let's get into a little Moench history here and why he left. 

He did not really get along well with the then Marvel Chief editor James Shooter. Understandable. Here’s why: 

James Shooter got his start writing for DC then moved to Marvel. During the 70s and 80s, Marvel was experiencing a huge boom in content and new titles (like Moon Knight!) 

Further more, Stan Lee stepped away from monitoring comics to heading the animation works in LA right when Shooter became the cheif, leaving him fully in charge. 

Many felt that Shooter ran the place like a dictator, but there had been a huge influx of missed deadlines and Shooter put a stop to that. 

Despite keeping things running and overseeing a lot of new and important titles, he also alienated a LOT of long-time Marvel creators. 

Many of the long-time creators, like Moench, left Marvel to join with DC, who had a new editor. (He got to write for Batman!) 

NOTE: Shooter also enforced a policy forbidding the portrayal of Gay Characters in the Marvel Universe. In fact, the ONLY and first portrayal of a gay themed comic was of gay men attempting to rape Bruce Banner in the YMCA (which Shooter himself wrote), thus making Marvel to be widely considered Homophobic throughout Shooter's reign. (You should look into the history of LGBTQ+ in comics. It's a ride.)

I would like to point out that Moench's last issue during this time was about a reporter that was obsessed with making her deadlines and who wrote shitty pieces that were praised but awful and caused harm and eventual death in one character she wrote about. HMMMMM. 

When did he leave? Sources say the end of 1982, but those that understand the publishing timeline will note comic publish dates don't match the date they reach the shelves. 

So what is the official last Moon Knight Comic Moench worked on?

Let me put it this way... We aren't going to see Moench anymore for the 1980s run. 

He DOES come back for a bit later on, but it's short lived for a couple of limited run editions.

(And this is all new knowledge for me, who thought he originally finished the 1980s run and now I'm looking at an earlier review I did out of order because I'm an idiot and realize I've made a grave mistake.... Oh joy.) 

Farewell my sweet writer Doug Moench. Hats off to you. 

Now! That out of the way, let’s take a look at the first step we truly take away from Mr. Moench. 

For some reason, any time a guest writer sits in for early Moon Knight, they feel the need to over explain the character and introduce his past. Almost as if they were trying to explain who they are writing or getting a grasp on it for themselves. 

This is also a special double large edition. Another cause for writers to try to over explain characters as Marvel expects a bigger issue to draw in new fans. 

However, this is an odd story to push on the hopes of new fans. 

Let’s get into it! 

Yep. We open with a fast recap on who these characters are. 

It leaves me wondering what happened when Moench left. Did he have a script written out? Did he have to give notice and they knew he was leaving and this writer was already on the backburner? Or was this done in a hurry to get a planned comic deadline out on time? 

I would ALSO like to point out that when Bill left, he got a send off. Moench did not get a send off. He just disappears from the credits. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. 

"He was born Marc Spector and Spector wasn't a very nice man...Not so much evil as callous...A mercenary whose concern was reserved solely for himself and his Bankbook. 

That man could never have come to this deserted industrial wasteland on a mission made of equal parts mercy and vengeance." 

I disagree. Marc would be all over vengeance in a deserted wasteland. 

"Steven Grant could have. You've read about Grant... The committed millionaire about town...A pretty defendable guy as the upper crust goes. Still... 

Grant couldn't have found this place without Jake Lockley. Jake is the eyes and ears of Grant and Spector...A cabbie whose heart pulses to the beat of the city." 

Putting a bit on Steven, but he'd want to do good. But a gritty back alley is not really his style. 

"Ready for the kicker? Spector, Grant, and Lockley are all the same man...A man you know better as..." 

(A side note... We see Moon Knight running through a warehouse complaining it smells like a sewer. HE WOULD KNOW. And then he's startled by a cat. This is hilarious to me for so many reasons.) 

And that leads us to the title page where a young man is leaking off the crates above to tackle Moon Knight. 

"Frank? Hate to do this to a hopped-up kid, but the quicker I put him down...the less chance of his getting hurt! Though when I think of what he did to Gena..." 

He tosses Frank across the warehouse. 

Moon Knight again alludes to the damage this kid did to Gena's diner after getting high on some new 'junk'. 

Moon Knight is about to call in to Frenchie to get the medics out to take care of the hopped-up kid when the kid takes off. 

He isn't worried. The fight has been knocked out of him and the police shouldn't have an issue. 

Now we head back to the diner where we find Jake having a cuppa wihth Gena and Crawley. 

Crawley is talking about "The Raiders" which is a young men's social club (read 'Gang'). They are known to be brutal and even the police are afraid of them. 

Gena mentions about how she never raised her boys to run in gangs. Out back, we see Frank leading a group of gang members up to the back door of the diner. 

The gang busts in and attacks the patrons, demanding food. 

Jake isn't about to lay down and let it slide. 

He clocks one of the kids and worries about his friends. 

"Gotta get over to Crawley and Gena fast! They're not used to this kind of action!" 

Jake's heart is made of gold. 

One of the kids jumps Jake, growling and snarling. 

"A for effort, punko, but I've seen a real werewolf up close--And all you've got in common with him are lousy table manners!" And Jake flips the man off. 

Frank jumps on Genna while Jake is preoccupied. He cries out that he's hungry and he bites into her arm. 

Her cries distract Jake and someone bashes him on the back of the head, knocking him out. 

On waking up, Jake immediately asks how Gena is. He finds Gena loading up into an ambulance. 

"His name is Frank... So much for my perfect record. Find him before the police do, Jake." 

"I...Understand. I'll make sure the boy isn't harmed." 

"You don't understand! I want that ungrateful little maggot harmed! I want him harmed so badly he won't ever be able to walk upright again! I treated that boy like family! He treated me like today's hot lunch special! Get him for me, Jake! Bring me his stinkin' head on a platter!" 

Jake's pretty irked about Gena getting hurt, but... 

"But that's not what Moon Knight stands for, is it? I'm the agent of vengeance, not vengeance itself." 

That’s an interesting thought for Jake to have. Jake who so often slips out to let the others handle the Moon Knight mission. He trusts that they can handle things. But what is the difference between being an agent of vengeance and vengeance itself? Perhaps, looking to another comic is where we see that line and the difference between Moon Knight and the Punisher. 

He sets out to find Frank and his gang. He hopes having Frank brought in will help Gena. 

"Because I never want to look into the eyes of someone I care for and see so much hatred and despair there. I've seen it too many times before... Within myself." 

So this issue I’m just going to be crying over Jake the whole time. Okay. Good to know. 

Back at the diner, Gena is out of the hospital and facing her fears. 

Moon Knight is searching the hideout of the Raiders. He fllows the smell till he comes across a delirious woman with some sort of chemical burn blotches all over her. 

Looking around, he realizes, Steven Grant has been here before. An old factory he had been trying to save to create jobs has fallen into ruin. 

The factory is left to rot and all the chemicals inside are left there as well. 

He radios to Frenchie to make sure medical is on standby. These kids have been living in the toxic waste too long. 

He asks if the police got anything out of Frank when they grabbed him. 

Yeah... they didn't get him. He got away. 

And he's still looking for food from Gena. 

Back at the diner, we see Gena trying to clean up on her own. 

She is skittish as she cleans but tries to tell herself that no one's coming for her. 

"Besides, I'm not gonna let anybody or anything chase me away from what's mine!" 

And that's when Frank breaks back into Genas’.

Moon Knight finds one of the kids conscious enough to talk. Alcaide, their leader, didn't let them leave the hideout. He found drums full of a top secret toxic waste that drove people wild and crazy. 

Moon Knight recalls that Grant had learned that the factory used to work for the government. 

"Grant saw that in their public records. But the Spector part of me can't help but wonder if they didn't also do some more discreet research for the feds." 

Bingo bango. He finds the drums, filled with "Primal Project" chemicals. 

Oh! time for a Marc Spector flashback! 

"Spector was working for the feds at the time, escorting a man named Wenzel through a south American jungle..." 

They were heading to meet up with a professor in Manaus (that’s in Brazil!) to shut down the Primal Project. 

"It was supposed to slow a man's thinking process...Make him docile...Easy to handle. Something went wrong." Wenzel talks about the project. 

Marc stops them in their tracks. He hears something stalking them from the trees above. 

A creature leaps at them and Marc fires his gun. 

The beast is hit and lays dead. Deformed and animalistic. 

Marc asks if this is the work of the professor they're heading to see. 

"Spector...That IS the professor." 

They reach the campsite to find men dead across the site and more creatures running around. 

They are attacked adn have to fend off the beasts. They ended up blowing up the site to get rid of the beasts and the remaining chemicals. 

Apparently not all the chemical was destroyed. 

Now, Alcaide, the gang leader, approaches, fully a beast now. 

Back in the diner, Gena fights for her life. 

The cops have arrived at the factory and the paramedics are working on the gang. 

Moon Knight still battles the crazed beast and so does Gena. 

The next day, Jake stops in to see Gena. 

Most of the kids will make a recovery and their lawyers claim they were unter the influence of the Primal toxin. 

Gena is still shaken deeply. 

"I trusted Frank like he was one of my own, Jake...And every time I come in here all the pain comes back. Maybe it wasn't all his fault, but nobody forced him to join that gang. And is it right that I can't walk into my own diner without getting sick?" 

Jake tries to comfort her. Or perhaps, he reaches out to her in a way that he wishes he could with himself and with Marc. Because he knows that it does eat them up. It eats Marc up every day. He isn’t sure if it will ever stop eating them up.

"No. But you're too good a lady to let this eat you up forever." 

"Yeah... I'll work it out."

Poor Gena. 

She shoos them away. She needs to lock up for the night. 

This story is beautiful. This one time special guest writer, Tony Isabella and artist Bo Hampton really did a beautiful job here. 

They manage to keep the usual Moon Knight pace and story feel. We have Jake trying to protect his people. We have Gena facing a kid she helped to raise up, despite him not being her own, joining a violent gang and hurting her, we have Governmental neglect to clean up their mess and doing experimental biochemical weapons on unsuspecting people (a thing that really did happen in ‘Nam), we have economic failure for the factory that lead to the failure to clean up the toxic chemicals, and then we go back to Gena who is now facing trauma. 

No one in this story won. No one goes home feeling good about the day. They just have to pick themselves up again and move on. And they shouldn’t have to. Yet here they are, facing it all alone. 

This moves us to the short story afterwards. "The Vault of Knight." 

This is a weird one. Stranger still is that the short is written by the same person who wrote the main line. That’s pretty rare. Usually the short is done as a commission to be filler or bonus issues. 

Weirder still is the way it’s presented. A commentary on the main storyline! I've seen it done before. It's sort of like the Watcher to the audience. 

We have a strange looking character that addresses the audience. He's dressed like a baseball catcher with a Cubs cap on. Fitting. 

He calls himself "The Score-Keeper". 

And this... Let me tell you....

"Aloha, Adventure-addicts! Was twenty-four pages of gratuitous Do-Gooding enough for you...Or does your Hero-Habit demand even more of (yawn) Moon Knight's exciting escapades? I'm your sinister statistician, The Score-Keeper, and what I wanna know is... 

What is this Turkey in his cowled skivvies accomplishing? Does he really make a difference? Let's add it up. You can't lie to a Scorecard!" 

Interesting. A common question that pops up in Moon Knight comics. 

"Take last story for example. Sure he put ONE gang of teen terrors out of commission, but what's he doing about the rest of the anti-social adolescents in this city?" 

We see Moon Knight on a stakeout, waiting where someone's been hitting the same place for a week. 

The someone is two punks that dress up like werewolves and rob the shops in the area. In fact, they've hit five places in the past week alone! 

They hit a store where an old man cowers in fear....Until Moon Knight swoops in and knocks the thugs out. 

"You...You're that Moon Mensch fella! And you came into MY shop to save me from those Gonifs." 

"It's sort of my job." Moon Knight pauses. 

"Nu? To you, it's maybe a job. To me, if my store gets robbed, maybe I don't eat that night. So I thank you a lot, you and your job." 

"Friend, it was a mechaieh." 

Oh boy oh boy oh boy you have no idea how happy I am to hear Moon Knight say THAT. 

Back to the score-keeper, he's not impressed. "Why can't these heroes ever save Bloomingdales?" 

And the score-keeper starts talking about Gena and the previous issue. 

"What about Gena? One of Moon Knight's own team and he couldn't prevent what happened to her in this issue's other story. I don't think she's over it yet." 

We see Gena's boys Ray and Ricky head into the diner. 

"What did you want to talk to us about?" 

"I...I was talkin' to your uncle Rollie today, the one with the big restaurant out in Houston and he...Well, he kinda offered...I mean..." 

Score-Keeper scoffs. 

"Way to go M.K. While you're brushin' up on your Yiddish, one of your closest friends is bookin' this urban paradise. Maybe we should ask the rest of your little outfit what they think of you..." 

And this cracks me up because we get Frenchie, Marlene, and Crawley. Each one speaks of a different altar. And Frenchie is just SO pissy about it and so protective of Marc... He calls him his friend. Marc could always count on Frenchie back in the day. 

I’m…Not going to get into the “Faces of Eve” thing. It’s… A lot. But it was the big DID story and eventual movie that came out around this time that somewhat inspired a loose input into the creation of Moon Knight having DID. 

"You ask me, you care more about these guys than you care about Moon Knight." 

A misnomer. These people are what makes Moon Knight and keeps him going. In his adventures, helping him, and even when he fails them, they stay with him. 

Score guy jabs at it, noting that Moon Knight hasn't protected any of them. 

Frenchie's girlfriend, Marlene's brother, Crawley's son... 

He moves on to Detective Flint. 

Flint waits for him in a back alley. 

"Something happened --Didn't want you to read about it in the papers first. That Alaide kid you brought in was found dead in his cell an hour ago." 

"Yeah, that would've ruined my Breakfast all right." 

(Honestly, Jake is the one that reads the morning paper and eats breakfast. Jake would have been upset.) 

"Wasn't anybody's fault, guy. You know how crazed the kid was --He strangled himself before anyone could get to him." 

"That supposed to make me feel better?" 

"No...This is. It's the room number of the officer that was injured that night." 

Moon Knight pays the officer a visit. The officer is surprised to see him, thinking that he might not come. 

"Flint tells me that storage drum busted three ribs. I'm sorry. Maybe if I'd moved a little faster..." 

"It's all part of the job. But I don't have to tell you that...

You know, I figure you're pretty much a regular guy under that mask. Weird clothes, but no special 'powers'. I'll be honest... This job scares me a lot, like all the time. I was shaking when I went into that warehouse." 

Sometimes he doesn't see the good he does. 

Sometimes all he can see is the pain he leaves behind. Blaming himself for the pain of his friends. 

Maybe he doesn't really understand why this Daniels is thankful for him. But maybe in this moment he thinks it might be worth it. It might be why he is still trying. 

Back to Score-Keeper. It's time to add up the score. 

"Is Moon Knight doing any good or is he just swinging against the wind?" 

He looks at the results and seems surprised. Ripping up the scorecard, he tells us to figure it out for ourselves and leaves. 

A weird story, but I'm not mad at it. It ties into the main story line, shows the aftermath of what happened, and still shows their friends standing by them. 

It also lets Moon Knight take a moment to feel appreciated. 

And it does ask a question that Moon Knight has asked time and time again. “Am I doing good?” 

Is he causing the harm or is he just shouldering the blame because of his past traumas? The question remains over the years as things become more and more broken for them, and the answer has always been there. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for them to see it… or accept it. 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Pleasantly surprised

[ronsenthal]

hi! do you have tips and advice for making gifs? i love your gifs so much!

awww thank you so much, that really means a lot to me as I'm still rusty and a bit insecure because I've learned how to make gifs like 10 years ago? things didn't changed that much in terms of method and yet it's still scary, but at the end people like you make it worth!! 🥺🥺🥺

a little disclaimer: I'm colorblind, I can see colors okay! but I just see them a little bit different than most people so sometimes my edits may seem a little weird and that's the reason

Okay It will definitely be a long answer so I'll put under the cut ☺️

My advices would be:

- Just go for whatever scene you like the most, and try to focus on things you enjoy. I like to gif what I love, things I find beautiful as it gives me so much joy to look at the final result 😌

- Fortunately tumblr is full of people willing to share their knowledge and skills and there is lots and lots of blogs with the main theme being tutorials or even inspo and sources, so I always try to follow them to keep up with whatever is trending and just to learn new tricks and tips, some of my faves are @completeresources @gifmakerresource @allresources and @chaoticresources

- Be patient with yourself, if you are trying a tutorial and it is giving you a hard fight you can always stop and try again another time. It happened to me more than once that a tutorial or a particular idea I was trying gave me such a bad fight that I ended up so frustrated, exhausted, angry and feeling shitty but then I would pick another time to give it try and the thing worked hahahaha, so don't forget to respect your time and wellbeing

In terms of tips and tricks:

- Always use high quality videos, like the best quality available as it really makes a difference in terms of the final result

- Oh always resize your gifs!!! I use the crop tool and then I adjust the image size to keep it high quality, I think this is BY FAR the best tutorial as it explains quite well if you are new to editing

- So far I have tried many many different methods over the years, my fav is to cut the scenes I want to edit and for this use any video editing software really and after choosing a couple of scenes I import all of them to Photoshop (my version is the 2022 edition) and then I use the video timeline method (i don't really remember where I learned it but I found this really good tutorial that might be helpful)

- I slow down the gifs I make (idk how to explain it in english I'm sorry) but I set the speed for something in between 50% to 70%, depending on the scene

- In terms of colouring I don't really have a specific preset or fav PSD, I adjust them one by one just trying to focus on what the scene gives and then I work my way around it depending on what I'm trying to achieve or how do I want my gifset to look like (a good example was the Ron one on my last gifset i didn't wanted to look so yellow as it would be too different from the other gifs, it was a nightmare) BUT I guess I tend to use lots and lots of adjustment layers like I start with brightness/contrast, curves, and levels and then I proceed to selective colors, hue, vibration and saturation, sometimes I even use gradients and/or solid color layers with different blending options like soft light, overlay, opacity and fill settings to correct colors (I always use the color wheel principles of opposites and/or complementaries)

- Use smart sharpening!!! Peopel are so brilliant that they gave us actions, it is literally just a click away from all the trouble to do it manually, and it speeds up my process. Personally I have been using this amazing one I found quite recently, and it's really doing wonders to my edits

anyway thank you so much for being so kind and supportive, my ask box and dm are always open if you have any doubts or just want to exchange ideas. Really hope it helps you ❤️

#a little bit of jessica #asks #anon #mr*

[spacedustmantis]

a shitty song cover a day - day 11

didn't have any particular song i wanted to play today so have the first ever song i learned on the ukulele

can you tell i don't do warmups before hitting record?

rules:

one song every day. it doesn't have to be a long one (this rule is temporarily put on halt bc my brain's been a bit funky)

a different song every day (this rule might be more of a guideline. if i ever run out of songs i will recycle)

no backing tracks, no editing, no nothing. just me and my uke

no re-dos. i can practice for a bit beforehand, but the first recording i do i'll have to stick with. this is the most important rule. it keeps me from giving into the perfectionism

taglist:

@wings-of-flying

@chaos-caverns

@navysealt4t

#also yes i know #riptide #like the campaign #haha #buggy thoughts #buggy music #asscad

[mothgodofchaos]

Chase

I'm not usually one to write for him, but this prompt was too good to pass up. It hurt, but in a good way.

Chase Brody x GN!Reader, TW: death mention, car accident mention Words: 1221

It had been what, years? Years since you spoke with him. The break up was harsh on you both, and you knew that he had moved on, even had a kid. There wasn’t anything there anymore, there shouldn’t be. But yet, you felt the need to text him on that particular night. Something itching in the back of your mind. You were both young, still in highschool. He had talked about making a life with you, you were the one who encouraged him to start “Bro Average” in the first place. At first you were both going to be in it, but you found more passion and excitement framing the shots, editing. It was a two person team.

But then life went south, and you both were burned from the fallout. You were both at fault for it, but it allowed for both of you to grow up, separately, become your own people. 

The drive to the coffee shop where the two of you were meeting was spent listening to the songs you both used to blast on his car’s shitty radio, singing offkey at the top of your lungs on your way to a new location to film. It brought you back to when times were simpler, when you could just exist as teenagers. 

You pull into a spot, waiting for a few moments for the song to finish. It felt wrong for you to just cut it off abruptly, and it gave you a little bit of hope that maybe this will go well. You don’t know what to expect, frankly. It could go a million different directions. What do you even say when you haven’t spoken to each other in a little over a decade? It was a miracle in and of itself that neither of your phone numbers had changed. 

The bell above the door jingles as you enter the small coffee shop, the bitter smell of the roasts filling the air bringing a sense of homeyness to the shop. Soft jazz played over the speakers, industrial decor mixed with the hardwoods making it feel very modern. You both would’ve hated this place when you were younger, it being too “mainstream” for either of you. Oh how you both had grown.

Chase sits at one of the tables, fiddling with the straw wrapper for the coffee they gave him. Your eyes meet and he gives you a smile and a wave. He looks tired, older, more grown into his features. Eye bags betray his cheerful smile, making the joy on his face look like only a mask. You notice his hands, his wedding band missing. For being in his thirties, he looks like he’s been worn down for much longer than a decade. He still wears the same stupid snapback he would wear, one you’d steal from him and wear as he chased you around for it. “Hey, it’s good to see you again.” “It’s been, what, ten, twelve years?” “We were definitely still kids. I think it was that summer after graduation.” “Wow, how the time flies, much more innocent, blissfully ignorant and happy.” He says it with a bit of pain in his voice, one that you pick up on. You order your coffee on your phone as the two of you talk and catch up. He speaks about his late wife and child, a car accident having taken them both a few years back. You offer your sympathies, but he seems to wave it off with another small smile. “I’m okay, but thank you for your condolences. I’m trying to move on from that time of my life. It was four years ago, I can’t stay caught up on it forever.” “If you think that’s what's best for you. You were always the one ready to move onto the next project or video when we were younger.” That seemed to get a genuine chuckle out of him as he stared down at his drink. He swirls it in his hand before taking a sip, pausing to collect his thoughts.

“I was just following the dopamine, everything is exciting when you have the world at your fingertips and you don’t know any better.” “Agreed. Highschool was a much simpler time, but I don’t regret the time that allowed us to grow as people. I don’t know if I’d want to be the same person I was twelve years ago.” “Me neither. I miss the way I felt about things, but I’m working on looking at life like that again.” There’s a bit of an awkward pause between the two of you, looking anywhere but each other. “So, are you expanding your dating pool again now that you’re trying to put yourself out there again? As a form of, moving on?” “Yeah. Tried a few dating apps here and there, but nothing is the same as just going out and meeting new people the old fashioned way.” “Agreed. I’ve been so consumed in my work, it feels like I barely have time for myself anymore. I hope this promotion will give me more time. I have to be on call, but the managing position has given me so much more free time to do things I enjoy again. I recently picked up photography again, done a few weddings this past month.” “You were always good with a camera. The whole reason why those early videos looked good.” “Oh yeah, that channel was like our child. Gods, what I’d do to do something like that again.”

“We could revive it, if you wanted to.”

You look at him for a moment, considering your options. The world has sort of, reset for both of you. Allowing for opportunities of creativeness while still having the stability you’ve built for yourselves.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that. I’d like to see you more often than once every twelve years.”

“Me too. Genuinely. I’ve missed having you around.”

“Me too, Chase.”

The silence returns, but there’s a bit of hope in the air between the two of you. A renaissance of what you had. You go to hold his hand, which he gently accepts into his grasp.

“I want to try again, Chase. As new people.”

“As new people.”

You tap your to-go cups together and drink as a form of cheers, him squeezing your hand. For the first time in over a decade, you get to share that same joy that you had with him all those years ago. That childish grin back on his face, a happiness that you two only felt around each other. The rest of the visit is spent laughing, not letting go of the others’ hand. It’s hours later when you both realize you should get going.

You hug him goodbye, and it feels so right. You look at each other with dopey grins on your faces, lingering for just a moment. Your eyes flick to his hat, taking it and placing it on your head as you get into your car.

“Oi! My hat!”

“You gotta chase me for it!”

You pull out of the parking lot with a wave and a grin he would’ve killed to see again. He had more hats at home, but he’d chase you to wherever you’d go to see that smile under the brim of his hat again.

#chase brody #bro average #chase brody x reader #jse chase #jse chase brody #jse chase brody x reader #jse egos #septic egos #iris project #sad dad #chaoswrites

[1-800-dk]

a potion for love ➥ xu minghao

ft. minghao

genre: angst im sorry | based off of a potion for love by aurora . shitty writing btw

"minghao," your voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. "what?" the boy beside you asked. you took a breath. "why did we fall in love?" you asked him. it was a question that had been on your mind for months, "I don't know" he answered simply.

you sighed and looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath before you started talking again. "I don't feel love anymore." you paused, "and I'm sure you don't either, we can't even remember why we fell in love! but if we could maybe, just one day, be able to feel love again then wouldn't that be great?" minghao nodded and looked back up at the stars.

"maybe." he responded. his eyes looking far away from your own.

you two sat in silence, watching the stars. both of you knew what this meant for you, you didn't want to admit it to yourself but it hurt, it hurt to forget why you two fell in love in the first place.

"I loved you minghao," you said softly. you saw minghao's gaze land on yours.he smiled and replied "i loved you too." you smiled back.

"it hurts doesn't it?" minghao looked away "forgetting why we fell in love hurts me the most," he admitted.you gave a weak laugh. it wasn't out of joy or happiness it came out as a bitter laugh.

"i guess i should go now," you stated standing up and brushing off the dirt and grass off your clothes. minghao stood up and grabbed your hand. you looked at him in surprise.

he held onto your hand for a few seconds before letting go.

"when I see you again as a stranger or a friend, could you give me a kiss from the past? make it soft, make it last like a lake in a glass like an endless reminder of us.." he trailed off, his voice soft. you let out another laugh, this time it came out a little more genuine.

"of course, when I see you again as a stranger or a friend I will give you a kiss from the past, i will send you away, hoping you'll be okay with a piece of your heart living in mine."

it's 4 am I can't sleep so I wrote a shitty angst scenario !!! woo, i used some of auroras lyrics for this ZZZ I promise my writing isn't usually this bad im just tired 😭🤣 might edit it when i wake up though

#xu minghao #minghao scenarios #minghao angst #minghao #the8 scenarios #the8 angst #the8 #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #svt #kpop

[ambrossart]

The final part is still a major work in progress, but I should have it finished within the next few days or so. Also, I know I said it wasn’t going to be very long, but... nope, I guess I was wrong. 

Anyway, here’s a sneak peek of the intro!

Like I said, it’s an early draft, and it’ll probably get hacked up in the final edits, but it’ll give you an idea of what’s coming. A good chunk of the ending is from Eddie’s perspective, and I love it so much! 😍

Eddie was more than a little caught off guard when you suddenly wanted to join his summer D&D campaign. 

You were popular, you were on the volleyball team, and he was just the trailer park kid whose father was constantly in and out of prison. “Eddie Munster”—yeah, that’s what they called him (because he listened to heavy metal, dressed all in black, and had the pasty complexion of someone who hadn’t seen the sun a day in his life). He was confident that ninety percent of the student body had no idea what his actual name was. To them, he was simply Eddie Munster, the kid destined to spend his life behind bars.  

Needless to say, Eddie was a little skeptical when Jeff called an emergency meeting in the science lab two weeks before the last day of school. He said he had a friend (“Well, actually she’s my lab partner”) who was interested in joining their summer D&D campaign, an intense and insanely immersive three-month-long crusade that Scott Sloman spent the entire school year working on. It was his pride and joy, his magnum opus, and Scottie would never waste such a masterpiece on a new player. 

Unless, of course, that new player was a girl. 

Scottie’s wandering hands came to rest on a clumsy stack of ungraded quizzes. He picked it up and tap, tap, tapped the pages neatly into order. 

“Is she cute?” he asked Jeff, with no shame at all. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, Scottie, she’s not cute. She’s just really, really annoying.” 

Scottie said, “Oh, so you know her?” 

And Eddie felt his whole body recoil from that grossly incorrect assumption. “What?” he said. “No, I don’t know her. I just… I just know who she is, that’s all.” 

Eddie first saw you at the middle school talent show. Corroded Coffin had just finished their first performance in front of a live audience. They played Judas Priest’s “Rock Forever” because it was the only song the principal didn’t immediately reject for having violent, anarchic, or offensively unchristian messaging. 

“Why can’t you boys play something peppy, something snappy… you know, like The Beach Boys or The Beatles?” 

“Dude, fuck The Beatles.” 

Eddie didn’t care. He just wanted to play some music. Throw himself in it. Lose himself in it. Forget about his shitty, miserable life for just three and a half minutes. 

That night, in front of a packed audience of students, faculty, family and friends, Eddie Munson strummed the final power chord and felt the notes clash against each other and crash into a concrete wall of pure silence. The illusion had shattered. Eddie was back in reality. Grounded in it. Sinking in it like quicksand. He staggered back and looked out, shielding his eyes from the glaringly bright stage lights, and in the silence he heard a sound that made his stomach drop. 

Someone was laughing. Laughing at him. 

Eddie tracked the sound, his eyes darting anxiously around the faceless crowd, and he found you giggling in the third row with your hands over your face. Giggling yourself to tears. Eddie would never forget that sound for as long as he lived. 

“Oh, she’s that girl, huh?” Scottie swiveled around in the teacher’s chair like a movie villain. “So Munson’s little heckler has finally come to ruin D&D for him… Now that should make for a very interesting campaign. I like it. She’s in.”  

Eddie jumped to his feet. “Hey, you don’t get to decide that!” 

“Umm, I’m the Dungeon Master. It’s my campaign, and I’ll decide who plays it. Keep giving me lip, Munson, and you can find something else to do with your summer vacation.” 

“Fine,” said Eddie with a defiant shrug. “If she’s in, I’m out.” 

Grant gasped. “What? Dude, you can’t be serious.” 

And Jeff said, “Awww, come on, man! You can’t just skip the summer campaign. We’ve been looking forward to this all year.” 

Scottie called for silence with his hand. “Hey, if Eddie the Craven wants to run away from a twelve-year-old girl, let him. I mean Jesus, Munson, do you even hear yourself right now? So a girl laughed at you… Who cares? She’s not the first and she definitely won’t be the last. We’re freaks, dude. It comes with the territory. Either ignore it or embrace it like I do. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from girls.” 

“I’m not hiding from girls,” Eddie said. “I just… Look, why do we play D&D?”

Jeff said, “Because it’s fun,”

Eddie pointed at him exuberantly, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re damn right, it’s fun—it’s the best fucking game in the world!—but even more than that, it’s an escape, right? It’s the one time when we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, and we don’t have to worry about the cool kids making fun of us, girls laughing at us, being knocked around or thrown into dumpsters…” 

Scott looked over at Grant. “You still smell, by the way.” 

Eddie went on: “My point is, D&D is our only safe haven, you guys. And yeah, maybe one day we won’t need it so much. I mean, shit, maybe we’ll get to high school and, y’know, everything will magically get better. Maybe we won’t be seen as the freaks anymore. I don’t fucking know. But right now, we need it. And I’m telling you, if we let that girl in… if we let her into our safe haven, she’s gonna poison everything, man. She’s gonna make fun of our characters and laugh at us when we narrate their actions, and then we’re all gonna feel self-conscious and we’re gonna start to pull back, and then—shit—then the whole game becomes pointless. Then it’s just middle school all over again, and I don’t wanna deal with that all summer!” 

“She’s not joining to make fun of us,” Jeff said in a tired, pleading voice.  

Eddie didn’t believe him. “Oh yeah? Then why is she joining? Y/N doesn’t even like fantasy, so why does she suddenly wanna join our campaign? Huh? If not to make fun of us, then why?” 

Jeff’s mouth opened and closed helplessly. “Well, I… I don’t… Hey, you’d have to ask her that, man. I’m just the messenger here.” 

Scottie huffed impatiently and spun around in his chair. “Oh my god, this is getting ridiculous now… Look, how ‘bout we just vote, okay? Is that fair enough for everybody? Everyone who wants to hang out with a cute girl all summer—”

“I already told you, she’s not cute.” 

“—a girl who Eddie claims is not cute, but honestly he’s probably just saying that because he wants to keep her all to himself. If that sounds at all appealing to you, please raise your hand now.” 

Scottie’s hand flew up as soon as he finished speaking. Then, slowly, Jeff’s hand went up as well. 

“And all opposed?” 

Eddie and Grant raised their hands. 

Scottie leaned back and put his feet on the teacher’s desk. “Well, it looks like we have a tie, gentlemen… and when there’s a tie, the Dungeon Master gets the final say, so…” 

“Dude, that’s bullshit!” Eddie shouted. “Gareth isn’t even here to vote.” 

“Well, that’s because Gareth is doing finger paintings in elementary school right now. He’ll get a vote as soon as he hits puberty, okay? Until then, I’m pulling rank here, and I say she’s in. There. It’s decided. It’s happening. Get over it, Munson. Jeff, go tell your cute little female friend she can join our campaign.” 

“You can tell her yourself,” Jeff said. “She’s waiting right outside.” 

Everyone cried out at once: “WHAT?” 

#sneak peek #dancing with myself #dwm #I finally get to write some middle school scenes #also I love scottie #ambrossart

[just-a-random-dead-thing]

~Lost and Found~ (Larissa Weems x Student!Reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

My undying love for this woman and her actress mixed with the honesty concerning lack of fics for her character has finally compelled me to publish something. This fic is completely self indulgent and probably not worth your time but if you for some reason feel compelled to read on, thank you and enjoy!

Chapter one (1k words)

Be warned this is very shitty angst and do not expect it to get better as I continue on. If anything expect it to get worse. Nothing for this chapter but please be warned moving forward this fic will discuss some triggering topics which will be made clear at the start of each chapter they appear. Also eventual smut you have been warned...or teased?

Finally thank you to my friend who edited this because it's the only reason it is semi-readable, they're the best <3

The rain drops raced down the cold slabs of glass, through which I watched the students running late to their classes. They sprint across the courtyard with books above their heads, sacrificing their notes for the sake of keeping themselves dry.

I hear a faint ringing. Noises blurring into high pitched radio waves as I tune back in, slowly coming to the right frequency to hear the disgruntled voice of my teacher calling my name. I say nothing in return.

Dragging my attention to the front of the class, where my teacher is writing something on the board pertaining to- werewolf procreation? Vampire sex ed? I can't keep up with the 50 different (and equally boring) lectures this man gives.

Once again I find my mind wandering off to far away places. Anywhere but this grey box, which traps me within its walls like a glass traps a spider. I have given up on any hopes of understanding today's topic of useless information, so instead I retrieve my book from my school bag and begin to read. The Outsider by Albert Camus, ironic and meaningless when you're in a school for outcasts.

I am half way through the chapter when my teacher's grating voice once again bursts any sense of joy I am experiencing in his class. This time I just can't be bothered listening to the lecture on the importance of whatever the fuck he's teaching so I get up and walk out. He continues to get louder the further I get out the door, so I flip him off for good measure. Come on, seriously! How are you that bad at your job I can't figure out the topic of today's lesson even when I put the effort in to try? If I require this much to even figure out what to put as the title of notes then your teaching certainly isn't important enough, and you aren't good enough at your job to keep me in that room any longer.

I slowly make my way through the empty halls of the academy, continuing to read as I venture back to my dorm. Thankfully, I don't have to share a room. If I had a roommate, they'd probably be dead within the week. Probably not on purpose, but you never know - I could have just been having a really bad day, and thought a light spot of murder would cheer me up.

I bang into something large, falling over my feet onto the cold stone ground. I reach to pick up my book, but before I can reach it, it’s plucked from the ground by a hand, which my eyes follow up to a very disapproving Principal’s face. Oops? What am I meant to say, sorry? It was an empty corridor, she could have easily walked around me.

She's always needlessly difficult for no reason.

"Y/N..." Weems says seething, scowl firmly fixed on her face. God, the annoyance is really seeping into her tone and body language today. Normally she at least keeps the plastic smile up, while passive aggressively giving you a lecture on how you've disappointed her, harmed the school community and destroyed its image. Hmm... the board must have cut her budget for the semester.

I meet her eyes, nearly breaking my neck in the process since she's over a foot taller than me. I smirk as I address her. "Headmistress...I didn't see you there, out for a morning stroll?" She scrunches her nose briefly at my coy attitude before replying, her words like venom.

"No Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, I'm actually coming to find you because once again you've managed to piss off the teaching staff, and I have to deal with the repercussions of them complaining about you."

Honestly, I only processed one thing she said, and that was Weems swearing. She's never done that before. Hot... definitely hot.

I chuckle with a reply. "Well looks like I've out done myself this time. I've got you in such a state that the perfect facade has fallen and you're even swearing, that's not very school appropri-"

I am interrupted part way through my gloating by a sudden sharp pain in my back. I come to realise I have been slammed against the rough wall of the corridor, causing the air to leave my lungs and leaving me helplessly gasping for air.

She leans in close with an almost deadly expression as she whispers, "This is my final warning. Make light of this situation again and I'll have you in detention with me every lunch, free, and evening for the week on top of whatever I am going to have to arrange for your other grievances.

“Skipping class and disrespecting the teaching staff - not to mention, myself - with your snarky comments and nonchalant attitude when it comes to your studies. You refuse tutoring despite being seriously behind on control of your powers - do you even know if you have any? You certainly haven't displayed any thus far throughout the two years you've been at this school.

“Sometimes, I seriously question why you chose to transfer to this school, and why I even accepted your application. It had nothing Nevermore looks for in a student and you've clearly shown you don't intend to work on that."

Listening to her words as they become increasingly more personally, tears prick the corners of my eyes but I do not allow them to fall. I refuse to show weakness towards this woman who knows nothing about me. My brief sorrow turns to anger, as I respond with possibly my last words whilst I'm alive, "Go. Fuck. Your. Self."

I desperately try to escape her grip, but just like a fly in a spider-web, it is hopeless. She is a foot taller than me and twice my weight. Her arm presses harder against my chest, air struggling to get in and out as the carbon dioxide begins to drown me. Blurred darkness slowly eclipses my view of her.

I mean, there's worse things to see in your dying moments.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday #wenclair #student x professor #marilyn thornhill #mortica addams #gomez and morticia #gomez addams #morticia x gomez #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #oc #character x oc

[thedreamlessnights]

🌿 !!

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity omg yes. so many things! for writer's block:

try to keep your writing space clean, if you can. having a clean space to work in does wonders for clearing up distractions in your mind and allowing you to write!

brainstorm with friends. a lot of times, i'll get stuck on something and have no idea where to go. bouncing ideas off of other people helps me get out of my head and get new perspectives, and helps so much! sometimes, when my writer friends are stuck, i'll even do a 'send me the last sentence you wrote, and i'll write the next sentence for you to kickstart you' and then trade off!

writing sprints. this is a huge, huge, huge one for me! it's where you set a timer, usually for 15 minutes, and during that time, you write as much as you can. don't worry about editing, don't worry about it being bad, just get whatever you can onto the page for those 15 minutes. discord has an amazing bot for this called sprinto.

get what you can on the page. no one else is going to see it when it's in those early stages, so don't worry if it's terrible. it doesn't matter. it is always easier to fix something that's there than to attempt to work with nothing at all!

i've often heard the concept that motivation inspires action, but in all my experience, it's the opposite way around. sometimes you're not feeling it, but you push through, and you get into a flow. sometimes you start, and it's just not happening - you're tired, or burnt out. either way, it's okay! i like to strive for 300 words. just those 300 words. if i happen to want to continue, great! if i don't then i at least got those 300 words on the page, and that's 300 more words than i had before (and sprinting really helps with this!) for low creativity:

take care of yourself. this is another huge one! your brain needs proper food, rest, water, and recreation to function. you wouldn't run your car without any gas and expect it to drive, so don't do the same to your brain! your body is a machine, and it needs fuel to function properly. once the foundational requirements have been met, then your brain can start to worry about things like being creative.

this may not be helpful for everyone, but it is for me, so i wanted to mention it: read other books/fics. seeing incredible stories play out almost always inspires me. i believe that stories have a magic to them, and seeing that magic always makes me want to replicate the feeling i've experienced. it's like receiving a baldur's gate 3 inspiration - my mind shoots to a hundred, and i start having so many ideas about how i can make my fics extra special. i know this won't work for everyone, especially if you're liable to fall into the dreaded comparison trap, but i'm at the point where i'm alright, and seeing someone create a masterpiece makes me want to push that extra mile to make something amazing.

this is another one that might not work for everyone, but: give your brain the time and space to think. go on a walk without any music. sit with yourself in the quiet of your room. let your brain be without any distractions, and have the space to start spinning ideas. if you've ever wondered why you're suddenly motivated to write fic when you're about to sleep, this is probably why! you're finally letting your mind be still and process things, and that can often lead to creativity starting to flow.

this is a hard one, i know, but still: try very hard not to be self-critical. comparison is the thief of joy. telling yourself you're shitty won't actually make you a better writer. it'll just make you miserable, and leave a negative connotation attached to the act of writing. creation is an art! you have a story in your brain, and you're putting that down for other people to enjoy. we can always improve, but try to approach that need for improvement from a positive space, because all self-deprecation does is immediately shut down all the joy of making art ♥ you don't need to punish yourself for not being perfect. you don't need to apologize for being a beginner. start with where you are, and as long as you keep at it, you will always grow and learn along the way.

thank you so much for the ask! sorry if this got really long, i just had a lot to say lmao <333

#jams answers

[grogusmum]

You know how some museums (especially small ones) only ask for a donation. They suggest the amount that would help them best keep the lights on, pay everyone who needs paying and grow, if everyone who came in gave it...

but you can choose to give less or more, or nothing at all. We assume that those who don't give any or much have circumstances that make it such... because if they could support something they use and value, they would, right? Not to would be shitty. Because if everyone had that attitude, the doors would eventually close, or the museum's ability to put up new exhibits would dry up.

Did you know that it can be true that creators need to remember that they create for the joy of creating AND that interactions with those that consume those creations inspire more creating, at the very same time?

That our value isn't the tally of our followers or notes and at the exact same time, and it is good form for those that consume our creations to show that we are valued by them when they interact (especially reblogging since that is how posts thrive on Tumblr).

There are definitely note and follower counters out there. But I am telling you, every writer, artist, blogger, gif maker, etc that I know is interested in engagement for two reasons, and it's not to have the most notes, it's because we are a community. They want to talk about their art, and they don't want it to languish unseen or unread.

We are brimming with thoughts and ideas, bits of story that didn't make it into the final draft, and inspiration for a comic or drawing that we are dying to be asked about. More than praise, we want to know what hit your heart just right. What made you laugh. Cry. Yearn.

I write for myself, sure, but I remember who enjoys certain fics and think of them when I am writing the next chapter or one shot with their favorite character. I smile when I come upon some dialogue this reader will think is funny, or when I happen on a part that will make that reader melt...

This is why I share it with folks. Otherwise, it can just stay in my docs, or journal, or whatever, and I wouldn't worry about grammar or spelling or describing a place I know by heart or if I use a word redundantly...

We tell a story for ourselves... but we edit for our readers, making sure they picture it as closely to the way we imagine it. Getting the story down takes time, and one can argue that's time for you as it is your hobby, and remembering this makes writing a joy... but editing several times over (and still having mistakes, I know I know, sue me) this takes time, that is not a hobby. I am not an editor hobbyist. Formating it for Tumblr- adding warnings and word counts, tagging readers, etc. takes time, which is also not really part of the hobby. We don't "owe it to readers" but we do it to make it reader-friendly.

Please think about how you donate to your creators. The suggested donation is reblogging. Likes are appreciated, and comments help us grow.

#hazel ramblings #on the subject of engagement

[apoptoses]

This looks fun. Hope this isn’t too many questions at once.

💡how many WIPs do you currently have?

🔍does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

👻 what is your wildest headcanon?

💕 what is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

(for the fic writer asks)

💡how many WIPs do you currently have?

Well right now my 'wip' is just editing my big fic Blood Sanation and getting it out there. In my head I have three major ideas I want to tinker with and get out there. Which involve:

An unhinged pharmacy trip and sounding

An uhhinged hardware store trip and fisting

An exploration of how once Daniel gets over being starstruck, he's the first person in a long time who has treated Lestat as just a normal person

🔍does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

I don't really ask people to beta in the traditional sense. Instead I ask them to be a 'test audience' and will be up front with some question I need answered about the work. Things like 'do you feel like all the loose ends of conflict are tied up neatly?', 'do daniel's motivations make sense?', or 'does my description of X work?'

I find that having some specific things you want feedback on gets you better help with your work. Rather than just being like 'give me concrit' haha I think people are really afraid to give concrit for fear of hurting a friend's feelings (because let's face it, some people are RUDE and cruel with feedback, we've all had a bad experience once be it a shitty fic comment or a nasty professor). So you have to give them some parameters to work in.

My go to folks are @hekateinhell (for armand related needs) and @desertfangs (for daniel related needs) ♥

👻 what is your wildest headcanon?

Ahhh, this is so hard to answer without giving away anything that comes up in my fic!

That Armand is actually a good cook. I know, blender nightmares, haha whatever. At some point when he and Daniel began living together he picked up a copy of Joy of Cooking, demanded Daniel take him to the grocery store, and then proceeded to follow the instructions to the letter make him some good dinners. Half the time Daniel lived on take out because Armand had no patience and wanted to go out now, but the other half he was well fed and Armand really got a thrill out of presenting him with meals and tasting them via his mind.

Also he's a stickler for a properly set table. If Daniel is having fish for dinner there will be a fish fork on the table, he will have his bread plate in the correct place, he will get reprimanded if he sets his dirty knife on the table and not across the top of the plate as is polite. It's part domestic discipline games, part control issues, 100% a pain in Daniel's ass.

💕 what is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Currently it's Angle of Incidence because I feel like I really pushed some personal limits with that one. Writing a character who is roleplaying is hard! I had to have Armand in character not only with who he is at his core, but also with this 'doctor' persona he's putting on. And then he has to slip in and out of character to give Daniel some reassurance, all while leaving the reader guessing 'is this genuinely how armand feels or is he fucking with Daniel right now?'

Also the comments on it delight me. Having people either admit they didn't think they were into those kinks but that they trusted me enough to write it well and make them be into it, or admit they always had those kinks and were really wanting to see them in VC fic- that's such a compliment! It makes me so happy it was well received.

#apoptoses answers