#Method Mag

[checkthefeed]

[ FEARING BLISS | Full Movie 2023 ]

The Simpson Brothers & Method Mag present you FEARING BLISS.

This is the latest movie made by our beloved Simpson Brothers and their entourage!

BLISS: "Reaching a state of perfect happiness, oblivious of everything else." In search of bliss, we realised that we feared it. Breaking a camera, deciding not to name shots, and in general trying to "break the mould" that we had gotten ourselves into, FEARING BLISS is letting go of invisible rules whilst striving for our best.

Featuring: Jake Simpson @jake_the_snake1 Joe Simpson @brain_half_full Alex Taferner @tafernair Dusan Kriz @dusankriz Simon Pircher @simonpircher Hrund Thor @hrundur Senna Van Drunen @tweakh.art Mehdi Soltane @alpasdechiko Tom Cordier @_tomcordier Marko Malsub. @narko.nalsub Sponsored by: Drake Snowboarding @drake_snowboarding Spy Optics @spyoptic

[xxplastic-cubexx]

pov: you are charles xavier and you have been invited onto asteroid m

bonus:

[p-clodius-pulcher]

RIP Sulla MastersofRome you would’ve loved a 17 step skin care routine

[viriborne]

Do u think Lilia forces Malleus, Sebek, and Silver to help him dye his hair

[scxttershot]

Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. catman!

Floyd - Tomcat. U up still??

[is typing...]

Floyd - I'll regret this in the morning. Drungk. Drunk. Very. Thinking about your eyes. Don't take this the sappy way or nothign. They're just s o fucjing green. Like emeralds. I can see my reflection.

[is typing...]

Floyd - How did you get all the good genes

[magpiethepunkfairy]

I once went on an internet rabbit hole deep dive that started at torture methods, into like, CIA/government experiments and ended with me reading the entirety of the unit 731 Wikipedia page. I did this for probably 4-5 hours before going to bed.

I have a very hard time actually keeping information in my head so I can't info dump without anything prepared, but I will share my favorite fact which is really just a definition but:

Vivisections are essentially autopsies done on living things, technically it's just surgery done on living things to view like internal structures for experiments.

autistics who get obsessed with stuff people typically find too creepy or gross or dark to discuss PLEASE infodump in the comments

[neverheroes]

Just because I’ve never seen anyone mention that Bayverse Raphael has scarification on his right shoulder, here’s a post.

In 2016 he has a half sleeve tattoo over the scar. It’s still there.

I do see people mention their 2016 tattoos a lot but for those who didn’t know, you’re not the only one. Leo and Mike have matching tattoos on opposite arms, but all of their character designs are so complex and the lighting throughout tends to be so dark that some people don’t even notice.

Leo has a band on his left upper arm, something on his outer right forearm with a lower cuff, and a turtle motif on his upper right arm. Mike has the same turtle motif on his left. Thanks to indiblueninja on reddit for the pic.

It is, yes, a bit insane to me that their shells and plastron are shown as being bullet proof but their skin is soft enough to be penetrated by tattoo needles. The hard scars I get, blades to the face and all, but tattoo needles can get all bent just from touching the bottom of an ink cup and they blunt as they’re used. Raph’s artist (and I suspect that’s Donatello, who has no tattoos, potentially because he’s the only one who knows how to do it, right? Weird hc but here we are.) probably went through like six mags to get that done hahaha. [footnote that in repost it was noted that they pretty obviously had them done with the tebori method. Thanks tumblr braintrust]

[1nk20ul]

Discovering Jon and Martin’s Birthdays

It’s a wonder how much you can uncover about The Magnus Archives using only a bit of mathematics and a smidge of psychology.

Apparently I have too much time for both and can definitively say that I have revealed the absolute best and most accurate dates for both of their birthdays. Feel free to join me as we dissect piece by piece when these two were born and put to rest the age old question: What is Jon’s zodiac sign?

I’ll put the results in the tags as a TLDR if you’re not interested in reading my method and simply care about what star sign they are or what date to put in your calendar so you can go out for ice cream.

Statement Begins.

To find out the birthdays of Jon and Martin, we first must determine when exactly they joined the Archives. This will be important for the wider picture, as after all, the earliest possible birthday must take place after they start working there. We also must understand the Archive team’s speed in order to understand how to space out our statements and find that aforementioned number.

Gertrude Robinson passed away, according to her file, on the 15th of May 2015. This makes 15th May our earliest possible starting date. The next time the day’s date was specified was on 13th January 2016, when Naomi Herne gave a live statement. This is MAG 13, and our latest start date. Obviously, these numbers are nowhere close to the day we’re looking for, but they act as upper and lower limits. Our answer is somewhere inside.

In Jon’s supplemental notes for MAG 12, he states that Gerard Keay passed away late the previous year. Since Gertrude died after Gerard in early 2015, he must have died in late 2014. This confirms that MAG 1-12 was recorded to tape in 2015. We know that MAG 13, the next statement, was given live on 13th January 2016. This creates, at the very least, an almost two-week gap between archiving statements. This is likely due to the holiday season, so the time between 24th December and up to 1st January can be omitted. To recap, MAG 1-12 was recorded in 2015, and MAG 13 onwards in 2016.

The key to determining archival speed lies with Martin. Martin goes missing right before MAG 17 and reappears at the end of MAG 21. As he gave such a detailed account of those two weeks, our archiving timeline can be significantly accurate. MAG 19-20 were more than likely recorded on the same day, meaning three separate recording sessions took place in two weeks. However, it took a minimum of six weeks to record MAG 14-16.

So far, the timeline looks like this:

Now we have to figure out the left half.

Calculating the average time it takes to archive statements from MAG 13-22 (removing any outliers from our calculations), we can find a true average and apply it to the 2015 year. By March of The Magnus Institute’s 2016 calendar year, the Archive staff was able to archive 1.31 statements per week. I double-checked this number by doing the same with the statements recorded between MAG 22 and MAG 39. By multiplying the average amount of weeks it should take them by the adjusted number of statements recorded, it should equal the number of weeks it actually did take them. If the numbers are the same, the average is reliable. Hoping for the number 20, the number of weeks I had calculated... was 20.11. This average seems relievingly trustworthy and fits Elias’ complaint about the staff “barely getting through one statement per week.”

All we have to do now is multiply the first 12 statements by the 1.31 average to determine how many weeks it most likely took to do the recorded work of 2015. This leaves us with 15.72 weeks and makes the earliest and most probable start date somewhere around 5th September 2015. I will round this to 1st September as I am not expecting the team to start working on statements right out the gate, so these extra four days act as a buffer for everyone to get their bearings and find the tape recorder. Also, it’s convenient for Elias’ financials to start everyone on the 1st of the month.

Now is the fun part - the birthdays. We now know that Jon and Martin’s birthdays must fall somewhere between early September and the end of February. Since March kicks off the Archives living with the threat of Jane Prentiss, they have to take place before then. After that point, the team is far too stressed to have the carefree party heard in MAG 161. We also know that Martin’s birthday has to come before Jon’s, as the team mentions going out for ice cream at Jon’s party. This event has to be long enough in the past for Jon to forget about it, so their birthdays must be reasonably spaced out from one another in the allotted time. Likewise, an amount of time must have passed after their start date for the team to be close enough bond to want to celebrate Martin’s birthday.

Martin’s birth year is easy to determine. Martin tells us his age in MAG 56. His birthday could not have happened at this point in 2017, so his birth year must be 1987. In a Q&A, it was speculated that Jon and Martin have birthdays near each other (and one being slightly older than the other), so only 1987 and 1988 are our options for Jon’s birth year. Let’s look a bit closer at that.

Early ‘88 is closer to Late ‘87 than Early ‘87. At Jon’s birthday party, he says he’s turning 38. Martin is 29 at this time. The obvious conclusion to me is that Jon simply adds a decade to his age. (I find this the most hilarious yet believable scenario.) Jonny was also born in 1988, being 28 himself when that scene would take place. As Jon’s childhood details sometimes mirror Jonny’s, I am taking this as a sign of accuracy.

And by doing some additional work that I will not share here, I can reliably say that these are the best observed birthdays for Jon and Martin:

Martin - 23rd November, 1987

Jonathan - 2nd Febuary, 1988

Also, this makes Martin a potential Valentine’s Day Baby. Do with that what you will.

Thanks for reading!

(Full timeline for those who are interested:)

[blackcrowing]

Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

My Kofi

[kneelingshadowsalome]

thinking about how konig can’t get his hands to stop roaming when cuddling <3 being so touchy feely of reader’s soft thighs and back and arms and tummy <3 how big and heavy and warm his hands are omg ok i’m done

Just imagine trying to escape his cuddles… This man weighs a ton because he's so tall and most of that body mass is muscle so when he comes to the bed it sags so that you practically roll downhill and straight into his arms ❤️

König loves to be the big spoon, loves to squish you against him, just enough to hear a frustrated whimper or two. After he's hugged you "enough" he goes to your tits (yes he's a simple man), just paws and rubs them gently, then slides his palm down to your tummy and draws you closer to him even though there's not a hair's breadth between you two.

All your softest parts seem to drive this guy completely crazy! He's used to squeezing hard metal, being rough and methodical with mags and knives and guns so caressing you feels like he's holding warm velvet in his hands.

Fervent kisses are placed on your neck until you're whining because your skin starts to get sensitive, and you try to turn… But as soon as you face his chest he crushes you against him again like you're just a cuddly little teddy bear.

He loves your hips, loves how wide they are compared to his, caresses your thighs like they're pure silk. If you ask him to massage your back he's happy to oblige. He runs his hands all over you, reverently: you look so smol compared to him and his hands, your body is so different from his, he's just fascinated. And because he's also fascinated by softness, the promised back rub soon turns into König massaging your ass...

When he's had enough of you (for now) he falls asleep, just like that. You're trapped there under heavy arms because König won't let you go even when he's conked out. He's used to getting sleep whenever he can, that's the first thing he learned as a young Jagdkommando soldier, and he's used to sleeping outside, in cold planes and cold houses, so when he decides it's time to get some shut eye his body heat automatically shoots up to keep him warm.

He's blazing and you're sweating, but if you try to move he only tightens the hug and grumbles in his sleep – no one is going to take you away from him.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Why doesn't Marx want Kirby to forgive him, is it just the guilt thing?

Long story short, this is a combination of "the fear of getting hurt/rejected" & "shame and guilt," which results in self-sabotaging, but the main reason is...

HAMELIN REALLY MESSED UP MARX!

So, like Kirby with Cappytown... Marx was Hamelin's hero, but they betrayed him and thus turned to the dark side.

This all ties into his initial hatred for Kirby... he's very much angry at his former self for being so foolishly naive, and Kirby's good nature is too reminiscent of his former self.

That also makes it the main reason he could never truly hate Kirby... a younger self that he can't help but connect with. Leading to his "fake friend act" to accidentally grow to care for him and actually want him as a friend.

However, Marx knows he deceives Kirby the same way the people of Hamelin did to him... "pretending they cared for him." Using the very same methods, the townsfolk did to him... ("became what he hated")

This is why Marx doesn't have the heart to forgive himself... even though Kirby was always ready to forgive him and welcome him back with open arms. Because he knows he can never forgive the people of Hamelin... Why should Kirby? And, of course, he does!

The restoration of a friendship between Marx & Kirby happens~, But unlike the people of Hamelin, Kirby has this unconditional love for Marx and wants more than anything to have him back in his life.

I'd say these events happened after Planet Robboot... Marx finally makes his return and "saves Kirby?!" (I'm not gonna reveal from what because of spoilers)

With my interpretation of Marx, I wanted to take him into a sympathetic route (to make him stand out from the others). He still has the sass and mischievous charm, but I wanted to give him a proper reason why he is the way he is. It's a more heartfelt version of Marx that Kirby would want to be friends with and him in turn.

Marx represents "self-worth"; if people don't appreciate or treat you the way you deserve, then they don't deserve you. (Minus the piping all the Dark Matter back into the town as revenge...) KNOW YOUR WORTH AS A PERSON PEOPLE!

And he stands as one of the main reasons why Kirby ultimately chooses to become a star warrior. Moved out of the Popstar to travel and pursue his aspirations & dreams.

Please keep reading for spoilers & quick bonus comic~

So Arthur pretty much reveals Marx's backstory to the rest of the Kirby gang... and needless to say, they're speechless!

He still doesn't want to be forgiven, so he stays with Magolor (which I cover here with Magolor's lore), but yeah, of course, Marx opened up to Mags about Hamelin. And that's why Mags is there, while Kirby & Marx are back in his place telling his story to Kirby. (Kirby saw it because of "empathic touch" but didn't know the exact details of it..)

And Dragato, yeah, he was already on his redemption arc (Falspar's already went through his with Fluff, so he's there for moral support, plus it's the reason why Arthur partnered up together).... he already knew he messed up. But now, hearing the full story that he was, not only did he fall for the people of Hamelin's lies, but... MARX WAS THEIR HERO. (I know kinda of shoehorned the crew for the sake of missing the gang, I just missed them I had to...)

There's actually a small bit of tragedy... while the adults sold Marx out, the children who really loved him would've vouched for him... it'll tie back into his character later.

And I know it seems like I'm painting Dragato in such a bad light, but it's part of his character development. And for those of you who don't know... HIS MENTOR WAS DAME MORGAN (LE FAYE)! So yeah, high standards, little affection, never impressed~

Which is why I still need to establish her a bit more! More Morgan coming up soon

I'm trying to get to the old asks I wasn't able to answer before (since I was still developing the lore...) And I just need a little break from the tournament plus, I've been working on some Kirfluff stuff for Oct.: Kirfluff week!

Also, little funny side notes and gags' "Hero to Zero... Hercules" reference and Mag's little side comment. Based on the meme, "you ruined a perfectly good child..."

So, hope you guys enjoyed it!

[magnuspanoptes]

and when i say jon, elias, and gertrude were basically playing out du maurier's rebecca—

Sally Beauman, Afterword to Rebecca Rebecca is the story of two women, one man, and a house. Of the four, as Hitchcock once observed, the house, Manderley, is the dominant presence.

Heta Pyrhönen, Bluebeard's Accomplice: "Rebecca" as a Masochistic Fantasy First, however, she [Bluebeard's Wife] must pass a test of obedience: she must not visit Bluebeard's locked room. In Rebecca, the protagonist must not seek knowledge about Maxim's past, a past that has spatial correlates in Rebecca's bedroom and boathouse.

Heta Pyrhönen, Bluebeard's Accomplice: "Rebecca" as a Masochistic Fantasy According to the contradictory logic of the "Bluebeard" tale, the husband ensures that the stated goal of obedience is never reached. In Rebecca, Manderley continues to run according to Rebecca's instructions; no changes are made in the environs she designed; her study, bedroom, and wardrobe are left intact; and even the fancy dress ball follows her arrangements. By continuing his life at Manderley as if nothing has changed, Maxim prompts his second wife to ferret out his secret. When she seeks knowledge about Rebecca and imitates her, she acts according to his covert script.

Du Maurier's addition to the "Bluebeard" intertext is the dead first wife's participation, first by proxy

and then as a water-eaten body, in the drama being played at Bluebeard's house.

Sally Beauman, Afterword to Rebecca The first wife, Rebecca, is vivid and vengeful and, though dead, indestructible: her name lives on in the book’s title.

The second wife, the drab shadowy creature who narrates this story, remains nameless. We learn that she has a “lovely and unusual” name, and that it was her father who gave it her. The only other identity she has, was also bestowed by a man—she is a wife, she is Mrs. de Winter.

Sally Beauman, Afterword to Rebecca There is a final twist to Rebecca and it is a covert one. Maxim de Winter kills not one wife, but two. He murders the first with a gun,

and the second by slower, more insidious methods. The second Mrs. de Winter’s fate, for which she prepares herself throughout the novel, is to be subsumed by her husband.

in rebecca the narrator remaining nameless is meant to contrast rebecca's defiance of maxim with the narrator's acceptance of him. in the magnus archives, the obvious point being made re gertrude and jon's different recording signatures (simply her name vs his beholding title) is that unlike jon, gertrude refused to let herself be consumed by the eye and in turn, assist jonah with his plans (no, i'm not blaming jon for being manipulated by elias). also, jon's role as jonah's archivist results in his identity as an individual slowly being subsumed in a very literal sense as he gradually gives himself up to beholding. throughout season four he resembles elias more and more as he displays his powers. and then in the finale, mag 160 - "the eye opens", he becomes jonah/elias as he assumes his voice inflection, experiences his fear, speaks his words, and fulfills his goal of summoning the entities into their world.

+

Heta Pyrhönen, Bluebeard's Accomplice: "Rebecca" as a Masochistic Fantasy By confessing (to Rebecca's murder and his past), Maxim achieves his covert goal: he finds himself in the same marital structure as before. He places himself in the protagonist's hands, for now she has the power to destroy him. Du Maurier's Bluebeard is in the same situation with his second wife as with his first, for both can bring him the public humiliation he fears. Unlike Bluebeard's wives, they have the power to undo him.

MAG 1 - "Anglerfish" // MAG 67 - "Burning Desire" // MAG 152 - "A Gravedigger's Entry" // MAG 4 - "Pageturner" // MAG 40 - "Human Remains" // MAG 44 - "Tightrope" // MAG 122 - "Zombie" // MAG MAG 158 - "Panopticon" // MAG 160 - "The Eye Opens" // MAG 161 - "Dwelling" // MAG 200 - "Last Words"

[0l-unreliable]

I didn't mean to make this look like a porn mag cover, but I also didn't NOT mean to make it so. Anyway, i was trying a new coloring method and Andriel is, as always, the perfect subject/s

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.04 ~ ♆

“ You’re done, it’s okay. “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ previous part || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, almost drowning, etc

{{ word count }} 2.7 k

{{ outfits }}

{{ prompt }} The end of a grueling game leaves blood on your hands, the crimson stain is sticky, metallic, and permanent.

{{ a/n }} *evil laughter*

The 67th annual Hunger Games lasted twenty-one days.

Eight Tributes were killed in the bloodbath by the time night fell over the arena.

By the end of the first week, half of the reaped Distract’s children were gone.

For three days afterward, the arena was still in anticipation. Every twig cracking or howl of wind caused skittish responses from those left alive.

On the eleventh day, the trees sparked flames and pushed the remaining Tributes into the deadly maw of the ravine. Two more children died at the hands of the Game Makers.

Ten Tributes remain alive.

Finnick Odair hated attending the viewing parties of the Capital Elites. Loathing the sticky, manicured fingers of Capital elitists clutching at his burning skin or tugging at the disturbingly revealing tunic he’d been forced to wear. Each touch started to feel like a singe of flame licking up to eat away his sense of self. Sea-green eyes trained in a foggy haze toward the silver projections of the arena. The film moved, but he wasn’t absorbing any of the content, too occupied in attempting to drown out the awful commentary concerning the Games not being “nearly as entertaining as previous years.” and other ludicrous filth.

A flicker of something ghosted its fingers in a lingering touch over the boy’s heart when your crumpled form appeared on the silver screen. The Game Makers didn’t feature your whereabouts often due to a lack of activity. You had managed to huddle inside a rocky alcove near the bottom of the ravine but had fallen about eight feet down to get there. Not to mention the surely infected wound on your lower left leg. A thick swallow forced itself down his constricted throat, brows flickering into a creased position for only a second, the only tell of his reaction as his gaze fixated on you.

Finnick Odair wanted to hate you.

The potent sting of venom from your verbal altercation on the train weeks ago still rang true in the victor's thoughts. The two of you had barely met, yet you made assumptions in only two days and three conversations, spitting bitterness toward his ruthless "methods" in the Arena for his own survival. You hated him, and there wasn't anything he could do about that simmering hatred in your core.

But the irony of it all was that he agreed with you. He should be dead instead of here, living in such comfort paid for in the innocent blood of children he’d never known, but there was no way to take back the moral damage he’d done to survive. As much as nightmares plagued his slumber, he couldn’t change what he did. He’d committed atrocities all in the name of his own survival.

Finnick started to ponder whether this new position in the Capital city after President Snow proclaimed him “desirable” was worth “surviving” - but he had to protect Mags. He’d rather endure the torture or light himself aflame before allowing any harm to come to the older woman who loved him as her own son.

But watching you cower on that screen and panic without any hope you’d survive tugged a painful string in his chest.

Finnick Odair wanted to hate you.

As golden light filled the cavernous Arena on the sixteenth day, what remained of the two career packs destroyed one another. It had been three against two, and no one had left the battlefield alive.

Five Tributes remained.

By nightfall on the eighteenth day, mutts were set loose through the rocky cliffs. The mutations resembled bats but were five times the size with razor-sharp talons and excellent night vision. The wretched creatures spit a green mucus that amplified feelings of pain without physical damage needing to be done. The mutts targeted the shadowy alcoves, pushing Tributes further down while narrowly avoiding being pulled into the sky and dropped to their deaths. Two of the grotesque mutants discovered your alcove, spitting mucus that retched a shrill scream from your throat as white-hot pain shot like fire through your right side and across your drenched arm.

The pain was paralyzing. More screams were smothered outside your hideaway with a sickening ripping sound as a bat tore apart and dropped someone to the bottom. The knife in your hands trembled as the creatures corned you, their prowl slow and intense. Adrenaline flooded every fiber of your system as you used every ounce of fear and bitter determination to swing your blade at the sharp-toothed maws of the bats. Another pained scream tore from your lungs as the weapon made contact, and black blood splattered your cheek. The unharmed bat lunged, its talons sinking into your shoulder, and the pain was immeasurable as your screaming didn’t falter. With your good leg, you immediately force your knee up, and a cry emits from the mutt, stalling it for just enough time to plunge your blade through its skull. The feeling caused bile to rise up in your throat as you willed yourself to throw the creature off onto the other mutt. The second bat went down quickly.

The twenty-first and final day of the Games was the shortest.

Two days prior, a rock slide initiated by the Game Makers finally pushed the remaining three tributes, including yourself, to the bottom of the ravine. Rubble had added to your growing list of injuries in the form of scrapes and bruises. Your entire body felt lethargic on labored breaths. You couldn’t help wondering if you’d die as a result of the pain shooting through you or the infection in your leg taking over before another tribute found you. The other pair of Tributes must have also taken substantial injuries in the rockslide since things had been eerily still the past two days.

It was the wee hours of morning when the 67th Hunger Games finally ended.

You had spent the last few days hiding under a pile of rocks near the river, nursing your wounds with a near-empty tin of salve no larger than the palm of your hand. Thatcher had sent it. A small note simply saying “for your leg.” with their name at the bottom in fine print. The only downside to the sponsored gift was that you had to move from your previous hiding place after receiving it. If either of the remaining Tributes figured out where you were, you’d be dead. A seething hiss left your gritted teeth while applying the salve to the wound. The ointment stung with a strange cooling effect that shot like ice down your aching muscles.

You had to survive. You could try to continue to outlast the remaining tributes and allow them to destroy themselves like the careers did. Your chances were slim to none at this point. It was a feat in itself that you had lasted this long, to begin with. Currant Bush had been your only form of nutrition. The small berries had a tart flavor, but it was enough to keep you going, albeit barely. You hadn’t slept much, either. The abyss behind your eyelids held only reflections of the horrors the past month had inflicted upon you. Another hiss escapes as you shift your sitting position. Everything felt raw and grimy on your hands. The metallic scent of copper filled your nostrils, and crimson that wasn't yours caked your fingertips. A shaky exhale has your eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t stay in this position for much longer. Being a sitting duck wouldn’t help you. It’d only kill you.

Crack

The sound shocks your senses into focus, jolting you awake as your eyes snap open. The small blade you carry is in your hand in an instant, protectively placed in front of you as your eyes dart around the hollowed space. The sound of crunching gravel and debris underfoot continues somewhere above you. Your chances of running have vanished, and assuming by the chorus of sounds above, the two remaining Tributes were working together. Your breath hitched as the steps drew near.

Swallowing thickly, you do your best to move into a crouched position. You were cornered, but there was no way in hell you would go down without a fight. Shadows pass overhead through cracks in your hideaway, blocking out the small streams of silver moonlight. Your eyes fell to the small opening leading to your location. Slowly, you crept forward as quietly as possible in your current position. The crunching of rocks above you came to a sudden halt, as did your movements. A beat of silence passed before your prowl continued above and below.

The mouth of your makeshift cave pours dim light, elongated shadows further heightening the fear gripping your chest. After a deep inhale through your nose, you spring from your hiding place and attack. The least you could do was surprise your attackers in hopes of getting an advantage. Your move works. Scrambling across the rocks and swiping your blade, you manage to make contact with someone’s ankle, and a sharp cry rips from their throat. The other Tribute, a boy from District 2, launches his spear right for your skull. He thankfully misses as you duck down, the metal clattering somewhere beyond. Snapping your head back up, you look just in time for a knife to come swinging down. You move fast, but not fast enough, and the blade slices into your already wounded shoulder. A pained grunt leaves through gritted teeth, and you reach up and yank your attacker’s feet from beneath them. The Tribute goes down, her head smacking on the rocks, and an awful crunch comes from her nose as contact is made. You’re panting heavily, any air reaching your lungs coming at an expensive effort. Pure fear and adrenaline fuel your motives.

A knife whizzes past, slicing your cheek and in return, hurling your own blade at the male Tribute, landing square in the chest. Bile threatens to rise in your throat as he goes down, but you don’t get the chance to mourn or even think as you're thrown back. The last remaining Tribute has tackled you, the wind being forced from your lungs as ice-cold water rushes over your skin.

The River - you’re underwater.

Forceful pressure latches onto your throat, and your limbs aimlessly thrash in an attempt to release the constricting chokehold of your assailant. Water forces itself down your throat in a silent scream as your legs are pinned beneath you by the Female Tribute straddling your waist. Pure terror rips through your chest as death creeps closer. You were going to drown at the hands of a scared teenager and water. You couldn’t die.

You will not die.

One of your hands remains clawing at the fists around your throat while the other fumbles for a slick stone above your shoulder. It takes a few attempts to get enough grip, but as quick as your fingers wrap around the stone, it flies just as quickly into the skull of the Tribute above you. Instantly, you’re released, jolting upright and hurling water and bile in sputtering coughs over yourself while struggling to scramble away from your attacker. Blood dribbles down the stone in your hand. Your vision is hazy in the chaos, air barely reaching your lungs as you’re pounced on again and thrown back into the frigid water. The stone in your hand holds fast, whipping once more into the face of your assailant with a grotesque crunch of bone as warm blood splatters against your hand.

You thrust yourself out of the water, pouncing on the other Tribute. She goes down, head below the water, and blood seeps from both of your wounds, staining the water crimson. She thrashes under your grip, and with a shaking hand, you bring the stone in your hand down once more, another crunch sounding under the impact, and you’re sobbing. Not from fear, not from anger, but from pain. Pain and a harrowing sorrow at what you’re doing. You have to kill this girl to survive. You’re taking a soul from this world all in the name of saving your own skin. Bile roses in your throat as she stops moving.

The last canon of the 67th Hunger games fires.

It’s over.

Water splashes as you force yourself up, knees trembling, and away from the still body. You don’t make it far before crashing down to your knees on the riverbank. A raw, anguish-filled scream leaves your throat as tears pour and bile soon exits your mouth. Your whole body is shaking in shock at what you’ve just done. The disgust and shame at your actions weigh heavy on your shoulders, and tinnitus blocks the commencement of the Games from reaching your ears. Blood soaks into what feels like every pore of your being. Maybe it was more water than blood, but it all felt the same. Copper fills your nostrils, and you’re throwing up again.

You’re shot with a sedative when the hovercraft comes to retrieve you from the arena.

Finnick was frozen as the feed of the Games went out. You’d won. With your hands stained crimson and the sheer remorse and terror expelled from your system before the screen went blank, you’d won. He’d been lucky enough to be alone. His client of the evening had left an hour prior, and he’d been too hollow to try and attempt sleeping yet. The boy had figured you’d be one of the last surviving Tributes, but he hadn’t allowed himself to believe you’d become the lone victor. But now you were, and the Capital’s emblem stood static on the silver screen in idle motion. A sigh looses from the victor’s chest, and that familiar tug of something he can’t quite place squeezes his heart. He should go find Mags. If Peacekeepers hadn’t awoken her already with the news, they would soon. Shrugging his tunic back on, he left the small, too-luxurious hotel and went off.

Heated murmurs slowly drew your consciousness back into your body. Everything ached. There was a beeping to your left that made your head want to explode from the high-pitched tone, and you could feel something like a needle in your arm and a few other sticky monitors attached to your skin to monitor your vitals. Your eyes took some adjusting to the sterile white of the medical bay, making your irises burn. Blinking fiercely, you tried to sit up with a pained groan, but a firm hand on your shoulder pushed you back down. Your jaw set as your eyes finally started to focus and scan around the small room.

However, just as your senses snapped back, so did the chokehold of adrenaline, fear, and survival instinct. Kicking out hard, you connect with someone who emits an “oof”, and instantly you’re scrambling up and away from whoever was in the room with you. Everything was white and sterile, setting your skin crawling as panic and terror ripped through you. Heated whispers become distressed shouts and running feet from outside only add to your spiked instincts. Grappling for anything to remotely defend yourself with, you manage to latch onto a device meant to check your hearing and eyesight and grip the cool metal so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Hey! Hey! Stop, don’t touch them!”

A boy’s voice pierces above the chaos, and your eyes snap to the sliding door as a bronze-haired boy enters. Instinctively, you whip the metallic device at the intruder, eyes wide in fear, with your heart drumming in your chest so fierce you feel it might burst. The boy narrowly dodged your attack, the device cracking the pane of glass behind him. Your breaths come in ragged wheezes as your muscles howl in pain from the sudden movements and your injuries. The boy is swift, quickly maneuvering to grip your biceps so tightly you can’t pull away, and your eyes snap to meet oceans of sea-green.

“F-Finnick ?”

“Yea, it’s me, you’re out. You’re done, it’s okay. You survived.”

Survived.

{{ taglist}}

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore @nexxus13 @takanparadiae @yourdailymemedelivery

[milkoomi]

january ‘25 recap. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to start doing monthly recaps for this year! these posts will all be under my tag: #faustina’s diary !! think of these as diary entries! i’ll also be including other things that may be helpful to you guys as well!

gratitude —

1. i’m grateful for reading more

i’ve been wanting to get back into reading for a very long time now, and the time has finally come! i’m currently reading two books! one is “emily wilde’s encyclopedia of faeries” and the other is “a short history of medicine”. i’m surprised i started my reading journey with not one, but two books! both books have been so interesting to me. i got the medicine one because i’m studying to be in the medical field and i want to expand my knowledge on medicine! and the other is one i’ve been dying to read since last summer!

how you can start reading more …

set aside 15-20 minutes each day to read!

reread your favorite books!

start off with shorter novels!

2. i’m grateful for the spring semester

my semester started off a little rocky, but everything quickly got resolved! i was a little nervous, especially since this semester is my last semester before my externship and i can start working full-time in the medical field! we’re learning so many cool new things and skills in the program i’m in and i’m looking forward to all that we’ll be doing!

academic affirmations …

i am capable of achieving all my academic goals

academic success comes naturally to me

i am brilliant and my brilliance gifts me success

3. i’m grateful for closing chapters & new beginnings

throughout this entire month, i’ve been closer and closer to closing a specific chapter of my life and starting a new one! especially career wise! i have worked at my current job for two years now, and i originally did not plan to stay at this job for this long, but now i’m getting closer to leaving this job and moving into my dream career in the medical field!

journaling prompts to use for reflection …

how have you changed this month? are you proud of this change?

is there anything you regret from this month? what will you do differently next month to prevent having any regrets?

what is one goal you want to set for yourself next month?

goals —

1. pass my vital sign testing

in the program i’m in, we’ll be getting tested on our vital sign skills (blood pressure, pulse/respirations, height/weight, & temp) and this exam will determine if we get first pick for our externship or not and i’m determined to be in the top group for passing this exam! i really want to work in general surgery, ob/gyn, or psychiatry!

2. go on more dates with my fiancé

my fiancé and i spend a lot of time together since we basically live together, but we’re also both so extremely busy with our own separate lives. we both made it a goal for the entire year to have more dates! we’ve started off by having more at-home dinner dates but we also want to go to museums together, restaurant dates, and a whole bunch of other stuff!

3. expand my content

i’ve been having so much fun on this blog and creating the content i’ve been posting, but i want to expand my content creation! so one of my goals for the month of february is to kickstart my youtube channel and/or build more for this blog (i.e. create a set posting schedule, make newsletters for this blog [i’ve been inspired by my lovely mutual @glowettee & one of my favorite bloggers @malusokay 🤍), and make my blog’s community more interactive)!

write out 3 of your own goals!

bring out your journal and write down your goals for the month of february! they can be as big or small as you want them to be!

january favorites —

[ every month i’ll create a list of my favorite things from the month! it’ll be a compendium of youtubers, music, makeup, books, movies/shows, and even posts i’ve created that i’m proud of! ]

youtubers:

Emalilyn - “study with me” content, lots of videos incorporating the pomodoro method + relaxing lofi background music!

Mikayla Mags - lifestyle content, study/academic related videos, & vlogs!

Thewizardliz - motivational “podcasts” on aspects like self-improvement, confidence, leveling up; essentially the “it-girl” bible

clarisseintheclouds - content similar to Mikayla Mags but with a more introverted feel! very calming & relaxing energy!

books:

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries by heather fawcett

A Short History of Medicine by steve parker

Nana by ai yazawa

movies/shows:

Priscilla

Gilmore Girls

Grey’s Anatomy

makeup:

haus labs by lady gaga triclone skin tech medium coverage foundation

one size on til dawn setting spray

colourpop pressed powder blush - shade: classic pink

blog posts i’m proud of:

a new canvas means a new you - mini series

this was my first ever series on this blog that i created for the new year & the amount of love it received made me so unbelievably happy! i’m truly so grateful that this series helped so many of you and, honestly, creating it even helped me!

how to study effectively

if there’s anything to know about me, it’s that my studies are a huge priority for me. i started off my college years not knowing how to properly study, but as time went on i gradually learned how! and being able to teach you guys what i’ve learned in my academic career made me feel so accomplished!

faustina’s style guide - chapter one

i love fashion and i’ve always wanted to do more with it like creating content related to it! i don’t know if it’s because of my leo energy, but getting dressed up and looking my best is always a necessity for me even if i’m just going grocery shopping! my best friend and i are fashion fanatics (my bestie actually created a fashion blog as well! go check it out @cloudee-pup 🤍), and i wanted to bring my thoughts of style/aesthetics/clothes to a larger audience! i’m really looking forward to continuing this series!

final thoughts —

january has been a wonderful month so far and i seriously can’t express enough in words how thankful i am for that. 2025 has started off wonderfully for me and i can’t wait to experience all the new opportunities i have lined up for myself this year. this month has truly given me a first look at how the rest of my year will go, and i’m seeing a lot of new growth for myself and starting new chapters of my life!

write a letter to your future self! what are you looking forward to experiencing? what do you want them to know? any tips or pieces of advice?

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[jonsimsandcats]

IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN: JON SIMS AND CATS DAY 2023!

Why?  Because Jon loves cats and it’s cute!  And we could use some pure fluff and delight.

When?  April 29 - The date we got to hear Jon hanging out with the Admiral in MAG 93.

What? Fanart or fanfic featuring Jon and any cat(s)!  It could be the Admiral, it could be a scraggly alley cat behind the Institute Jon is slowly earning the trust of, it could be a mother cat and litter of kittens he and Martin found in the shed by the Scotland safehouse.

Please check out our FAQ post (app post link ||| desktop page link) for more details!

How?  Post to the #JonSimsandCats2023 tag on tumblr, and/or @ us so we can find your post.  This is a good method if you’re having trouble getting an ao3 link to show up in the tags.

We also have an ao3 Collection! Jon_Sims_and_Cats_2023.  Please check our FAQ for detailed instructions on how to submit fics to the collection.  We are accepting both old and new works!