#that story is my sole inspiration fuel at the moment

[fortheloveofbuddie]

Inspiration Saturday/Seven Sentence Sunday 💕

I'm baaccckk. It's been minute but I've been away with my girlfriend for nearly a week and it's exam season which means that I should be working on my paper. But here we are and I came up with yet another AU lol. Aaaand also made a moodboard for it

Tagged by @wikiangela @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @evanbegins @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz mwah mwah mwah 💋

Soldier/War Correspondent AU

(Story and tags under cut)

Staff Sergeant Eddie Diaz bears the visible imprints of a life spent in the crucible of war. His sun-kissed skin and prematurely graying hair are a testament to the countless deployments and the myriad of challenges he has faced since joining the army at the age of 18. Eddie's stoic demeanor hides the depth of his experiences, and his piercing gaze reflects the proud resilience of a man who has faced the horrors of conflict yet remains committed to his duty. Despite being a decorated soldier, Eddie carries the weight of survivor's guilt, unsure if he truly deserves the accolades bestowed upon him.

The St. Christopher's medallion, a cherished possession given to him by his ex-wife, dangles from a chain around his neck, providing a glimpse into the personal talismans that anchor Eddie amidst the chaos of war. As a leader, Eddie embodies strength, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to his comrades, his very presence a testament to the sacrifices made in the name of duty.

In contrast, Evan Buckley, a 32-year-old war correspondent exudes the confidence of someone who has navigated the complexities of journalism for nearly a decade. His hard exterior and sometimes perceived arrogance stem from a deep understanding of his own capabilities and confidence earned through years of reporting from the front lines of conflict.

Despite his outward confidence, he carries the weight of the stories he has witnessed, and beneath the bravado lies a journalist deeply affected by the human cost of conflict. His journey as a war correspondent is fueled by a commitment to shedding light on the untold narratives and fostering understanding in the face of global turmoil.

And a little snippet inspired by 3 x 15 and the music video from the song 'Gone Away' by Five Finger Death Punch (my babies ahhh)

The crackling radio broke the silence in the aftermath of the ambush, blood staining Eddie's face, hands and armor. The air was acrid and filled with the smoke from the crashed helicopter, parts spread all around him on the ground, only adding to the vision of destruction. Eddie could barely lift his head to grab his radio, Command trying to break through. The realization of him and his fellow soldier, Sergeant Anita Mills, being the sole survivors of the ambush was slowly sinking in as he brought the radio closer to his face, his voice weighted with grief as he spoke into the receiver.

"Command, this is Diaz. Reporting three K.I.A. We need-... Requesting extraction from our current location. I repeat, requesting extraction and confirming three K.I.A. Chief Jennings, PFC Binder and Sergeant Norwahl are gone"

Mills looked at him with sorrowful eyes, her chest rose and fell in a strained and heavy pace, her head hung low between her knees, the weight of her armor pressing against her throat, restricting her breathing but she couldn't care less about herself in this moment.

The reply from Command crackled through the radio, the voice on the other end offering condolences laced with the stoicism of military protocol. "Acknowledged, Staff Sergeant Diaz. Our thoughts are with you and Mills. Proceed with caution, and we'll arrange for extraction once the area is secure"

He nodded solemnly, his eyes fixed on the wreckage of the helicopter, a poignant reminder of the friends he had lost in the chaos of war. Eddie and Anita found themselves grappling with the weight of confirming the loss of three lives, the echoes of grief lingering amidst the unforgiving and darkening landscape.

tagging!! @honestlydarkprincess @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @athenagranted @butraura @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @jeeyuns @fionaswhvre @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @poughkeepsies @spotsandsocks 💗🦋

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on abc #oliver stark #ryan guzman #evan buck buckley #buddie wip #edmundo diaz #fortheloveofbuddie writes #buddie fic #the sun behind the storm (can you feel my heart?)

[amorfista]

I have some news to share ^^

A few days ago I had a revelation while at work.

For over 8 years I've been a big fan of the Dark Souls franchise. The first Dark Souls felt to me like a journey; a full-on immersion into an incredibly complex world, marked by disparity: old royalty, splendor, trust, hope, magic, nostalgia, wonder, gold, light... but also decay, dread, betrayal, horrors, darkness, death, monsters, disease, anguish. This game left a deep print on me that hasn't faded. Ever since I played it, fantasy changed in my eyes. Dark Souls I, II and III became a standard, a reference point. Even when I didn't draw as much as I do now, I aspired to one day pay good tribute to the games that meant so much to me! And, of course, I created fan art, but I always felt like I could have given more.

Now. As you probably know I'm also a big Star Wars fan, specifically TCW fan. And a few months ago I watched The Bad Batch for the first time. This show left a print in a very similar way as Dark Souls had before. It fueled my inspiration significantly, motivated me and, most importantly, helped me form friendships that I'm incredibly grateful for ♥. So... the other day, while I listened to some Dark Souls music at work, I thought...

Why not combine my favorite show with my favorite videogame franchise?

So that's it guys. May I present to you:

-The Bad Batch: Dark Souls AU-

That's it! That's my brilliant idea! XD This is going to be a project, a BIG one. So I would like to briefly (i promise i tried) explain how it will affect my content, under the cut: (I'll also drop some older DS artwork at the bottom!)

TLDR: From now on I will focus on TBB DS AU as my main and basically sole project . Even if you didn't play DS, that's okay! I will make it people-who-didn't-play friendly, to ensure everyone enjoys the journey. However, if this isn't for you, it's okay to unfollow <3 -I would say that, since I came to tumblr this early summer, my "signature" drawings are the TBB beach episode ones. I have WIPs for this project but I've been feeling stuck for far too long, so I am going to put it on hold. In fact, I am going to put on hold virtually everything that I was planning on doing, with a few exceptions. This means that I will rarely draw anything outside this AU.

-I am CLOSING commissions. I found that they put a kind of pressure on me that doesn't feel too good, and, honestly, I'm lucky to say that I do not need the money at the moment. I'm still open to requests, though, so don't hesitate to send anything and I'll draw it if I feel like it :) I'll even try to set up a store at some point!

-The project will consist on three journeys, featuring the 6 members of the Bad Batch, and corresponding with the three Dark Souls games. Each of those journeys will, more or less faithfully, follow the events of EACH season of TBB, adapted of course to the universe of Dark Souls, AKA Dark Medieval Fantasy. This means that, until the third season of TBB is released, I won't make any DSIII-related drawings.

-The journeys are adapted to the universe, and thus, will follow the real player journey as faithfully as I can, staying within DS canon and allowing people who have played the games to enjoy my drawings. However,

-THE DRAWINGS WILL BE 100% NON-DS-PLAYER FRIENDLY. I know that my followers are not DS fans but TBB/TCW fans. I am NOT here just to please DS fans. I want TBB fans to enjoy this journey, without having to google meanings or go easter-egg hunt to understand what is happening. I will tell a story and you will only have to enjoy it.

-This is a project for myself. Both DS and TBB mean A LOT to me, and this idea had me vibrating with excitement. I am making this project to PAY TRIBUTE to two things I love. However that does not mean that I will neglect the very people who have motivated me to keep creating. I promise to still deliver my very best with every drawing.

Do not hesitate to unfollow if this isn't for you.

I can understand that some people might follow me only for my wholesome beach episode drawings or for regular, HC TBB content. And that's okay. That's what this announcement is for! To let you know. This community has given me so much and I want to give back. And if you do stay, I can almost 100% assure you that you will enjoy what's to come!! <3 It will be a long but satisfactory journey. I'LL BE POSTING THE FIRST DRAWINGS IN THE UPCOMING DAYS!

OKAY, SORRY FOR THE WALL OF TEXT!!! 😖 Here are some older DS drawings ^^ (jesus I have way more than I thought and these aren't even all of them)

AIGHT. NOW YOU KNOW IT'S SOME SERIOUS SHIT WHEN I SAY I LIKE THESE GAMES.

Anyway. Including a taglist, because I think it would be unfair not to let you guys know about this project in case anyone wants out (or to not be tagged). Send me a DM if that's the case, it's NO PROBLEM!!! I wouldn't want to tag someone who doesn't want this content.

ALSO PLEASE, ANY QUESTIONS YOU MIGHT HAVE, TOSS THEM TO ME! And thank you kindly for making it this far <3

@dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @sev-on-kamino @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queen-jiru @shoe-bag @eyayah123 @eloquentmoon @and-loth-cat @ladyzirkonia @stardusthuntress @bambambunny @morphofan @gt13tbbart @amalthiaph @cameronirat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @anxiouspineapple99

#the bad batch #dark souls #TBB DS AU

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[endlessthxxghts]

Goodbye, 2023.. Hello, 2024!🥂

Hello, beautiful people.💚 2023 is now coming to an end, and although there is so much I have to say about these past 12 months at a personal level, I’ll try to keep it brief (in roughly 800 words LMAO) and stick to our beautiful fandom world I love so dearly. 

I am absolutely not new to reading fan fiction—to reading all these fucking amazing stories that keep my hyperfixations well-fed😅 As a matter of fact, for the majority of this year, that’s what my tumblr consisted of—purely reading😅 

What I am new to, however, is actually contributing to this beautiful fandom. I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve written a few tiny stories for myself in the past. I just never would’ve thought—on one random day in September—that I would post them for the world, and I never would’ve thought that they were good enough to be loved by so many of you. It baffles me—still, after every new story I’ve put out, I still get surprised and feel a tremendous amount of gratitude for the love you guys give to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I’m learning to love myself more and more every single day, and in that, I’m learning to appreciate my abilities. To appreciate the skill that I’ve honed, and in doing so, I want to give back in the way that I can—through writing stories that put the biggest of smiles on our faces that our cheeks hurt, through writing stories that we can see a figment of ourselves in it, through writing stories that make us feel a plethora of emotions but ultimately make us feel loved.

I don’t mention this often, but I am physically disabled, and because of that, I have to physically rely on another person to help me with everything—showering, feeding me, using the restroom, etc. Ever since I could remember, I vowed that I would give back to everyone in the only way I can: through my verbal abilities (hence why my career goal is to become a clinical psychologist💚), and—naturally because of that—through my writing abilities. My only hope in this world is that I can provide others with the warm and welcome feeling that I’ve been surrounded by all my life, even if I can’t take any action to do so. I’ll always find a way. 

But okay, I digress (this is me keeping it brief, I apologize). I also wanted to take a moment to specifically say thank you to those who read my work. I’ve only been posting and writing for you guys since late September—only a little over three months!—and I have nearly 800 of you constantly cheering me on and providing me with the sweetest of support I thought could never exist for someone like me. I seriously wouldn’t be here without you guys. You seriously have no clue what your words do to me; they are my driving force, the fuel that keeps me going, the hugs I need when a story gets a little too complicated for my easily-frustrated brain because I just want it to be perfect for you. Thank you. With my entire heart, my entire soul, my entire existence: thank you. I can’t wait to see where 2024 takes us. I love you all. So much. 

And I want to give a special special thank you to a few people—whether we message each other, or we just constantly have given each other unconditional support, or simply I just admire and am inspired by you—who mean so much to me. Your support and guidance as I began my journey is irreplaceable. I’ve learned so much from each of you in our own unique way, and I’m inexplicably excited to enter 2024 with you guys by my side. I’m truly honored to be able to know you, even if it is solely online. @katiexpunk @janaispunk @toxicanonymity @bearsbeetsbeskar @farmerlarrry @joels-shitty-puns @tightjeansjavi @mandoisapunk — All my love to you beautiful people, and I can’t wait to continue being one of your loudest cheerleaders throughout 2024.

And to @javierpena-inatacvest… I don’t know what I was expecting out of making my presence more known on this lil platform, but I definitely wasn’t expecting to make a best friend out of this. And I definitely wasn’t expecting a lifelong best friend, at that. You don’t know this, but you entered my life at a time that I was struggling. There was something I was missing… something I was needing. Little did I know, that something was you, and I’m endlessly grateful. Your existence in my life is truly one that is irreplaceable. I don’t know what I did to be so lucky—but whatever God or all-knowing being did this, I’ll be giving them offerings now and until the day I die. Thank you for letting me in, and thank you for letting my crazy ass be a part of your journey. I love you, friend.🌚💚

Happy 2024, everyone!! This will be our year for prosperity in every aspect of  our lives. I just know it. 

Endlessly yours, L. 💚

#endless thoughts fics #joel miller fanfiction #francisco morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #happy new year #i love every single one of you #giving all of you big wet slobbery forehead kisses

[owlyflufff]

not to drop a litle negativity here but I saw a haikyu ship poll to which personally, I don't mind if you like other main ships over bokuaka

if you like iwaoi more than bokuaka? that's valid! because it's your preference

kagehina over bokuaka? also valid! because again that's your opinion and I can respect it and so on for the other main ships

although in the very least, don't downplay/twist the canon material to prove that your ship is superior TvT. Furudate-sensei didn't canonically state that bokuaka were written to be foils to each other, both of them being each other's greatest inspiration in the OFFICIAL character sheet and have a well written dynamic for you to oversimplify what their dynamic amounted to at the end of the series.

for context, the haikyu ship poll that sort of spread caused tension cause they added extra captions like asanoya being a flop ship, iwaoi inventing love over bokuaka and the likes to which they also tweeted this:

personally I can respect op for liking iwaoi over bokuaka because that's their opinion + I love iwaoi chaotic childhood friends my beloved :'<< but for their argument to not give a proper reason/ water down bokuaka's dynamic is really saddening

so instead of cooking op since the quotes on the tweet are doing it (and I personally don't like starting/insulting anyone cause it just adds fuel to the flame than any actual progress) I'll just drop an actual list of evidence as to why this is wrong:

"They had like 5 moments"

bokuaka had more moments than solely 5 moments as op states and to make it fair I'll be removing bokuaka main moments this would include: iddle fleeting thought, we are the protagonists, give me your 120%.

It's important to note that most of bokuaka's main moments are found in Fukurodani's respective match. However if we remove these 3 pivotal moments than it still manages to disprove they had only 5 moments because bokuaka had a severe number of moments prior to this which would include the following:

a. Training camp arc: naturally bokuaka's introduction, bokuto doing a killer spike and immediately choosing to ask akaashi if he saw it, and of course the most well known moment of bokuto receiving an emo mode and alaashi not only knowing how to solve it but also that he knows bokuto's weaknesses, instills it in his mind

b. Post Training camp arc: albeit briefly, bokuto and akaashi were shown to which bokuto swears that he's been praise and akaashi brushes it off. despite being a brief moment, it shows alone that bokuaka hang out together in lunch or they are each other's company

c. Land vs Sky: it's been a while since I watched this so my apologies if my memory is rusty but I remember nekoma'a attempts of shutting bokuto down to which akaashi noticed + motivated bokuto

d. Nationals arc: this one naturally has the most but to simplify and at least show they had moments would be the little interactions they had throughout karasuno's matches, "THAT'S OUR TSUKI" "He's not ours Bokuto-san", akaashi being worried for bokuto and asking him to go back into the hotel due to the flu only for bokuto to bring it up again later on meaning he remembers akaashi's words, and naturally the entirety of the mujinazaka match that showed their backstories, established firther that bokuto cares about akaashi just as much and is attentive of him and the growth of their characters not solely as a pair but as individuals

With this, tell me then, did bokuaka only have just 5 moments? Even if you take away the moments bokuaka are most known for, there's still a SEVERE number of moments the two of them shared.

And dont get me started on timeskip because that's for the next point-

"bokuto never mentioned that man out of highschool?"

To put it simply, a good portion of the timeskip arc was the msby vs adlers match, this includes bokuto's appearance who mainly is in the story AT THE START OF THE MATCH. Meaning, there wasn't a window of opportunity for bokuto to talk about akaashi because Furudate-sensei had him and his main focus already at the match, there wasn't any slice of life tidbit as both teams went straight into the match after the bathroom confrontation. It would be very out of place if bokuto mentioned akaashi in the middle of a pretty intense match/it wouldnt have made sense for bokuto just randomly bring up akaashi while he's spiking during the match.

bokuto has in fact made a reference to akaashi during the match/post highschool. When hinata and atsumu unleash a killer spike against the Adlers, bokuto shouted "the first strike is always the most lethal!" (or something similar, I forgot the exact quote :'DD) to which is a nod and referencr to the EXACT same thing akaashi said during the inarizaki match. Not only this but mind you that bokuto shouted this WITH akaashi in two very DIFFERENT places. It implies that bokuto still remembers akaashi or references him and the things they tell each other all the way from highschool

the ultimate evidence is of course the post match because bokuto quite literally meets akaashi again when he gets interviewed. how does bokuto react? big smile on his face and invites akaashi to a meat date later on (I don't even mean to write this in a romantic context because the fact that bokuto wanted to hang out and spend time with akaashi in and of itself shows that akaashi is still relevant and important in his life)

There's so much more evidence to simply say that op's tweet is wrong but it would make this post severely long. Simply, it's one thing to choose, disrespect even, another person's ship but it's another to simply discard canon in the hopes of proving another ship is better.

Bokuaka are so much more than what they're iconic moments dictate them for, I mentioned it once but I'll say it again: the fact that they're not even childhood friends or in different years yet still grounded in a dynamic of trust and respect that carries to the years is impressive and just shows why they're a very beloved ship in the community in the first place.

#eli rambles #long one too sorry ;-; #this is why I don't engage in polls esp cause it's stirs drama #but them downplaying bokuaka's dynamic was not it :'D #bokuaka #sorry I can respect if bokuaka isn't your ship #but if you slander them or don't give actual concrete proof or ramble nonsense then m just ;-;

[daily-fantasy-ideas]

Hi, I really like your prompts, so I have a question for you. I was thinking of unique fantasy plot, because repetitive tales become predictable. Have you got any ideas?

Well, my brain at the moment isn't firing off ideas as much as it does sometimes but I'll give it a shot.

But before I do one good bit of advice I have for you and everyone else reading this is to take inspiration from non-fantasy media and warp and twist it into being fantasy-y.

Now you might think "Oh but X thing that I enjoy can't have that done to it" but trust me it can.

It might end up not resembling the thing that inspired it at all by the time you're done due to the fantastical warping processes, but that's a good thing.

Anyway, the idea for you.

A kingdom, greedy and in pursuit of more metal to fuel their ravenous war machine's need for arms and armour began mining in the ruinous caverns located beneath the Forbidden Mountain.

The reason as to why this ancient peak had been labelled as forbidden has been lost to history for longer than any could remember, but the existence of great deposits of metal within its cavernous depths had been known for just as long.

Soon, after the mining began horrid violent things began peering out from the shadows of the caves and shafts.

The eyes of beasts that had been warped and twisted by some sort of malevolence, eyes which harboured only an unstoppable need to harm and kill.

The metal taken from the mine soon found itself returning home in its new form as the arms and armour of those who needed to fight the horrific beasts lurking within and lunging from those accursed depths.

Many souls ended up consumed by those mountains, either through mining tragedy or by the monsters lurking in its ever-present unyielding shadows.

But no matter how many died, they kept on digging.

Deeper and deeper and deeper still, pulling out more and more metal almost more than a single kingdom could ever need, even as the numbers and ferocity of the monsters began to overwhelm them, and yet they kept digging till they reached the mountain's deepest chamber.

On the day that the furthest depths of the mountain were breached, the kingdom fell, the lands around were set ablaze and the skies were painted black as rocks and boulders fell from pulverising any unfortunate enough to be in their landing path.

The mountain was no more, the final beast had been awakened, it now sored through the sky each great movement of its accursed wings bringing down gales of death and destruction to the land below.

Of course, the kingdom's fall was not solely to be blamed on this freshly unleashed horror. The foolish greed of a royal family so obsessed with the need to be victorious in a potential future war that they neglected every other aspect of their society arguably bares far more of that burden.

So anyway I think a story about having to escape from all that would probably be pretty cool.

Could also definitely have stories set in the mining portion, but mainly I think a story about fleeing a falling fantasy kingdom being destroyed by hubris and a giant winged kaiju-type-dragon-thing could offer some unique storytelling opportunities.

#Incredibly sorry for taking so long to answer this #and like I do hope this helps and that I didn't just massively meander off track like I usually do #also yes all that other stuff was just set up for that last bit #asks #long post #fantasy ideas #cw death

[samanthahirr]

Oooh, 7 or 20 for the writer meta asks, please! 💜

Thank you so much for this ask, Ani! Fun Meta Asks for Writers

#7 - What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Oooo, this is a tough one! I did quite a bit of thinking about this topic at the turn of the year. After a lot of soul-searching, I’ve determined what I think my strengths are as a writer: I know what makes a satisfying story/plot, I can deliver strong pacing and structure and parallels and themes. I bring the unreliable narrators and surprises, and all the side characters in my stories have their own motivations. I work hard to develop tension and conflict and believable characterizations. 

But what’s probably most-distinctive about my writing “style” is economy. I sketch an environment with a couple adjectives and then move on. I drizzle in exposition only when it’s needed/relevant. I don’t stray down side-alley tangents or linger in descriptions and introspection; I keep the story moving. And my writing is (deceptively) straight-forward: similes are rare, and my prose is direct as opposed to poetic. But just because it’s direct doesn’t mean the narrator is impartial in his observations, or being honest with himself (cough * Off the Books * cough).

Also, my spelling & grammar are always ON POINT.

Would others agree? Fuck, I have no idea. Some yes, some no. Shout-out to all the readers who have commented on my believable characterizations and intense planning/plotting! Shout-out to all the readers who were swayed by my unreliable narrators’ opinionated perception of their world and ended up hating characters I didn’t mean to be hated! Shout-out to all the readers who missed my foreshadowing or didn’t understand the theme! All of these comments inspire me to try harder with the next story.

#20 - Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I love this meta question so much! What a great opportunity to peek behind the curtain of the fics I’ve most-loved to write! A few months ago I posted a 30k hurt/comfort-and-pining story called Please Ask (for Help), and I’m really proud of the choice I made for the romance arc and the late additions I made to the story outline to develop it.

The story is set over 10 days, in which Q gets struck by an SUV on his cycling commute, and Bond cuts a mission short so he can support Q during his first week of post-surgery convalescence. Bond is already in love with Q since well-before the fic starts, and he spends those 10 days of intimate care-taking secretly pining for Q, determined to conceal his feelings from his injured coworker. 

I started writing the fic with a brisk, shallow approach to the pining, sticking solely to the present-day, taking it for granted that James Bond was simply in love. (I thought it would be a 15k story. Hah!) I wrote the opening scene of the fic, and Bond thinks to himself, “Four months ago, James would have voiced every filthy double entendre that crossed his mind.” And when I wrote that line, I knew it was a keeper…and also that I would have to eventually produce an answer for what happened “four months ago,” which meant another phase of brainstorming!

Clearly, four months ago was the moment Bond realized he was in love with Q, but what spurred Bond’s realization? Was it something dramatic—an action scene or a kidnapping or a brilliant rescue? Did Bond get jealous of Q dating someone else? Did he catch Q naked, or did Q put another agent in their place with devastating sarcasm, or did Q do something that reminded Bond of Vesper? So many classic tropes I considered. But this was going to be a quiet, soft story about building trust and embracing vulnerability, so I didn’t want anything dramatic or sudden or violent fueling the romance. 

Instead, I chose to base Bond’s love on Q’s fallibility; Q’s characterization changed to that of a man too young for his promotion, who puts up an arrogant front of unimpeachable competence around his coworkers as a defense mechanism—an aloof act so convincing that Bond didn’t even consider Q a friend for the first months of their acquaintance. Not until Bond glimpsed Q’s weaknesses, a few rare moments of embarrassment that made Q feel like a real person to Bond. Over the course of the story, I interjected four short memories, each building the backstory of what it was about Q that made Bond fall for him: Q laughing at himself over a wrong answer at a pub quiz; Q asleep and drooling at his desk; Q distractedly pouring salt into his tea instead of sugar; and Q so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t realize he’s wearing his jumper inside-out. All moments when Bond got to see the real Q behind his proud work facade, made Bond want to shield Q from embarrassment, and made Bond recognize Q as someone human and worth adoring.

So I wanted to highlight those four memories in this meta post because they add a rich history to Bond’s feelings, and it’s easy to miss some of them amid the stresses of Bond’s present-day care-taking and Q’s physical challenges. And Q’s fallibility as the source of Bond’s love juxtaposes really nicely with Q’s initial resentment and humiliation at being so helpless and vulnerable in front of 007 post-accident—a delicious irony I used to torture Bond repeatedly! But over the course of Q’s convalescence, Q grows comfortable being vulnerable in front of Bond (as Q never would have been at work), illustrating how Q’s feelings for Bond are developing. And I really love how that soft emotional story line plays out in the fic, supporting the convalescence arc and building to the inevitable get-together. 

#ask meme answers #00q #00q off the books #the key to decoding Off the Books #is that POV-narrator James Bond views everyone as a THREAT #even Mallory & Tanner & Moneypenny #he's suspicious of everyone and ascribes them selfish motives #pushing away potential friends and allies #because that's how M programmed him to function #she wanted Bond insecure and isolated and dependent on her approval #and his new hyper-vigilance makes him even more paranoid #don't trust this narrator y'all

[inariter]

Things Change-1 (Duskwood x Reader)

Masterlist:

Things Change-1

Things Change-2

Things Change-3

Things Change-4

Things Change-5 

                                                           --------

Things change, people change, everything changes eventually. Maybe it’s the result of one lousy mistake, maybe it’s because someone else decided to finally act, or maybe it’s the cursed fate on your life that just reels you right back. Hard to say in the end, especially when you’re pulled into a chaotic who dunnit between a group of strangers, their even stranger town, a psycho hiding behind a legend, and an awkward yet charismatic hacker. It’s like something out of a thriller film, something that sounds so impossible...

Yet here I find myself caught in this dangerous web, playing this twisted game. Questioning my every move...myself even. Wondering if there’s something I’m missing, if my memory isn’t as reliable as I thought it was or if there’s a secret about me that I don’t even know. Unsure whether I’m trusting the right people, if I’m letting them in all too quickly, especially him. 

But if anything, uncertain what awaits me...or anyone for that matter next? Pondering if we’re the next one to go. Or if fate has some other end for us?

So many thoughts ran through her head, unsure what to do or even think of it. All these sleepless nights, all these days fueled solely on coffee and energy drinks and yet (Y/n) still wondered how much it got her. 

Even as she gazed at her little evidence board, all the little connections, all the little clues, everything they’ve found up till this point pinned to this board of hers and yet it didn’t seem they were any closer to finding Hannah or the person behind this. And he just seemed to getting braver and braver with each passing second. 

Those supposed empty threats now escalating into actual actions. Jessy seemed to be the first victim (assuming what happened to Dan was a mere accident), that image of her laying helpless on the ground still burned in (Y/n)’s mind. And she damn well knew things would only get worse from here. 

She could only imagine what else he might do. That very though just drove her crazy.

“Come on (Y/n), think. What the hell are you missing?” (Y/n) pondered aloud, it was just like when she actually sat down and wrote the stories that roamed her mind. Just waiting to bleed out onto the paper, sure these events were inspiring her to pound out a book right here and now but she restrained herself from writing too much. Allowing only bits and nothing more, after all lives were at stake and this little investigation of hers required her full attention. Especially with Jake being rather disposed at the moment. “What’s the thing that’ll bring all this together? What’s his motive? Why Hannah? Why me? How am I the key to all of this?”

Even as questions swarmed her mind, desperate for any answer that’ll appear from the blue, nothing came. Buried memories she wished to resurface never would, no matter how much (Y/n) tried to unveil them.

“Fucking hell!” Papers went flying in her already messy study, scattering everywhere as an idea came to mind. A stupid idea yet the only one she could think of.

(Y/n) already knew Duskwood was only a couple hours from her and it’s not like the idea hadn’t crossed her mind before. She had it all planned out. She had the entire act she’d put on stained in her memory. Even what she would do in Duskwood without anyone ever knowing it was her. 

(Y/n) just never thought it would come to pass, not like this at least. In her mind it would simply be a surprise to all her newly found friends after everything eventually passed. But now..it seemed like the only option. 

After all, things change, sometimes without even knowing how much or how quickly they do.

Sighing, (Y/n) felt Jax brush her against her hand, worried that something was wrong; knocking her away from her thoughts. (Y/n) smiled at her lab, petting him to soothe his uneasy heart while solidifying what she had to do.

Even if she were to regret it later, (Y/n) knew the deed had to be done.

It had to be done, else she wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit back in the comfort of her home while all of them were thrown to the wolves.

And for now it’ll just be her little secret, among the many others she kept locked up.

#duskwood #fanfic #duskwood x reader #mc #mc x Duskwood

[make-a-little-mischief]

THE GOTHIC SPACE RACE: UNDERSTANDING FRANKENSTEINIAN IMAGERY IN WAY… WAY OUT

By Lauren (my sister)

It’s evening… on a desolate rock… floating in space… where no one can hear you scream. A husband and wife are settling down for sleep in a perfectly silent space station… not another soul for 240,000 miles…. Then there’s a knock at the door.

Alright, so it’s not the premise of a horror movie, it’s Way… Way Out. But, you have to admit, that sure reads like the start of a spooky campfire story.

Which - hear me out - I believe is sort of the point. Moments before the sensuous Russians arrive, Peter is watching tv on his government-enforced honeymoon that, moments before, went up in flames. He switches on the monitor and Frankenstein’s climactic angry mob is hunting down the monster. Boris Karloff watches fearfully from the top of a windmill as torches set the tower ablaze.

While it may not be a campfire story, something’s cookin’ in this scene. And get your marshmallows, because I’m gonna give you s’more…

The entire set up of this story echoes the concept of Mary Shelley’s classic Gothic horror: a scientific exploration bringing out the worst in mankind sparking, among other side effects, the desire for a mate. 

This desire is first exemplified in the truly monstrous impulses of their current test subject: Schmidlap. A man who not only lunges and gropes for first Anna then Eileen, but is fixated on sketching the female figure. As though the form of the thing is what matters, nothing more. These sketches are bodies without heads, limbs without life, and could easily be interchanged for the Gothic good doctor snatching body parts in graveyards.

This creation of a half-comatose, half-raging madman inspires the U.S. government to enforce deployment of a married pair to counteract such effects in the future. Interestingly, the Russians share a similar sentiment albeit far less matrimonial in practice.

On the opposite end of the scandalous spectrum from Schmidlap is Igor. A Russian whose name is easily recognizable in pop culture as being evocative of Frankenstein lore. Clothed in a passion-red jumpsuit, his intentions are purely hedonistic. Even his walk is reminiscent of a movie monster fueled by one sole purpose, in this case, of [protected] procreation.

While he may be more personable than Schmidlap, it is only because he has access to an outlet for his impulses in the form of his partner Anna, played by Anita Ekberg. As a beauty pageant contestant and winner of the title of Miss Sweden, she truly embodies the sociological concept of the ideal female figure and thus the perfect “mate” for Igor.

 Understandably, Anna is miserable as the plaything for the man she loves. While she shares with Igor the desire for a mate, she needs a more fulfilling relationship. 

A term which the scientists in this film fail to comprehend the meaning of - except for Eileen.

From the start, Eileen identifies her own government’s marital experiment for what it is - a veiled indulgence of baser instincts.

Out of the qualified female employees, Eileen is chosen as a bride ultimately for her physical traits that directly appeal to Peter and indirectly benefit the program by satisfying the carnal needs of their male employee - purely so that he may perform his mission, free of certain frustrations. It is not until the script is flipped and Peter is the bridegroom to a woman who eagerly accepts the business arrangement that Peter can fully appreciate Eileen’s perspective.

He learns that love cannot be forced, in any concept. And when the pressure to woo is off, it is telling that Peter desires to see no other person before lift-off than Eileen. When Peter visits Eileen at her home, they share a conversation led by Eileen - the inverse of their original meeting, where, while she spoke with integrity, she was dominated by other government-fueled objectives. Now she is listened to by Peter with a respect that clearly has no ulterior motive. They meet as equals, not only intellectually but emotionally as they share a final parting kiss. It is then that Eileen realizes that there is potential for true love between them. 

But, alas, it is too late. Peter is to marry someone else. He leaves and Eileen has lost her chance to not only be with him but to fulfill a personal dream of visiting the moon.

Then, a knock at the door.

It is important to note that, while this is only the beginning of their adventure, and there are many bumps in the road to come, there is a marked promise that all will work out to their benefit:

Where the other men compulsively lust, clamor, and fight for sex, Peter stands before his ideal bride-to-be with his hands held up in surrender. 

Surrender to Eileen’s free will and personal choice, out of respect and admiration for her as a human being. He is willing to be with her on her terms, so that she will gladly choose to be with him.

I’d like to include a quote from Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein, a very different story to the original film shown in the movie - a quote that, in my edition, is found on page 166, synchronistically, whose numbers add up to Jerry’s favorite to hide in his films: 13. A quote that could easily be spoken by Peter to Eileen in this moment of surrender: 

“... if I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I shall need no other happiness.”

For such a profoundly dark and gripping tale of man’s hubris, such a line may seem out of place. But perhaps it is in the darkness that light shines brightest. Indeed, these words are felt the stronger being sandwiched between terror and tragedy. 

And perhaps on a desolate rock, where night can last for days, 240,000 miles from civilization, it is the best place to choose to reflect the best parts of humanity.  

Peter and Eileen show us what it means to be a real couple. There is an authenticity in how they interact. Unafraid to fight as well as love, they hide no side of themselves from the other and thus allow (in time) for the other to accept them for who they are. Even the not-so-pretty sides.

Again, it was not the ceremonial date that ticked all the superficial boxes of getting to know each other that warmed Eileen to Peter. 

It was their time alone, without any pressure to be something to the other, that awakened an interest. And it is not Peter’s persistence, and certainly not his drunken machismo that wins Eileen’s trust and love. 

Rather, it is the upheld promise of honoring her sovereignty over her body. As a result, and in stark contrast to the story it references, Way… Way Out ends in complete Victor-y. 

In the end, the experiment is more than a success, it is a milestone for mankind. A new Space Race: the first child to be had on the moon. And it looks like Eileen and Peter have an inherent edge to winning. As opposed to Anna and Igor’s union, this is a conception that is founded on upright honesty on Eileen’s part to Peter. 

Just as he respected her choices, she respects him by telling him the truth, not only about Anna but about her eagerness to start a genuine marriage with him. Science and monsters aside, Way… Way Out’s parallels to horror end here, at the beginning of a new creation.

Happy Halloween.

#jerry lewis #connie stevens #way...way out #frankenstein

[lenbryant]

Holy Long Posts & Bat Balls! Now, "Don't Say Gay" Comes To GA?

(Via L.A. Times) An author tells the real origin story of Batman and is silenced for saying ‘gay’

A Georgia elementary school principal panicked, pulled the plug on a lecture and apologized to parents.

ROBIN ABCARIAN

Holy evangelical conservatives, Batman! 

Even the Dark Knight’s origin story has become fodder for our endless culture wars.

Last month, Marc Tyler Nobleman, an author who spent years researching the disputed origins of the Batman story, told an assembly of fifth-graders in Georgia how his work led to an obscure writer named Bill Finger finally getting credit for co-creating Batman. For the last decade, Nobleman has given presentations to rapt children all over the country based on his 2012 book, “Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-creator of Batman.”

One of the pivotal characters in the true story, Finger’s son, Fred, was gay, a fact that was relevant to Nobleman’s pursuit, as you will see in a moment.

Apparently, though, the very word “gay” has become so offensive to some social conservatives that it cannot be uttered in a room of fifth-graders without inducing moral panic. The principal of Sharon Elementary School in Forsyth County, Ga., was so unnerved by Nobleman’s description of Fred Finger that he sent a preemptive letter of apology to parents, according to Georgia Public Broadcasting: “As Mr. Nobleman chronicled the tale, he included that Mr. Finger was ‘gay,’ ” wrote Principal Brian Nelson. “This was not subject matter that we were aware that he was including nor content that we have approved for our students.”

In three subsequent talks to students at the school, Nobleman excised the word. But after he saw Nelson’s email to parents, he had a change of heart.

“He apologized as if I had hurt people,” Nobleman told Georgia Public Broadcasting. “And when I saw that, my conscience came roaring back and I said, ‘I’m done with this. I’m done acquiescing.’ ” As a result, the school canceled his final two presentations.

Who was served by this knee-jerk reaction? Certainly not the children, who were deprived of an informative and inspiring hour about one of everybody’s favorite superheroes.

You may think Florida governor and presidential candidate Ron DeSantis’ “Don’t Say Gay” crusade against classroom discussions of sexuality is a stupid, disingenuous and cynical ploy to appeal to former President Trump’s MAGA Republican base. And it certainly is all that. But it has also inspired other states — Georgia legislators are currently grappling with a version of such a bill — and has added fuel to the backlash against LGBTQ+ civil rights, which has now reached a moment of maximum absurdity.

The idea that children on the cusp of adolescence should be shielded from any reference to sexual identities is an assault on the humanity of queer people.

“Imagine opening an email and reading the message that your sexual orientation, your family, your child, your very existence as a gay person warrants apology and an assurance that no discussion of your existence will be allowed,” wrote members of the Forsyth Coalition for Education, which the New York Times described as a nonpartisan group of parents and teachers fighting “conservative efforts to restrict what can be taught in the district.”

The kerfuffle over Batman is the result of an increasingly aggressive and well-organized campaign on the part of the religious right and MAGA Republicans to turn back the clock on the hard-won civil rights of women, people of color and LGBTQ+ people.

Years ago, Nobleman had become convinced, correctly, that Bob Kane, the man who had been credited as Batman’s sole creator, had wrongfully denied credit to Finger, starting with the character’s inception in 1939. Kane had a vague idea for a bat-like superhero. But Finger refined it; he created Batman’s iconic bat-eared cowl, his bat logo and scalloped cape. He came up with the sidekick Robin, the monikers “the Dark Knight,” “Bruce Wayne” and “Gotham City.” He created or co-created various Batman nemeses — Catwoman, the Joker, the Penguin, the Riddler. His name appeared only once in Batman history, as co-writer of “The Clock King’s Crazy Crimes,” an episode of the campy 1966 “Batman” TV series.

As a result, Finger died penniless in 1974, while Kane, who died in 1988, became a rich mega-celebrity in the intensely devoted world of superhero comic fandom.

Nobleman set out to right the historical record. But he was stymied.

As far as he knew, Finger had no living heir to make the case to Warner Bros. and DC Entertainment, which owned the rights to the character. Finger’s only son, Fred, was gay. He had died of complications of AIDS in 1992, and Nobleman simply assumed that, as a gay man, he had not fathered any children. As he scoured telephone books and newspaper obituary pages, Nobleman tracked down some of Finger’s relatives, including a niece who informed him that Fred had in fact married a woman. And that he had fathered a daughter named Athena.

After years of sleuthing, Nobleman found Athena, Bill’s granddaughter. He knew he’d hit gold in 2007, when he tracked down her MySpace page and saw that she had posted a photo of her dog, Bruce Wayne.

Finally, after a years-long campaign involving fan pressure, gentle legal threats and plenty of moral outrage, in 2015 Warner Bros. and DC Entertainment acknowledged Bill Finger’s considerable contributions to the lucrative franchise. Finger, they admitted, was “instrumental in developing many of the key creative elements that enrich the Batman universe,” and they promised to give him credit on every future Batman release.

In 2017, Hulu released the documentary “Batman and Bill,” based on Nobleman’s book.

Threaded throughout the film is the family’s frustration, anger and sadness about Finger’s obscurity, which hung over them, as Athena Finger puts it, “like a dark cloud.”

In one illustrated scene, Fred Finger draws the famous Batman silhouette in sand on an Oregon beach. He spreads his father’s ashes inside the silhouette, then lets the waves wash them away.

It’s a beautiful moment in a story that ends with the dark cloud lifted, with justice served.

Will school officials stop their inane objections to the word “gay”?

We can only hope. As Batman was fond of saying, “The night is darkest before the dawn.”

@robinkabcarian

#refrigerator magnet #batman #bob kane #bill finger #don't say gay #lgbt #lgbt+

[theoddhedgehog955]

My name is Jerzyk, born into a world stitched together by stories and experiences, a world in which I found myself ensnared, and yet inspired. My early life was one of shared laughter and dreams in a close-knit community, where our lives were woven together by threads of various religions and races. This tapestry of diversity was my world, and it was comforting and familiar.

Life, however, had a different trajectory planned for me. I found myself moving to a new country, a choice born out of necessity rather than desire. The fresh environment, teeming with unfamiliar customs and people, challenged my sense of self. The shadows of stereotypes, biases related to my race and religion, coupled with the struggles of adjusting, loomed large. The label 'immigrant' seemed to overshadow 'Jerzyk,' altering the contours of my identity.

As I continued to grapple with these new realities, I was reminded of the complex nature of life. The trials and tribulations weren't solely a result of the move or my immigrant status. Other challenges also surfaced - the scramble for stability, learning a new language, the intricacies of adult life - each adding layers to the evolving saga of my existence.

In these moments, I often find myself retracing my past, reconnecting with the joyful echoes of my early years. I remind myself of the shared dreams and laughter, the youthful days untouched by the complications of my present. One memory, in particular, stands out - the days spent with a special friend in middle school. The warmth of her hand in mine, the dreams we shared under the brilliant sun, reaching for the skies - these moments have become anchors in my present.

These memories of our innocent companionship, now confined to the realm of the past, serve as a poignant reminder of the simple, unfiltered joy of my youth. The absence of such moments today fills me with a sense of loss, underscoring the transformation of my life's landscape. Yet, these reflections also kindle hope and perseverance, pushing me to recreate such moments of joy and belonging in my current circumstances.

With these memories fueling my determination, I tread through life's labyrinth, encountering its challenges and opportunities. My experiences as an immigrant have painted my world with intricate strokes, revealing the complexities of human existence and resilience in the face of adversity. Each interaction with a stereotype, each struggle to fit in, forms a stepping stone in my journey towards understanding the world and myself better.

Life, therefore, becomes a canvas painted with the hues of my past, the textures of my present, and the anticipation of the future. This confluence of experiences forms the story of Jerzyk - a story of resilience, hope, and the relentless quest for a sense of belonging.

As my journey unfolds, I am reminded of the universality of human experiences. We may all have our unique stories, but at their core, they echo similar sentiments. Our trials and triumphs, sorrows and bliss, shared and solitary moments, are what bind us together, creating a shared human narrative.

In conclusion, the journey of life, with its myriad experiences, teaches us invaluable lessons. It prompts us to approach life with open hearts and minds, to accept and celebrate our unique paths while acknowledging the shared threads of our experiences. Life may not always meet our expectations, but it always provides opportunities for growth, resilience, and understanding. We should take solace in the knowledge that our struggles and joys are shared, and that they shape our identities and our perspectives. Our journey, therefore, is not just about reaching a destination, but also about the shared moments of sorrows and bliss, the lessons learned, and the bonds formed along the way.

[mermaidsarenotformen]

9:01 pm, 14 October 2022

Silence. Empty Promises. No signals.

I have Ry on my mind all the time. It's sad. Honestly, it's upsetting that I open up my chats to check if he's texted me, though I clearly have my notifications on for him. He probably doesn't even care. He knows I'm hurting. I told him, yet, here we are. Drowning in silence and pride. Full stops and uncertainties. He probably doesn't even think of me half as much as I do of him.

It's so pathetic. I hate this. I feel like I'm the only one who ever cared. Who ever loved, and the only one who never said it out loud. I'm nothing in his life. Nobody. We dated for 3 months. How sad is that. So sad.

What's even more upsetting is that the only person who can do anything to make the situation better doesn't even do anything about it.

Who am I kidding. He wanted someone to date and so we did. Probably cause he felt bad about hooking up with me. Now, he's bored and acting like he's a good guy nd that he tried when he is really doing anything. These men are all trash.

Itsokay. I'm fine. I'm good.

I don't need anyone. I got my dad, who I kind of patched things with. I got a car. I got friends from work- barely but I'll count them. I also have my mom and my roommates. I have kpop. I have a nice job. I have so much in my life to look at.

I'll be fine. I'll find someone who can take a hint and send me roses when I'm upset , or take me on a picnic or draw me an I'm sorry graphic art or poem. Maybe even make me a playlist. That would've been cute.

I'll find someone.

And he's going to be amazing. He'll be so great that when I look at him even after hours, months and years, I'll think, oh how glad am I to have this beautiful human in my life. Cause that's just how amazing he will be.

***

I used to wonder if I'd ever need an actual boyfriend who I feel strongly about to write songs and stories and poems about. However, now I realize, it's not experiences that gets you writing. It's your emotions that does. All this while, I kept waiting for thar one bug moment that would inspire me and get me to write pages and pages. However, that's not the case. All of that comes from within me. My emotions fuel my writings. I used to feel a lot as a teenager and I wrote a lot. However, somewhere along the way, I guess I numbed myself a bit.

Well, now I know. It's me that fuels the pen. Not my life. It my emotions and my sensitivity. Whoa. I am the answer to my wiring problems. I just need to feel more about things I can't talk to others about. Cause that make me write it out.

Scream, bleed, tell on paper. That's what I was born for.

I was born to want a lot and be miserable and in that misery write. Then, because I solely believe I should get whT I want, I get it, and then I want more and the cycle continues. I guess this is a writers curse.

Well, I have it all sorted now.

#hope #writers on tumblr #romance #love #self love #journal #writing #writer #story

[opuntie]

#dancing shadows #mumza and dadza #philzafanart #mumza fanart #philza fanart #dream smp #orphans path #of course #that story is my sole inspiration fuel at the moment #it's just #so beautiful to read #lovely story #and wholesome #chaotic #and inspiring #anyways #fanart for fanfic #fanart for fanfiction #ScetchBook #i would go into the theory channel on discord but social interactions are scary and am just lurking ._.

[nightlychans]

Of Withered Peonies

Chapter 1/4 (+ the epilogue)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Hunger Games au

Word count: 7.11k

Includes: ensemble cast (TXT’s Yeonjun, BtoB’s Minhyuk, TVXQ’s Changmin, more characters to be added in the future), original characters

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of murder, depressing elements, mentions of trauma, a capitalist dystopia that is the hunger games, this is a hunger games fic thus will be heavily riddled with topics concerning death, murder, and overall loss of life.

Synopsis: Every year, you hoped and prayed that the names that were pulled from the pool of white envelopes would not belong to you nor your younger brother, Jeongin. You were almost certain that you would escape this fate all together this year, fairly certain that your name would not be pulled from the huge bowl for the 100th Hunger Games, and you would be set for life afterwards as you would have grown out of the age group after this year, having to worry about Jeongin’s fate for two more years before he was in the clear too. All of that had changed, however, as fate banged on your door at the reaping. And with it, it brought you certain doom.

Notes: Again, THIS FIC WILL BE COVERING HEAVY TOPICS, read at your own will. I would like to thank Dazed magazine for Hyunjin’s photoshoot, it’s the sole reason behind it really, thought I can’t say much without spoiling, hehe. I would like to elaborate that this fic will be taking deliberate worldbuilding elements from Suzanne Collin’s series, The Hunger Games. Most of the names, people and events from the book will not be mentioned in this fic: this is in no shape or form a rehash of the original plot, and liberties will be taken with it. ALSO, thank you everyone for not giving up on me and this blog, despite the fact that I haven’t uploaded original work in months. And also a special thanks to @hynjnhwng​  — for holding my hand through this, for supporting me, for betaing this late at night, and for being a dear friend and an amazing writer who inspires me. 💛

Staring at yourself in the mirror one last time, you let out a deep sigh. The person that looked back at you felt foreign. Dolled up, glittery makeup to “make your eyes and cheeks pop”, a shade of also a glittery deep red lipstick that fueled the urge to wipe it off with the back of your hands every time you looked at it. Hair carefully yet tightly clad into a braid, tickling the naked skin peeking from the deep back cleavage of the dress with expensive material, you had no idea what it could be. Nor did you have the will to ask the stylists or the couple from 8. The couple. That’s what people called them, from the very moment shortly after the reaping when it was revealed that the young pair was, indeed, romantically involved. You felt sorry for them. Maybe not too deeply, but still sorry that their story would end in suffering. That was all you could muster. 

The second your name was drawn from the large, glass bowl and announced in front of the whole district, your peers and their families gathered in the square, you considered your life to be over. Standing on the stage, alongside the woman with the extravagant outfit was the other unlucky soul that was Choi Yeonjun. He did not look as dreadful as you were, nor was he over the moon about this either. You watched from afar as he bid his goodbyes to his parents as you waited for your family to step foot in the building. Behind closed doors and away from the curious eyes of the district and the cameras, you held onto your sanity with a tight grip for the last time as Jeongin came into your sights, running towards your figure that was, otherwise, cowering in the shadows almost, and pulling you into maybe the tightest hug you have ever been in. You bit your tongue and held back your tears and sobs, while your younger brother cried onto your shoulder almost shamelessly, not wishing to fight the urge of letting his pain be known. And as you looked over to your parents, as you saw your mother in a somewhat similar state to Jeongin with tears spilling from her tired eyes, and your father not even being able to look at his beloved family that he worked day in and day out for, you knew. Your parents then soon joined the embrace, three of them engulfing you tightly in their arms. 

You knew your time would be small, the capitol wouldn’t be too kind to give you a chance to leave with a proper goodbye. So you squirmed, prompting your parents to take a step back before lifting Jeongin’s head, your hands on his cheeks wiping his tears away to no avail as new ones fell onto your fingertips rapidly. You lowered him to your level, kissing his forehead as his hands joined yours on his cheeks, certainly not willing to let you go. Then, as if to prove you right, the peacekeepers began making announcements, shouting through the hallway that it was time to go. You whipped your head back to Jeongin, his sobs were almost uncontrollable now. Hushing your little brother, you kissed each of his eyelids, his forehead again and then his wet cheeks before moving to your parents. Jeongin’s grip on your hand was unforgiving, telling you that he was not ready to let go. But as you saw two peacekeepers approach your family, you planted one last kiss on his hand before slipping your hand away from his. Freezing at your spot after a few moments, you stood there a few steps away and looked at your devastated family; you felt so close, yet so far away. Looking at all of them, as if you were trying to memorize what they all looked like, you reminded them that you will always love them before the peacekeepers took you away from them. As you walked away with two tall men in the white armored suits, you heard your mother and Jeongin cry out loud in unison, and you knew. 

You would be never seeing them again. In fact, you wouldn’t be alive at all in just a matter of a few days. 

“What are you waiting for, my dear girl?” 

The sound of Orena, your escort, brought you back to the present. Though your memories were dispersed, the grey cloud of thoughts kept your mind busy still. Curiously, your eyes trailed over your dress once again. It was suffocating: collar wrapping around your whole neck; arms fully clad to the very tips of your fingers, almost like two very long gloves were stitched into the shoulders, though there were no visible marks. Or maybe they were hidden behind the strips. 

Ah, yes. The fucking light strips. 

You heard of and seen some of the ridiculous outfits people had to wear for the parades. Your district was always a victim to the greys and silvers, greens if they were lucky according to some people; always adorning some tools or just gears on the outfit. Stereotypical of the Capitol mindset, you always sighed and shook your head. But now, there you were. No grey piece of cloth was added to the dress, nor a silver piece resembling a wrench or a green one resembling a circuit board, like last year’s disastrous outfits.  

No, that was simply not the case. You were still... odd, to say. Not that fashion was your forte in any shape of form, but you could say that the stylists were either merciful or experimentalists. Because aside from the rather annoying light strips, you could say you looked almost plain. The dress underneath the strips did not seem to have any tricks or anything too flashy, just a sophisticated cut on the back and the front for your liking. Your torso was embraced in the skin-tight fabric, neck and arms also covered in pitch black, but there was a cut in the shape of a V on the back, the same cut also copied on the long skirt adorning the bottom half of the dress, exposing your legs more than you would like. You felt odd in the heeled boots they gave you, one reaching up to a few inches above your knee on your mid-thigh and one to your ankle, wobbling around in them as they said something about “making up for the height difference”, a clear nod to Yeonjun’s towering figure over yours. Not to mention, the fact that they also wrapped light strips around your legs as well made it harder for you. 

Overall, without the cables of lights all over your legs, waist, chest, arms, shoulders, and even one in your hair going down with the braid, you looked like one of the anchors on one of Capitol’s stupid daytime TV shows, just with a little less glam.  

The sound of heels digging onto the rich marbled floors got louder as Orena rounded the corner. “Dearie, I’ve been calling for you. It’s time to go.” 

You turned your head to look at her, seeing her in her third wig today; a high, orange nestle of curls with blue bangs that looked more like a lion’s mane than anything, dark blue glitter thrown over the tips. Alien. She looked alien, different; gave you a sense of unfamiliarity that made you homesick, even though you had been away for just a couple of days now, most of it spent on the train anyway. Home. 

You would never see home again. 

Looking back at your reflection again, you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing for the nth time today. Each passing second, your chest felt like it was growing bigger, heart trying to leap out of the confining material of the dress. Unintentionally, your hands flew to your stomach, feeling the coldness of the unlit strips and the opulent material of the dress. Fingers sneaking under the cables, you smoothed the few creases, hesitant eyes taking in your appearance one last time before you turned to the older woman. 

“Ah, don’t you look just alluring, my little one,” Her tone was full of adoration, though you couldn’t tell if it was faux or not. She reached her hand and walked towards you, holding yours unprompted and gently pulling it to the side. Upon seeing your wary gaze, she let out a small chuckle, clearly amused. “Turn around for me, will you darling?”  

Her pet names, though hard to get used to at the very first day, started to bother you less each time, some almost comforting you like the time when you got off the train, hordes of Capitol citizens waiting for your arrival on the other side of a world you were about to be introduced to. When you took two steps backwards, almost getting ready to jump back on the train and hide away, her gloved hand found its way on your shoulders, giving a gentle, almost motherly squeeze followed by encouraging words you would never expect from someone like her. And now, it gave you a small amount of comfort as well, giving you a small boost of confidence as you took her lead, carefully spinning on your heels to show her the back of the dress.  

“Marvelous; you look splendid, my dear,” You were met with her signature smile upon facing her again, an unusual glint in her eyes that you haven’t seen in the past days you have spent almost exclusively with her, not even when she talked about the glorious luxury you would soon see once you reached the Capitol as you and Yeonjun listened to her speech skeptically. “Now, let us not be late.” 

She quickly turned around, though with grace, and began walking back the way she came in. Heart slowly but surely starting to pick up the beats, almost banging against your ribcage, you held your breath for a few seconds before calling out for her just as she was about to round the corner. Hearing her name spill in a hasty manner, Orena turned back to you with raised eyebrows. 

“Could you...” A deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Could you help me walk to the chariots? I can’t really walk in these.” 

She froze in her spot, almost seemingly calculating what you said before she broke into a small, sympathetic smile before clearing her throat, wiping away at her emotions before her eyes darted to the other side of the hallway that you couldn’t see upon hearing a new set of footsteps. 

“I’ll take care of it, Orena,” bouncing from the grey walls was the voice of Minhyuk, your mentor and the only remaining victor from 3 out of the total four that was alive. “You can go back to the escort reception area; they don’t care about the whereabouts of the mentors anyway.” 

As he came into your view, with him, he brought a new sense of comfort that you desperately needed at that moment, not slowing down your heart rate but surely making it less violent against your own chest. Orena nodded briefly before taking a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily before a tight, radiant smile was placed on her lips, patting Minhyuk’s shoulder gently before making her way out of the room.  

Minhyuk, to his credit, looked dashing in his own right, the dark colored suit was not too flashy, but he carried it smoothly. A silver chain was dangling on the front, connecting the two collars of his black shirt and another one hanging from the middle, disappearing into his blazer. A collar, you thought, Capitol planning, how clever.  

You remembered watching the games he was in, one of the first ones you had to watch actually. He surprised everyone by simply outliving his opponents; having to take the life of the guy from 7 on the first day, everyone watched as he hid away in a cave and broke down in agony, rubbing at his hands furiously for hours as tears ran down his cheeks. Though, you couldn’t tell if it was his body’s response to the mental turmoil, as well as the emotional one, or his way of keeping himself warm at that moment, as that year’s game was played in a tundra setting, the arena being a cold, snowy hell. You could still recall how your father shook his head and turned around, having so much of this “mandatory viewing” as he announced his retrieval to bed for that night upon seeing Minhyuk’s form, shaking his head as he rubbed his palms together, mumbling to himself over and over: “I was just defending myself”.  

And now here he was, almost 10 years after that year, the winner of the 90th Hunger Games, “the survival specialist” as the talk show hosts called him, a jab at the fact that for the past decades, also the games following his as well, that no winner had chosen survival over violence. He had grown into a man, face more defined, as well as the muscle mass; actions more calculated, words chosen carefully. 

“You look exquisite,” ah, yes, the carefully chosen words. “I’m glad they didn’t go with the foxy look.” 

Eyebrows raised, you gave him a quizzical look as he approached you, standing across you with his arm out, waiting for you to take the initiative. You wrapped your glove-clad arm around his, waiting for him to step aside so you could take your first step. As expected, you did wobble a bit. “The foxy look?” 

“Yeah, I saw them showing Orena the designs,” He was, thankfully, patient with your steps, walking slowly to match your pace as you both made your way out of the doorless room, the long hallways with tall walls making you feel smaller than you were. Just a soul passing through; a small, expandable and forgettable one that would be gone within a few days. A gentle voice pulled you out of the headspace you didn’t even realize you entered. “They wanted you guys to look smart, cunning; Orena said you guys were not villains and asked for something else.” 

“She did?” Your steps were a little bit steadier with each, though your pace was not accelerating as much. As you made it to the end of the hallway, turning around at a corner to reveal another corridor, two entrances: one on the left, placed in the middle, another on the right, far back. Must be the male ward, you figured, since you did not see one single male tribute passing among the hallways ever since they began your preparations. It also explained the doorless rooms. 

“Yeah,” He nodded to a man passing by you two as you approached the entrance on the left, the man continued walking to the male ward. Must be another mentor. “She might come off a bit...” 

“Pompous?” you completed for him. 

“In the beginning, yes,” He chuckled, arm flexing as you slightly lost your balance and put pressure on your hold suddenly, his other hand flying out of the pocket of his trousers to stand in front of you to block a possible fall. Once you got your footing again, mumbling a quick “thank you” before resuming your walk, you noticed that this was quite like riding a bike, learning to walk in heels that was. Except your mother was not here to instruct you, and you certainly couldn’t ask Minhyuk at this point. Also, you could not see the logic nor the mechanics. “But she is actually a lot better than the other escorts they had for us. How can I say this?” 

You looked at him, studying his expressions as he thought hard about what he wanted to say and how he should say it. At this point, you were almost at a regular walking speed. 

“Let’s just say she does not look down on us,” He turned his face towards you, watching your reactions closely with careful eyes. “The escort at my games was no different in terms of ethics, but she treated us like we were lab rats, or exotic animals for display. She made us look more like objects than tributes, and that cost us so much; almost no one wanted to sponsor us.” 

“And Orena is different because...?” You raised an eyebrow; a challenge, an invitation for him to prove a point. 

“She sees us as humans,” You almost reached the grand entrance now, sunlight beaming from the other side as the area with the chariots waiting came into your view, a crowd of people gathered near the entryway. “She is not so much different in the sense that she is still a Capitol citizen, sure. But she does care for her tributes. She is fairly new, you know? Still has the excitement and that makes her vulnerable actually.” 

“What do you mean?” You stopped in your tracks as you were maybe 15 steps away from the entrance, not ready for this conversation to end yet. Not ready to leave his side. Not ready to face Yeonjun. Not ready for this to start.  

“You remember Gorveen, right? The last victor before me?” he stepped in front of you, almost shielding you from the view of the other side. Tilting your head to the side, you hummed in confirmation, prompting him to continue. “After she passed away, when I was the only victor left in the pool, they decided to also change the Capitol team responsible for us. So, they replaced her with someone else.” 

“Orena?” Faint sounds of a pair of footsteps approaching where you stood made your shoulders tense up. Minhyuk’s expression changed swiftly, eyes losing the warmth they had for yours as they looked over your shoulder, then relaxing into a formal visage.  

“Hey Minhyuk.” A clear voice, gentle, coming from behind you as you lowered your head slightly, not daring to see the people approaching.  

“Hey Changmin,” He nodded a quick hello, the pair was just reaching your form now. 

“Care for a chat later?” The man, Changmin, asked as he passed you two, another form following behind him in matching steps. From what you could see from the corner or your eyes, you could see how tall the pair were. 

“Sure thing, I’ll catch you after they take off,” Minhyuk turned his head to the side, eyes fixed on the wall they just passed by as he listened for their footsteps, turning back to you once he thought they were a safe distance away from your conversation. 

“Who was that?” you couldn’t conceal your curiosity, a quick gaze at the tall pair of men walking into the area with the chariots. All you could make out from the light coming from their way, however, was the shades of blues, purples and pinks of the man behind him. 

“Changmin, the mentor of 4,” he ran his hand through his neatly styled hair, smoothing any strands that stood out of place. “He won a few years before I did.” 

“I see...” Clearing your throat, you raised your chin once again to meet his gaze. “You were saying?” 

“Oh? Ah, yeah, no, it was not Orena; the escort after that,” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “There were replacements coming and going for the three years after that. And then Orena came. She has three years of experience, and that makes her new to the job. So, yes, she is excited. But if you ask me, she is different.”  

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side once again, not buying into his logic just yet. 

“Better in the sense that she has more sympathy than the others that I have seen, at least,” A sigh, followed by a small smile. “She is just as bound as we are, Y/N; she is imprisoned in her own regards. She has her own set of rules that she must strictly follow too. But she does care for her tributes, I swear to you she does. No one sees it, not even the avoxes that bring her the finest champagne every two hours, but she does watch the games with me. I have seen how she reacts to the death of those in her care, even if she comes to know them for a short while.” 

Standing there, you looked into his eyes to see if there was any hint of a deceit in there, a sign that says “he is just saying this for the sake of it” or “he is just lying to get you to relax”. But you found nothing in there. No signs of misleading, no fibs. Or maybe you just couldn’t tell it, since there was no need for lying in your household, honestly being a high honor your parents would carry with pride and teach you and your brother to be the same way.  

Either way, you did not have the time to dwell on it any further, as Minhyuk was once again back to your side, hand coming out of the pocket as he offered his arm to you once again. Gladly, you took it and began walking once again. You noted that you were beginning to be better at walking with these shoes, though your feet felt like it was being poked with needles with each step now. 

Wordlessly, you both entered the enormous area. As you walked out of the entrance to the hallways, Minhyuk carefully guided you among the sea of people gathered in front of it; all of it citizens of Capitol, you could recognize the face of your stylists there too, so you assumed those people also had to be other stylists and attendants. Once you walked past them, you were met with chariots that everyone had been talking about today. And oh, you saw what the fuss was about. 

The carriers, in contrast to the white ones from last year, were pitch black, as well as the horses; adorned in regal engraving, carefully applied polish and crimson crystals you— didn’t know what they were exactly, but they looked majestic. The manes of the horses were pulled in small, almost tight-looking buns over their necks and you felt bad for the poor animals. As Minhyuk guided you towards one of the chariots, Yeonjun finally came into your view after hours of being separated from him during your preparations. And you found yourself eyeing him, dangling on the thin line between taking in his look and ogling him, rather unintentionally. 

He stood there, hands in the pockets of the trousers of his suit quite like Minhyuk from mere minutes ago. You could even tell it from the baggy set of clothes he wore on the day of the reaping, and the rather oversized button up he wore this morning over his pajama pants this morning, but this tight fitted suit, much like your own dress, made it easy for you to realize just how lean his figure was. Though, it seemed like his suit was made of the shiny, leathery material of your shoes instead of the smooth material of your dress. He looked absolutely ravishing in the said material, though, and you found the contrast a bit appealing; his shiny suit and your matte dress.  

His makeup was pretty similar to yours, minus the lipstick, at least, but the same colors were used, and you could see the glitter from where you were walking towards him. His hair was blown out, exposing his forehead, and compared to yours, it looked rather messy.  

Once your eyes fell on the next set of details, or rather once you started to take in his appearance bit by bit instead of whole, a small shade of pink found your cheeks, however. His suit was apparently made up of two materials, the said trousers, and a blazer — sleeves also ending in gloves — that was cut a few inches below his chest, putting his stomach on full display. And, oh lord, they put the glittery makeup on your eyes on his exposed skin as well; not too flashy, but visibly there. For a brief second, you wondered if they put any glitter on your back as well. 

And then there were his set of light strips. Much like yours, it was draped over him in a messy fashion, making the outfits look more complicated than they were. His shoulders, neck, arms and thighs were all enveloped by the strips. There were also two set of strips wrapped around his waist, over his stomach, forming a cross maybe two inches next to his belly button.  

He looked captivating, and you had no doubt in your mind that the women of the Capitol would take a liking in him.  

“Yeonjun, did you mess with your hair?” Minhyuk sighed, crossing his arms once you let go of the one aiding you.  

Yeonjun, looking rather uninterested, shrugged his shoulders as he looked down. “I was stressed.” 

“Come on, let the stylists do their thing, kiddo,” he began walking back to the group of people you left behind, Yeonjun tailing after him wordlessly as you were left there in your own company, left in your own little world once again. 

You looked around the area, taking in the rest of the tributes for the first time. Some of them looked absolutely funny to you, especially the poor pair from 12 who were unironically dressed in outfits that heavily resembled the attire of a miner. Some of them were mildly normal, the usual shenanigans of the stylists for this parade: the pair from 1 dressed in outfits made up of luxurious feathers and the couple from 8 dressed up in a bunch of different materials of cloth.  

You shook your head; the atrocious aftertaste of this event was already beginning to weigh down on you. Not wanting to make accidental eye contact with you turned your gaze to your feet as you lightly leaned your back against the chariot. Soon, you thought to yourself, soon this would be over. In fact, everything would be. Heart heavy with thought, your mind wandered back to the wilderness outside of the walls, to the streets of 3, to your home. A memory; of your family waiting for you to finish washing your hands before you rushed to the dinner table. One that felt so long ago, so distant, so far away. And it made your chest clench in a pain that made your throat feel tighter as you realized, no, it was not a distant memory. It was just a few days ago. It was last Sunday.  

Closing your eyes, you let a deep breath of oxygen into your lungs, shaky in your action. One, two, three. Hold it. Exhale through your mouth calmly. One, two, three.  

You repeated this action two more times until you finally got your emotions under control. Clenching your teeth, your eyebrows furrowed momentarily before you resorted back to a neutral expression, mumbling to yourself, “this will be over soon” before opening your eyes. As the vision of your feet came back to you, you noticed a small difference in your sight. A small, round, white object right next to your feet.  

Much like many other times before today, your curiosity once again got the better of you as you leaned down to pick the item. It was deceivingly small on the ground; the actual size of it surprising you as it rested heavy on your palm, nearly as big as your thumb. It didn’t particularly have a smell, and you were certain it was not made of metal. Maybe it was a piece of jewelry instead? It couldn’t be from you or Yeonjun, though, you were certain your accessories did not have any jewels at all.  

“Are you going to give it back or are you going to keep looking at it?” 

You nearly jumped, eyes widening in surprise as you turned your gaze to your right, where the voice came from.  

If you thought Yeonjun looked captivating, this guy was bewitching. 

Blonde hair styled carefully away from his face, putting on the feline-like features on full display. Intimidating eyes boring into your soul, with a slightly annoyed expression, his peachy pink lips were downturned in a frown. His eyes were similar to yours, to the challenging look you gave to Minhyuk minutes ago, but they also held no resemblance to the playful undertones yours had. Hostile. 

Turning your body fully to the man in front of you, you took your time in taking in his appearance. Just as lean as Yeonjun, he stood tall. And again, like Yeonjun, he was partially covered in his costume. Though, unlike your partner, his whole torso was on display. Yet, his attitude refrained any blood in your body from assembling on your cheeks. What is it with all these glitters?  

His upper torso, however, was adorned with two different things: seashells and pearls. Colors ranging from different shades of blues, purples, and pinks. 

This was the second guy, you realized, the one following Changmin. 

The tribute from district 4. 

“Well? Are you going to gawk at me the whole day or are you going to give me my pearl back?” he was getting impatient, you could tell, as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“I’m sorry,” you gave him a puzzled yet skeptical look. “Have we met? Do I know you?” 

“Do you need to?” A raise of his light brown eyebrow. “We’ll be killing each other the first chance we get on the arena. I don’t think we would need to know each other when that happens.” 

Bewildered, you gave him a scoff that could pass as a slight laugh. “And you think that’s the correct way of asking for something?” 

“I am not asking, I am demanding,” He did not back down, eyes raking over your body in what you thought was a derogative manner. “Give me the damn pearl.” 

As you held yourself from licking or biting your lips in a moment of anger, not wanting to ruin the makeup or get glitter in your mouth, announcements were made; stylists and mentors were to clear the area and the tributes were to mount the chariots. Diverting your eyes from his, you glanced over to the side to see Yeonjun returning. Before he could reach to you two, and overhear the conversation, you clasped your fingers around the pearl and gave him a courageous look. A challenge. 

“Go to hell, asshole,” you took a few steps to the back of the chariot, stepping up on the platform. “I’m keeping it and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.” 

In a matter of seconds, where he was surprised or maybe rather dumbfounded, even, Yeonjun joined your side on the chariot, left hand holding onto the handle by his side. The other guy’s partner, the girl from 4, ushered him into their chariot as well. And there you were; left with a mix of emotions. Anger, from the altercation. Nervousness, from the event that was about to begin. Sadness, from realizing that there was no going back now. And a broken sense of longing, as you could imagine how Jeongin would make gagging noises if he ever saw you this dolled up. 

As the drums and the horns were heard, the cheering from outside began. Gulping in hopes that it would untangle the knot in your throat, you held your chin up and took a deep breath.  

“What were you guys talking about?” The small hope you had about Yeonjun not witnessing your conversation was dispersed upon his question. How could he not see it, really? 

“Nothing to worry about, he was just being annoying,” You brushed it off in a nonchalant manner, reaching your hand to clasp his as you were instructed by Orena this morning. He did not take the initiative, and it left you thinking that he never would maybe. But he did not protest either; simply holding your hand in an almost gentlemanly manner you did not expect from him. “Hey, Yeonjun?” 

“Hm?” 

“Don’t laugh but,” You closed your eyes and braced yourself mentally for the question you were about to ask. “Is there glitter on my back? Like, on my skin?” 

He returned your question with a confused look, eyebrows furrowing for a second before he leaned back a little, the heat back on your cheeks as his eyes skimmed over your exposed back. He stood there for a moment, blinking for a second before he turned his body back a bit, looking at something you could not be bothered to find out before he turned forward again. 

“The answer to that would be yes,” He cleared his throat. “And whatever you said to this dude, he does not look happy about it.” 

“Just ignore him, please,” You pleaded with a dry tone, not wanting to hint away at the context of your conversation as the chariots suddenly began to move, one by one, out of the building. As your chariot moved, you nearly lost your balance again, clasping onto Yeonjun’s hand tighter. He did not question it, as he must have thought it was nervousness or something. You went to grab the handle on your right side, but stopped as you remembered the pearl you were clutching. Fuck. 

You could not give it to Yeonjun for safekeeping, as your dress did not have any pockets. Maybe you could step on it? No, you could barely stand on these boots. The boots. Looking down on your leg, you realized that there was no better choice for now. Acting as sneakily as you could, trying to make it look like you were briefly adjusting the material around your thighs, you slid the sphere object between the material and your skin, ignoring the slight feeling of tightness it brought with it before standing straight again, right before your chariot was out. 

You saw this place before, on TV nonetheless, but you have seen it. It was big, almost four times bigger than the district square back in 3, where the administrative buildings were located. You knew what to expect, but still, as your chariot followed the other two in front, passing through the drums and the horns, you felt like you were just a tiny step, a slight push away from fainting.  

Small, that was what the only way you could describe it; you felt small.  

Thousands of Capitol citizens, all garbed in outlandish attires, vibrant colors on each, cheered and clapped on as the chariots began the parade down the long road in front of them. Looking around, you saw a different face each moment, almost making you nauseous thinking about just how many people were over the moon with what marked the beginning of this inhuman course of events that would end in the tragedy of 23 lives. Glaring around, you saw the digital banners on both sides. Nanotech. The live feed of each tribute on the chariots, on their respective sides, as each carriage passed by. You saw the face of the first tribute’s girl change into the face of the second, smiling mischievously at the crowd, a bold fire in her eyes, a promise of glory. 

“It will be us next,” Yeonjun called over all of the voices, looking at you with a small fondness that you have never seen coming from his usually neutral eyes. “You don’t have to smile, or wave, but you know it will be helpful for us if you do.” 

Taking in his words quickly, you gave his hand a small squeeze, determination in your eyes as you gave him one last glance before turning to your own side.  

You were never good at lying, as your parents were successful in passing that to you. But for now, you had to lie, in front of the whole country. You had to play pretend. You had to stand tall and smile, even though all you wanted to do was to sit and cry. 

You just hoped your father would not disapprove of your choice; your mother would not feel disappointed. And Jeongin; oh, Jeongin... 

Shaking your thoughts away, you pulled on your lips as much as you could, relaxing your eyes into a cordial form as you raised your hand, though it betrayed you a bit, making your wave look more timid than it was intended. Your gaze focused on nothing in particular, just looking ahead as hundreds upon hundreds of faces passed. Many of them throwing flowers your way, beautiful colors of petals hitting the pure beige ground. A single peony fell inside your chariot, between you and Yeonjun. He did not pay any mind to it, simply waving at the crowd with a suave smile as your gaze lingered on the pale pink flower before returning to your duty. As soon as you could tell that the banners had shifted onto the tributes of 4, you lowered your hand, though trying to keep up the smile to your best abilities. 

The road seemed almost endless, dragging on for what felt like hours until your ride reached the square in front of the awaiting president and the high socialites along with the politicians. Her. 

President Chesters. 

You did not know, as your chariot came to a resting stop, if you could hide the sour feelings you felt inside from the outside, but you did not care at all. This woman did not deserve the faux smile you gave away to the citizens. 

As you waited for the other chariots to take their places, forming a close crescent on the ground beneath the president, your mind busied itself once again, unbeknownst to Yeonjun, who was clueless about the hurricanes you had been experiencing in your own mind. This time your mind, however, wandered onto the shore of memories. You remembered all the executions that took place on the district square of 3, every time your family was concerned with being able to feed you and Jeongin, all the deaths of your people from the past years, and all the deaths that would occur in a matter of days, including yours. 

The last one, however, seemed to ignite a fire within you. A fire, so hot, so bright; burning with passion and hatred.  

You did not deserve to die. 

As soon as the last chariot found its place, and the music stopped, your mind came back down to an ease. And soon, the devil in her signature blue, minimalistically royal attire started her damn speech. 

“I welcome you all, my dear citizens of Capitol, my people in the districts, and every native of Panem.” 

You wanted to gag. 

You started looking around again, trying to bury yourself in your thoughts, the space of your mind again. Anything to think about rather than listening to this fiend of a woman. Then, in a nearly accidental gaze to your right, you saw that the chariot of 4 was parked right next to yours. And seeing as the males stood on the left side, the pearl boy was the closest person to you in this formation. 

You didn’t mean to stare, because just like how you felt about President Chesters, this guy did not deserve a second thought, a second glance his way either. And you had to repeat it to yourself to make yourself feel better: You did not mean to stare, but you did. And what you saw left you baffled. 

Contempt; nothing but pure disdain, despisal, distaste. Hatred. 

His was facing straight ahead, eyes piercing up and into the skull of President Chesters, as she went on about her speech. You could see his cheeks move slightly, perhaps clenched teeth? The hand gripping the handle on his side tightly, the color in his knuckles almost fading into white as the fingers of his other hand, placed on top of the wood on the front, drummed away in rapid taps. 

Then, slowly, as if he felt your gaze on him, he turned his head to you, locking eyes with you once again.  

You knew that look should have scared you, made you feel timid and feeble; maybe make you cower behind Yeonjun, even, as he looked at you like a predator.  

You, however, were no prey. At least not for him, you weren’t. You refused to be. Because you understood, at least in that moment, that gaze was not for you. His loathing, hostility was not directed for you at that very moment. And you understood. So, almost like on autopilot, you did the first thing that came to your mind: turned your head slightly to the president, looking her way for a few seconds, not masking your own antipathy before looking back to him again, followed by a small nod to his way. In response, he raised an eyebrow as well as his chin, head tilting just a smidge to back. And you nodded again, firmer this time. 

An affirmation. An acknowledgement. A common ground. 

“... and by the nature of the Hunger Games, I am excited to announce that this year, following the tradition of the Quarter Quells, the 100th Hunger Games will hold two winners. Regardless of their district or genders, the last two tributes remaining will be the victors of the 100th Hunger Games!” 

You felt the world stop at your feet. The cheers of the crowd pierced through your ears as they people almost screeched with enthusiasm now, going almost crazy over this “exciting news”. You turned to look at Yeonjun, only to see him looking back at you with an unreadable expression. You studied his eyes, patiently waited for him to flash any types of emotions, but to no avail. Not being able to read him was slowly angering you, so opted to look down to not cause an altercation with him too. Then, you saw it again. The pale peony. 

Now that the chariot was no longer moving, you let go of his hand and reached down, picking up the delicate flower with a careful grasp. He observed you as you held the flower on both hands, resting the dainty petals on top of your palms. Your heart felt heavy for the nth time today, chest heaving with the sharp yet broken breath you took. A single tear, pearly as it dragged the glitter of your makeup down along the way, rolled down your right cheek as you took in the tender beauty of the flower. 

Who cares if they changed the rules? You would not live to see the end of it anyway. 

#skz fic #stray kids fic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fic #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfiction #hyunjin angst #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenario #skz imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #hyunjin x fem!reader #skz

[calif0rnia-lovers]

four letters.

a/n: 1/10 of stories I was initially hesitant to post. not glorifying adultery, just an idea i got from this song.

part: 1/3

pairing: miguel galindo x elena

warnings: themes of adultery. not really smut in this part, it's literally a paragraph?

summary: they met when Miguel's family would visit during the summer. each summer vacation was a mixture of stolen glances and moments. time has passed, and summers are no longer theirs. every time he leaves Mexico, he leaves her with a promise. one day he'll be hers--and only hers. years in and Elena must decide if what she feels for Miguel is love, or something else.

words: 1.9k

Diamonds.

Universally, they represent love. A promise of commitment. A priceless gift you give the woman who has your heart. A gift with the power to project the facade of happiness. A gift with the power to distract even the most intelligent woman from her man’s past mistakes.

And for that reason, diamonds are Miguel’s favorite gift to give.

Each call to his jeweler inspires a substantial chunk of change and a customized gift. The said gift is invariably dressed in a black velvet box, sealed with a golden ribbon. Delivered to an office in Sinaloa on the same day, always two months apart.

Always accompanied with a neatly penned note. A date, time, and location. Short and to the point, signed M.

It arrives two days before him. The need to reschedule, or the mention of a conflict in scheduling, never allowed.

Each delivery carries the same false promise.

One day, my love.

This time, his promise comes in emerald green.

Pressed and shaped into glimmering flowers to accent the black dress she wears. Although the dress itself is a beautiful work of art, fitting as though it was designed just for her, no one is focused on Elena’s dress.

Their focus is on the dollar sign hanging from her neck. It’s impossible to miss. Only so many people, in Sinaloa, could afford such a beautiful piece. With her long dark locks pinned, to rest at the top of her head, Miguel’s necklace is on full display. Paired with her beauty, it is distracting. So distracting, no one notices the matching hairpins.

"You look beautiful as always."

Her heart flutters. A soft smile brightens Elena's face as a familiar warmth trickles down her spine.

A soft kiss ghosts the curve of her shoulder, Miguel's smile coming to rest against her cheek.

“I see my gift suits you well.” His touch lingers against the curve of her neck, pausing to trace the petal of an emerald flower. The smile on his lips is one of admiration, his playful eyes briefly lifting to meet hers. “It seems you’ve attracted the attention of the entire restaurant.”

“Don’t sound too surprised, Mr. Galindo.” Elena’s eyes roll, the grin on her lips causing his to grow. “You’re acting as if this is something new. People always stare at me.”

“Trust me, I know. It's not something I particularly enjoy."

“Too bad,” Elena smiles, lifting her glass of wine to her lips. “I like it when people stare at me, and you are late. You’re lucky I didn’t leave with someone else.”

“Nicholas…” Miguel reads from the baby pink card.

The question in his tone is barely audible, bogged down by something Elena has never heard--at least not from Miguel. It is hard for her to pinpoint. But as she pushes her heels aside, she’s almost certain it is jealousy.

She rounds the corner to find Miguel standing in the center of her kitchen. He has stripped himself of his jacket the white fabric draped carelessly across the back of a nearby stool. His back remains to her as she crosses the room. He does not turn to acknowledge her, even after she drops her purse to the countertop before him.

His focus is no longer on the message.

Ellie. Congratulations on the promotion. We should celebrate. Until then--enjoy your favorites. x Nicholas.

His attention has shifted to the vase of lilies and peonies. A mixture of pinks, white, and corals. A fresh take from the white roses Miguel typically sends.

"These are your favorites?" His thumb gently rubs the petal of a lily. His brow arches as he glances in her direction. "How come you never said anything?"

Elena's eyes lift from the hairpins resting in her palm. Shaking her curls loose, she lets off a tiny shrug.

"The roses are always very beautiful, Miguel." Standing on her toes, she places a kiss against his cheek. "I really appreciate them. You know that."

The words of reassurance are not enough to divert his attention. The soft kiss she leaves against his cheek earns her a glance.

“I didn’t realize you were...seeing anyone.”

“You mean, aside from the man who only comes to see me when his schedule allows?” The slight roll of her eyes tightens Miguel’s jaw. “Because that would be ridiculous.”

She ignores his expression, reaching around him to retrieve the card. She returns it to its original resting place.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Miguel states this as if it is a fact. “Not when you spent the last hour talking about us over dinner--.”

She can’t stop it. The laugh she releases silences Miguel. It is not a sound typically directed at him. It is a sound that makes his skin crawl, eats at him deep inside. Sparks the need to prove himself. It's a feeling he's hated his entire life.

“I’m sorry,” Elena clears her throat, the smile remaining on her lips as he focuses his scowl in the direction of the lilies. “It’s just. I thought we didn’t do that.”

Miguel chooses not to respond. Instead, he focuses on undoing his cuffs. He knows she’s right.

They don’t do that--share personal details about their lives. Or probe for them. In fact, at this point, they’re typically already undressed--the idea of talking about their lives the last thing on their minds.

Elena watches Miguel’s gaze return to the bouquet. They study the flowers before passing over the darkened living room. Searching for other intrusions, signs of another man, that were not here during his last appearance.

“Come on, Mikey,” she sings softly. The warmth of her palms brings his gaze to hers. “Did you come all the way here just to ruin my weekend?”

The corner of his lips turns up. His gaze drops, following the path of Elena’s touch. It drifts down the chest of his shirt pausing to undo the buttons.

“Because I thought you came because you missed me. Isn't that what you said on the phone?” Her lips press against the curve of his jaw, her smile growing as his lips instinctively move to meet hers. She giggles, turning to grind back against him. “So, show me how much you missed me.”

His response is immediate, his hands pressing into the curves of her hips. The weight of his chest pressing her body forward and towards the closest stable surface. With her heels abandoned, her weight shifts to her toes. She stumbles forward in a clumsy attempt at maintaining her balance. She gasps as the chill of the marble countertop presses against the heat of her cheek. A perfect contrast to the hot and heavy hands pushing up the skirt of her dress. Their first exchange is always the same. Quick and messy. Both focused solely on satisfying the need that has built up in their time apart. The note is fresh in his mind and fuels his movements. Bruise his fingers into her hips, leaves her breathless as he sets a pace that nearly splits her open.

Elena can feel the warmth of her cheeks slowly creeping throughout her body as she concentrates on the task at hand.

"What?"

Instead of lifting her gaze, to meet the ones watching her every move, she tries for a second time to tug down the zipper of her dress.

Miguel doesn't speak. Instead, he motions for her to turn around.

The silence, which falls over the darkened kitchen, is a part of the routine. One that lasts long enough for their pulses to taper off. For their highs to drift away, opening their minds to reality.

Elena focuses on the glow of moonlight on the marble before her.

She breaks the silence, her words soft as she tries to press out any sign of hopefulness in her voice. Sounding eager about any aspect of their arrangement has never turned out good.

"Are you leaving tonight?"

The room is quiet, Miguel's fingers pausing for the briefest of seconds. He shifts forward, ducking down to allow his lips to press a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

"Not tonight." A soft smile finds his lips as she glances over her shoulder at him. "It's your birthday tomorrow. I wouldn't miss it."

She can't suppress the smile that spreads across her face as his lips press against her cheek. His eyes drop to the watch on his wrist as she turns to face him.

“Looks like we got two hours before it's officially Saturday," he chuckles as her arms wrap around his neck.

"Is it too early to start with my birthday demands?"

His response is a soft kiss, his hand drifting to the nape of her neck. It's a kiss that melts her body into his, knotting his fingers in the softness of her hair. By the time he’s pulled away, her pulse is unsteady. His lips brush against her forehead, his touch lingering against her skin before he takes a step back.

"I'll start the bath." He grins, his eyes drifting towards the wine across the room. “Get a bottle or two, and join me.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.”

Her eyes close as his lips press against her forehead. They remain closed as she listens to his footsteps track through the quiet house. They soon fade out as he reaches the top of the steps, and Elena allows her eyes to open.

Her breath catches, her teeth tugging at her lip as her fingers gently brush against her neck. She finds herself standing before the mirror at the base of her steps. Her eyes pass over her reflection, lingering on her disheveled curls, the flush of her cheeks, her swollen lips, the hazy green glow from the moonlit flowers against her skin.

Her fingers comb through her hair, gathering the locks and pushing them over her shoulder. Unlatching the clasp, she carefully places the necklace on the countertop. She leaves it alongside the emerald hairpins. The breath she takes is deep. Her lungs hold the air until they begin to burn. With the weight of her necklace gone her shoulders fall, feeling weightless, as she exhales.

The excitement of his admission bubbles in her stomach, her hands clasping together as she forces herself to take a second breath. This time, as she excels, the excitement slowly deflates.

Getting your hopes up is foolish, Ellie.

Elena turns and crosses the dark kitchen in search of wine.

She retrieves two wine glasses from the cabinet. She pauses, elbows resting against the countertop, as she studies the bottles of wine on display against the cream backsplash. Her fingers stop short of her bottle of choice as a faint jingle fills the quiet room.

Abandoning the task at hand, Elena naturally retrieves her purse. The rose gold iPhone she finds inside is silent, screen pitch black. The ringing is louder now. Her head turns, her brow furrowing, as she looks towards the white jacket draped across the back of the stool to her right.

There is a brief moment of hesitation. A voice of warning--telling her "leave it"--in the back of Elena's mind as she reaches for the jacket.

A silence falls over the room--a blessing in disguise. It is her out. The reminder for Elena to adhere to the promise she made herself the moment she met Miguel Galindo.

Never snoop--never bite off more than you can chew.

What is the saying about curiosity?

With the touch of her finger, the screen illuminates. It reveals a missed call from Emily Galindo. It is not the name that gives Elena pause, but the photo behind the notification. A photo Elena has never seen or anticipated. A photo that breaks the fantasy Elena has spent the evening willingly participating in.

The fantasy typically lasts a few more hours. The one where they both pretend Miguel doesn’t have another life he has built outside of her. A life Miguel's never provided insight into. A life Elena has never asked--nor searched--for details on.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t have been blindsided by what all his life across the border entails.

The round brown eyes staring back at her own are innocent. Accompanied by a head of dark curls and soft cheeks. The blue top the infant wears matches Miguel’s jacket.

Miguel wears a smile--a distinct smile. The smile wore by every proud father.

One day, my love. I just need time.

The soft plea echos through her mind. It is the same he has whispered each departure when she has asked him to stay--even if just for an hour longer.

Time.

It’s all he’s ever needed. And all she has given.

The arrival of a message paints Elena’s kitchen in a blue glow--breaking her haze of confusion surrounding this new revelation.

Hope you made it safely. Call me when you’re settled. Love you.

Elena's stomach tightens as she rereads the message.

She jumps, her body scrambling to catch the phone as it nearly slips through her fingers. Miguel’s voice drifts down the stairs.

“Need help picking the wine?”

“No--it’s okay. I'm coming.” Elena shakes her head, returning the phone to its original place. She replaces the phone with two wine glasses, mindlessly grabbing the closest bottle.

mayans tags:

@appropriate-writers-name @rosieposie0624 @jjwriter23 @briskywalker @princesspeachypeach @cind-in-real-life @rocketqueen @brownsugarcoffy @chibsytelford @maybeisthemoon @jatriciaaa @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @chellybear98 @silverstarsandsuns @henrycavill19 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @mayansxlover @holl2712 @pedropcl

@inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @cocotheclown @cant-decide-at-this-moment @helli4nthus @megapeacelovemusic-blog @est1887 @demonquartz @bucky-iss-bae @thesandbeneathmytoes @sesamepancakes @shawty-fenty @peoniarose @starrynite7114 @agoldin @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @wiccanmetallicrose

#got a covid vaccine yesterday and woke up feeling like i was hit by a truck #super groggy atm #let me know what you think of this so far? #miguel galindo #miguel galindo imagine #mayans mc imagine

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Writing Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @noire-pandora! <3

Time to show people just how much of a baby I am in the fanfic world~! >:3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

A total of ten! Mainly because I lump drabbles together for easy access!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

....273502 words so far. :3 I like words. Words are good. Words are friends. 

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows (the very first rendition!) - 48 kudos

Emerald Eyes Amidst Golden Vows - Bound Brighter - 24 kudos

A Dragon’s Hope - 15 kudos

Dragon Drabbles - 13 kudos

Poetry of Wolves - 11 kudos

(Honestly, the progression of style change in each of these fics is terrifying to me. I look back on the last one, and I’m like, ‘Oh my god.’ X’D) 

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do, on occasion, respond! Though I may use a lot of words while writing, when it comes to communication? I suck. XD But, I do get extremely, extremely excited whenever I see a comment in my inbox, and I do go back and re-read them when I’m feeling down about my writing! I usually respond when a person asks questions, but I try to read them as rhetoric since I don’t want to spoil too much! X3 So, to everyone who has left me comments on my fics: THANK YOU. I do really appreciate and adore them. :3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Many of my short fics (those ranging from one to two chapters) all end relatively happy. I like angst, but I also enjoy making characters that are usually somber and stressed a little lighter. :3 If we want to get technical, then the first several chapters of my main fic all have rather angsty endings because the beginning of Fane’s journey is...heh. It’s not easy, and it’s not supposed to be. 

Although, now that I look, a very old fic of mine called ‘A Dragon’s Guilt’ has a rather angsty ending. Basically, Solas’ frescoes in the rotunda send Fane into a momentary spiral, and it was me playing with Adamant possibilities before he was ‘set in stone’. Panic attacks and mixed memories galore! :D

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

*rifes through my fics* Uhhhh... All of them? :3 Okay, okay! No, if I had to choose it would have to be...one of the short stories in ‘Dragon Drabbles’. It’s a four part story (and my first hand at smut >:3) that’s titled ‘Existence is Not a Sin’. It starts off angsty, but by the end it’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that I’m like, “...How did I write this?” X’D ...I’m actually thinking of re-writing a lot of my previous fics just to see if I’ve improved with writing! :D

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not write crossovers, but I’m open to the idea! Sadly, my brain hyperfixates on one thing at time, so my imagination is limited. X’D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven’t, and I’m very grateful that I haven’t. To be honest, when I started writing and posting, I expected to get hate (prepare for the worst, you know?) because I was doing something that wasn’t really the ‘norm’ for a lot of people. After all, people are entitled to their own interpretations and mine some times don’t link up with someone else’s. I understand that, and I respect that, but some people...don’t offer the same courtesy. All I’ll say is, if you don’t enjoy my content, don’t read it. We’re all adults, so shrug your shoulders, say, “Not for me”, and move on. Just know that if you do leave a hate comment, you will receive no reply, no fuel. So, don’t waste your time and don’t waste mine. Simple as that. I’m here to share and make people smile, not argue. :3

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have. Once, and I for the life of me can’t figure out how to do it again. X’D I’m very into soft intimacy; gestures and actions that speak a thousand words. Close positions (missionary, straddling, etc.) and a lot of eye contact with some healthy crying in the mix. *winks* I’m kind of inching towards a theme of ‘body worship’ when it comes to Fane and Solas because those two.. *sighs* They really need to shown that they are beautiful people; inside and out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not. Thank God. XD All I’ll say is this though, you steal my fic, my son and claim them as your own? *gets close to the screen* I will track you down and demand a talk. Don’t steal other’s hard work. Don’t. Writing is not easy, and it takes weeks, months, years for authors to pump out their inspiration, so don’t steal that labor just because you want to say you could. Same goes for drawings and pieces of art. Don’t.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! English is my first language, but I understand some French! :D 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t, but the idea is intriguing to me sometimes! I’m just a tad unreliable due to how my mood ebbs and flows. I have very long dry spells. X’D

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Solavellan! >:D While I write solely M!Lavellan/Solas, I do support all genders and orientations for the ship! Because I didn’t get into the ship because of what I saw, it’s what it meant to me. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*side eyes my main fic* LISTEN. It’s coming! I swear. I’m just having intense writer’s block with my main fic, and I’m not sure why. That’s why I’ve been messing with prompts and drabbles. X’D There’s also my modernAU, too.. *sweats* TIIIIIME! WHERE ARE YOU?!

What are your writing strengths?

Describing emotions. I like emotions. Emotions are nice. :3

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Mainly because Fane...doesn’t speak much at the beginning of his journey. He’s very curt, short, so I have hard time incorporating other’s reactions to him. I’m getting better though, I think! :D

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m for it! Sometimes that little splash of altering dialect can draw someone in and establish a connection! Language connects us, and it’s never too late to try and learn so as to reach out to another! :D

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, my beloved~ 

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

A short story of mine called ‘Blood in the Snow’. It was one of my very first fics and it was the first time I was like, ‘This Lavellan is my muse. I can do so much with him.’ It was just so fun to write a vulnerable moment for Fane, but still keep him locked up. ...It was also where I went, ‘Oh. This is Solavellan Hell. I wasn’t meant to go there, but I DID.’ X’D

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @little-lightning-lavellan @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @rosella-writes @aymayzing @drag-on-age @varric-tethras-editor and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course! <3)

#did i get a little harsh with a few of the questions? perhaps~ >:3 #art theft and hate comments are touchy subjects for me XD #art can be critiqued but it has to be productive or at least civilly worded #don't come at someone just to make them feel like shit #and shall i say; i've only been writing fanfic for a year #A YEAR #not even actually #*looks back* ... #my first fic was in december of last year so yeah. not even a year yet #*laughs nervously* #tagged #about me