@prairiefirequartz
The worst part was the screaming.
The countdown had been oddly quiet. Perhaps that was to be expected, but Courtney had anticipated some sort of noise - Tributes shouting to each other, trash talk, anything. But it had all been silent.
The opening buzzer had sounded, and still things were quiet. Maybe the soft thudding of feet on stone, the quiet huffs of determined breaths. But then someone, somewhere, had gotten their hands on a weapon - and used it on someone else. Not lethally, not quickly, but effectively. And the person who hadn't won that fight screamed. It was animalistic, curdling, and, importantly, short. Who it had been, Courtney had no way of knowing. But his senses had snapped to the present when it was cut short.
Was he bleeding? Sweating? Crying? Who knew - but he was without a raincoat and who he now recognized as Ripley was dashing away. As good of an idea going for the raincoat had been, he realized - as the screams intensified around him - that she had an even better idea: get away. He clawed at whatever was getting in his eyes in attempt to clear them before attempting to scramble to his feet.
He was halfway up when he got hit from the side. It was unexpected. Who could have still been behind him? Hadn't he and Ripley been at the edge? A scream ripped out of his throat, only to be cut short as an arm wrapped around his neck from behind and squeezed - hard.
No. No no no. No, not this early. Not here, not after he couldn't win a single fight. He was too determined, he had made too many promises. This couldn't be the moment, in the first few minutes of the Games. He slapped at the arm around his neck, finding it surprisingly thin and weak. That couldn't be right - was this person actually winning? No. Courtney put his hands on the ground and forced his knees under himself, and then, with a concerted effort, flipped.
The air rushed back into his lungs as he landed hard on his back, crushing whoever had been attacking him. He rolled sideways, wheezing. It was a moment before he could catch his bearings, but the flurry of movement to his side snapped him back into focus. He lashed out with a fist, and connected with something solid.
Now things were clearing up. He could see a male form in front of him, rolling slightly on the ground. No - no - this would not be his end. Courtney sprung forward like a bear and grabbed his opponent by the shoulders. With a primal scream, he lifted the boy and bashed him down. All around him he could see people bleeding, dying, crying. No cannons would be sounded during the Bloodbath - someone had told him that. There was no way to know if he was safe.
Again. Again. Again. Courtney picked this boy up and smashed him down until he could see the blood pooling under him. His hands slipped in it, and Courtney fell on top of the other. The boy underneath him did not move. Courtney found his way to kneeling and looked properly at what he had done. It was someone he had seen in training - the boy from Eight.
He wasn't moving. Court stayed there, on his knees, staring. He wasn't moving. Screams continued, screams got cut short, screams started anew. He wasn't moving. He wasn't moving. He wasn't moving.
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Please enjoy this short Poolverine comic from me~❤️💛
<The original plan was supposed to be 7-8 pages but sadly i dont have the timeTwT>
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Guys I'm dying-
THIS IS THE OFFICIAL DUOLINGO TWEETING THIS-
(THE ACTUAL TWEET FOR PROOF-)
(Here's some fanart of this tweet-)
Edit: it's aislinceivun on [tumblr], go check 'em out!
IT IS REAL.
DUOLINGO IS SHIPPING THEMSELF WITH ALASTOR-
I AM DYING HELP ME-
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HANA YAGI 'Sanguine Bride' Collection 2024
if you want to support this blog consider donating to:ko-fi.com/fashionrunways
This collection was created by reconstructing wedding dresses and white kimono that had been rented out at wedding halls and then discarded due to damage. In Japan, there is a story that one of the reasons why wedding dresses are white is to express a woman’s purity and innocence and her intention to be dyed by the family she marries into. The dresses were deconstructed, reconnected and dyed with the intention of challenging the patriarchal norms of the wedding ritual. Once dead, the wedding dresses are reincarnated, brought back to life by letting blood flow through them.
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