#magnetic moon tour

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[evangelinesbible]

THE ASTROLOGICAL FAME OF …

MICHAEL JACKSON

SAGITTARIUS MC

No matter your 10H sign, the 10H still rules Fame. And the most success you’ll find in career is when you embrace your 10H. Having a Sagittarius 10H makes you a person who wants a career that involves expansion and change. You’ll want to do something in this life that opens up not only your mind but others. That’s why most prefer jobs that involve teaching or philosophy. Sagittarius rules over travel as well so these people make their abundant income best when they get to travel the world. Even though Michael didn’t like to tour much he made millions off of touring alone. He was a world wide phenomenon and he used his music to spread messages to the whole world. For example, “Black and White” or “They don’t really care about us”. Michael was also known for his generosity and huge charitable donations. Donating over 500 million dollars to charities.

SATURN CONJ. MC

Michael has been famous since he was a child. Saturn rules longevity and even after death Michael is still extremely well liked and a famous name known worldwide. This placement also explains the amount of work his father put in him to be famous. This placement also explains all the very public challenges and hardships he faced.

MC RULER 8H JUPITER

Having his MC ruler in the 8H also gives him a long lasting career since the 8H also rules longevity. Michael was also very controversial whilst also being extremely liked at the same time. He was known in the public eye embrace and insist change. He was a pioneer, Being the first black man to have his video Billie Jean play on MTV, having an MTV award named after him,having a statue built in his honor, winning multiple Grammies, and being named the king of pop whilst also inspiring artists we know today like Beyoncé. He was also known for his wealth and investments. Having some of the most expensive music videos ever, a theme park in his backyard, and a very expensive wardrobe.

JUPITER CONJ. NEPTUNE

This is a great aspect for music fame. Neptune rules over glamor and melodies whilst Jupiter rules over abundance and popularity. Having them be aspected gives Michael a lot of luck and popularity in the Music Industry. He also made a fortune off of music as well.

LEO, PISCES AND SAGITTARIUS PLACEMENTS

I have two posts about underrated fame indicators and basically Neptune/ Jupiter influence is very important for fame. Michael not only has a Leo stellium but he also has Neptune (Pisces Rising and Moon) and Jupiter influence (Sagittarius MC, and Jupiter conj. Neptune) with this ultimate combo he was destined to not only be popular but an enigma as well.

SUN CONJ. PLUTO

Aspects to sun are import when looking at fame. Michael has his Sun conj. Pluto which makes so much sense when you look at how much power he had in the music industry. He was extremely magnetic, has sexual charm, and gained a lot of attention for not only being mysterious but very powerful as well.

LEO FAMA

Naturally having Fama in Leo can make someone gain fame at little easer than others. Since Leo can rule over entertainment naturally having Fama in the sign can make someone especially famous in any form of entertainment. Also Michael has it at 8 degrees. Typically if you have Fama in a Scorpio degree your fame might come with a lot of intense obsession and you’ll be extremely controversial. People might hate you because they believe you’re evil, taboo or think you’re a dark and messed up person.

GEMINI STARR

Michael was a Star known for speaking up about anything and everything that was on his mind. He wasn’t just a singer but also a writer. He was known to put his personal beliefs in not only his music but his music videos as well. Michael was also talked about and gossiped about ALOT. Whether truthful or not he was in multiple headlines in magazines and newspapers everywhere. It’s also apparent that his Starr is at 28°, which is the household name degree.

LEO APOLLO CONJ. SUN/ PLUTO

People with Apollo prominent have natural talents and gifts that give them a special type of attention/spotlight and praise Having Apollo in Leo can make someone extremely magnetic, popular, and even worshiped in the field of entertainment. Apollo conj. Sun makes someone extremely popular no matter what they do. Especially when it comes to whatever talent they might hone into. It always seems like the attention gravitates towards them because of how much they shine. Having it conjunct Pluto will make someone naturally shine in powerful and mysterious ways. It’ll also amp up the obsession people will have over you. Pluto also rules transformation and to say Michael had a few would be an understatement. Music wise and physically he transformed. He also transformed the industry. These placements help explain why he was deemed the King of Pop. And he still is.

That was the astrological fame of Michael Jackson 💋

- ⚜️💫⚜️

[h2ojustaddmako]

GUYSSS!

So a while ago I said I wanted to make a collection of H2O merchandise for the mature audience/merch that is not automatically clockable as H2O themed. After dropping a Bella & the Band design, it was very well received and I started working on a few more things... So, today's the day!

This first drop contains 10 designs, available on t-shirts, hoodies, as stickers, magnets, hats, tote bags, and what not, including customisable colours. Welcome to the H2hoe: Just Add Merch! Collection.

The Life I Was Promised / H2hoe Water Bottle

These first two are inspired by some of the posts and memes on my page. The minute I wrote that line with Cleo in the bath I found it hilarious, and it was indeed a very popular post. The water bottle design says "Stay hydrated, you h2hoe" with the H2hoe shoe logo on the bottle, for the keen eyed.

Mako Island Tours / Greetings from Mako Island

These two were meant to be like, holiday souvenirs from your trip to the Gold Coast. One from a "business" of boat tours around Mako, while the other is more in postcard style.

Rikki's Café / JuiceNet

These two were tricky to come up with, cause restaurants don't really have merchandise. I made a mock up receipt from each cafe (including some references in the listed items 👀). You're gonna confuse a lot of people bout why you're wearing a receipt on your shirts, but if they know, they know.

No Ordinary Girl Form / Full Moon Spell

These were also semi-inspired by the memes on this page. The first one is a job application form, with some memorable lyrics :)

And of course, no one can hold you accountable for full moon fever, girlboss.

Bella & the Band #1 and #2

These two were posted here before, so I'm just gonna quickly mention if you missed 'em. First one is a tour merch for whatever fictional tour apparently happened during the summer of 2011. The other design is more of a poster with all band members and song titles.

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT!

All designs, as well as some of my older ones (like the H2O and Mako Eras tour posters!) are available on my Redbubble collection page!

CLICK HERE TO CHECK EVERYTHING OUT

and plz plz plz repost, share, whatever this is called. I worked really hard on those and if they do well I'd do some more designs I have in mind (so many were planned ffs)

[grapejuicestyless]

You Are In Love

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summery: The one where Harry's going away on tour and promised y/n a souvenir.

(Not my GIF)

Waking up was my favorite part of my day, or it had grown to be. 

The moon had never shinned so bright in the foggy London winters, nor had it ever seeped so deep through my skin, tickling the buds I could feel the warmth spread. It had never stretched so far to reach my eyes, peeling the heavy blanket laying peacefully over them late Friday evening. No, it had never really gotten that far before. Never that intense, but here I was, feeling the total contentedness of it all, wrapping my body in a cocoon of blankets and pillows, feeling totally at peace I let the clock tick by rhythmically.   

My eyes rid themselves of their sleep, clear as day I saw everything in high definition, the walls paint shining off the cracked beams of light, the curtains swaying so elegantly against the wind, the dust laying a thin coat across the warm toned floors, a homely sense to it all.

But trailing around the room, my eyes met to my right, silky h/c roots draped messily over the wrinkled pillow cover. Her skin was porcelain in the snowy downfall, cool breeze sneaking up on her pores, little bumps and chills shivering down her spine quickly and so smoothly it nearly looked like she had only shifted positions. Her lips jutted outwards, little puffs of air escaping freely past her lips, brows furrowed together intently, focused on her one track pace in her beautiful mind. 

I couldn't help it when I reached up, thumb placed between her brows to smooth out the creases, watching with such deep focus as her features softened and her intense focus bubbled over into a dozy huff escaping in salty morning breath, I winced. Yet she laid perfectly still, cuddled up against her pillow, holding it tightly, attached to the cottony whiteness stuffed between her fingers.

My eyes traced her features from afar, face surely mush by now. My lips were upturned, cheeks round and rosy, eyes scrunched and gleaming, relaxed and shifting to inspect her. I looked at her adorningly, admiring every inch of her face, how her lips sucked into lick the dryness covering them. Absolutely infatuated with the simplest things she did with no memory of even knowing she'd done it. Hopelessly devoted to the girl, I watched sleepily, besotted over everything in that memory I held close, a snow day for us, I felt awestruck and love sick. Doting over her, I ignored how her hot breath tickled my neck, or how her knee had pressed up so tight against my thigh I broke a sweat between our heated bodies. I barely noticed how her baby hairs stuck to her forehead in curls or how her eyes leaked with the mornings tears for no reason, bottling up nothing but the wetness they held comfortably all day. Barely even saw how her lips parted again, drool stringing onto the pillow. Everything about her felt like I home, I looked to her for home.

One look, dark room Meant just for you

Maybe that's why I couldn't help but hold the sigh falling between my lips, or how the air came out too quick or harsh, blowing against the curl in her eyelashes. Maybe that's why her eyes dared open this late, and I'd forever blame myself for not turning away for even a moment, admiring her for a little longer, quieter, softer. Something so magnetic drew my gaze to her, making the bonds too heavy against my iris I couldn't force myself to look away while she laid in front of me so peacefully. But I would never forgive myself for ruining that moment I got with her without her even knowing, a stolen memory.

Time moved too fast You play it back

"H..?" She mumbled, eyes barely open, they fell closed against in a blink. One long blink, she licked her lips again, head lifting shakily against the weight of her feeble arms.

"Sorry lovie, didn't mean to wake you." My hand laid perched under my ear, head leaned into its side, a pocket formed between my palm and untamed curls.

I took my left hand again, raising it flatly against her forehead I laid her down gently into the mattress, her eyelashes fluttering shut with the spreading warmth from my fingertips, nails dug into her hairline carefully I praised her with a relieving scratch to her scalp. 

"Harry, hun, why are you up this late? You need your rest, big day tomorrow." She coaxed me into her arms with her words, body leaning over to her chest, I rested my head in her hands, looking into her eyes body hovering far enough to only feel a sliver of heat come off of her tangled body beneath me. Her hands tangling through the dark sea of chestnut browns and golds swirling like cinnamon, sweet and strong.

I sighed contently against the smell of her lingering perfume, vanilla pastries and fresh strawberries mixing with my borrowed body wash that we now shared, soapy bubbles of dove tracing her skin delicately with the clean smell against her sensitive skin.

"Couldn't sleep. Just, can't stop admiring how peaceful you are. So beautiful against the moon it's unreal." I flirted, though, every word came off more as a confession than a flirtatious move. 

She smiled though, she smiled tiredly, drooping eyes staring back at mine with so much admiration and appreciation, her hands removed themselves from the patterns of swirls and rubs against my scalp and stretched outwards, inviting me silently, an offer to become closer, body pressed to body I couldn't decline. 

"Silly boy waking up a silly girl. Now bot of us are awake, wide awake." She added lastly, yawning and stretching out around my body, we lay tangled in each others limbs. 

And the room fell silent, comfortable silence, I let my breathing stop, forced it to stop. Only to match my breaths to hers. Silly, I felt it, but it made me feel so much closer with just a simple action. And so we breathed, heart to head, breath to breath, her eyes looking down on me, I could feel it.

"Harry?" She whispered softly, shaking my body gently against her ribs.

"Hm?" I hummed contently.

"Lets go out." She spoke softly, almost unsure of her words.

"Okay." I agreed, barely moving.

So we stood at the door, bundling up for the snow, she hadn't brought a coat, insisting she didn't need one, I knew she did. I knew how the bitterness would eat her up, nip at her nose, turning a vibrant pink, hurt the lobes of her ears and the back of her throat, and I only wanted to keep her safe. Or that's what I told myself. No, I was truly selfish, thriving off of being, feeling close to her, her arms hanging short in the sleeves of my long coat. She struggled with the buttons, much like me, but I would never admit it; bulky and stiff against the thick fabric, I couldn't help but suppress a laugh at her efforts. 

"Need some help buttoning up that prom dress of yours, hm?" I teased at the length, down to her knees, just a bit longer than where it fell at my thighs.

Buttons on a coat Light-hearted joke

"Shove it." She pointed towards me, a warning of a million deaths, shooting ice at my heart, only to melt it with the smile that followed and for a second in that smile. The very same smile that held a million hearts, a million frowns, millions of possible lovers, but she was with me. The same smile that made her cheeks perk up a the slightest angle out, like mine, made the skin gathered with freckles crinkle into a thin line, made her cheeks fluster a redish-pink. The smile I loved. And for a moment in that smile I felt something more behind it. Something growing, a warmth, a fuzz, some connection that grew nothing more than an unspoken agreement between the two of us. 

No proof, not much But you saw enough

The car fell quiet, soft humming like a melody in my ears from the rocks beneath the sleek blackness of it all. The moon was out, shining still just a bright down on me, if not even brighter on her. My eyes drawn to her complexion, enraptured in how perfect she always looked through his eyes. How even the hip dips and the bloating couldn't look bad on her. No, it never did. Nothing ever did, she looked stunning, a perfect painting from Van Gogh, brush strokes so small, even close up you couldn't see them. So detailed, so hyper-realistic, so easy to study. 

But her voice, her voice was so sweet. Each syllable dripped like honey past her plush pink lips, so sickeningly sugared I licked my lips every time my name fell past them. 

"So, where are we off too? Just driving or..?" I spoke clearly, graininess and rasp leaking with the tiredness in my throat.

"I dunno'. Coffee could be nice." There it was, dripping from the wand, plunging and scooping out handfuls of smoothness into the air, I could taste its syrupy contents. The honey that came from her voice soothing my aching ears.

"Coffee?" I repeated back, lacking the melody she had in each line she spoke. I turned my head to face her, eyes repeating the short motion of looking to her.

"Could be nice. You know, since you woke me up I don't see a point in sleeping anymore, do you?" She testified, pleading her innocence to me. She looked at me so sweetly, so gently, so homely, my bones turned to jelly. 

"Sure. Sounds sweet." 

Small talk, he drives Coffee at midnight

"One large black coffee and uhm..." I looked over to the girl on the window, palm pressed to her cheek, she leaned further into the window, forehead pressed against the coolness of the glass. 

"Actually can I get two?" I corrected myself, lips tugging upwards, I melt again, a puddle at her feet, a rope tied tightly around her finger, yet she didn't know. She never would, never could. She had so much power over me, so much and I adored every moment of it. Every second she was with me was something I held close, and this moment didn't weigh any less than the rest, something fresh to doddle over while she was away from my touch, my love. 

The crackling of the speaker pulled me from my winding thoughts, my trance shaken off, not far forgotten yet, I held the wheel firmly to get closer to the sliding windows, plastered with tired smiles and friendly faces. 

Still, I looked over to her every so often, making sure she was okay, just for a bit, she rested very still, breathing controlled and steady, she laid on the brink of sleep and consciousness. The drowsiness had lumped her shoulders, relaxing her muscles; she wavered from side to side with each little bump and movement. She almost fell, fell deeply into a sleep to be woken up from, from a sudden stop at a stop light. 

The coffee scent burned her nose, I could see it. I could see how it scrunched and shifted under her furrowed brows, I smiled through the rear view, tapping my fingers on the wheel delicately. 

"You weren't planning on sleeping, were you?" She asks delicately, as if I'll break though I know I'm so far from it. So desperately, madly, suffocatingly content with everything in this moment, I knew how the sheepish smiles I gave her looked. Scared, restless, sad maybe. But maybe I was just tired, or maybe it was her because I knew I had only been looking at her with admiration all night. Looking at her like the last sight I'd ever see before going blind. Seeing nothing but her in my memory. 

"Hm?" I hum back, peering over my shoulder to see her body stretched across the middle consul, resting her chin in the curl of her fingers, slowly rubbing her chin, thinking.

"You never took your rings off. You never wear those to bed, I know it. I've seen you try to sleep with them on, stresses you out too much you told me." She motioned towards the bright crimson red radiating off the golds and silvers of my rings, the shine  of the expensive bands wrapped tightly around my fingers, sliding on and off my like butter.  She motioned towards the repeating tune, fingers tapping at the black fabric covering the wheel, thumbs rubbing up and down the leather leisurely. 

"Oh. No, I must have forgot." I scratched my brain mentally, wondering if I really did plan to sleep tonight. I wondered if she hadn't woke up, would I have been able to pull myself from my state of conscious dreaming, eyes glued to her.

She laughed, I know she laughed, I heard it clear as day and my heart flipped. I felt all funny, hearing the breathy chuckles directed at my mindlessness, carelessness. I raised a brow, smirking in confusion, though I didn't seek an answer for her entertainment with my answer. 

"I don't think I've ever seen you forget before, except once. Always tossing and turning. You get so restless with them on, its like its own reminder." She breathed out.

"Oh, really?" I countered, side eyeing her just a few times while our conversation carried.

"Positive." She looked to me, the road becoming nothing but a distant memory while I looked to her for a stolen second of her time.

The light reflects The chain on your neck He says, "Look up"

"You know," She started, "I still remember the first time I slept over, first time after we'd moved in." She sighed happily.

"You were so restless, I thought you were uncomfortable around me, being so close in a home to call ours for once. I got so nervous, I couldn't sleep that night knowing you had been sleeping like shit." She looked into my eyes, lulling me in under her spell. 

"Sorry love, didn't mean to startle you, I had no idea, really." She brushed my concern off, picking back up her smile to continue her perspective of that night, a memory she held close, a memory of us, I was so infatuated with the way she remembered it so clearly I almost missed how she called it our home. Ours, like we were more than just a couple of kids who dated for a couple months then moved in. More than just a pair of twenty year old's with dreams too big for the both of them.

"God, I remember it so vividly now. You, you looked like a mess. I remember thinking how pretty you looked still, how I envied how perfect you were even in a state of lousiness. You-you had woken up with such tired eyes and a droopy frown. You had scooped me up so tight I couldn't breathe, I remember it, I adored it. I found it so cute how clingy you were to me, my back pressed against yours. I was sweating but you wouldn't let me move. So I started to twist the rings on your fingers, back and forth and you shot up. You sat up so quickly and practically ripped the rings off of your fingers, eyes blown wide. You made this whole speech about how stupid you felt too not have know. I found it so funny. You were so frustrated the whole day and slept right through your alarms the next morning." She though back on the memory, grinning from ear to ear, hiding behind her hand shyly. 

"I remember that. I was so stressed when I woke up, almost forgot my shoes out the door." I joined her, reminiscing over the memory just as she had been. 

"Didn't have the heart to wake you. You looked so at peace I didn't want to ruin it. I could only watch the clock from afar, listening to your snoring." She admitted honestly, and I could tell. Everything about her was honest, I liked that about her. Loved it even.

I smiled at her consideration. 

"Well, thank you." I joked.

"You're welcome." She tilted her head, craning her neck back to meet her eyes with mine, eyelashes hanging low over her bright eyes. 

Stopping at a stop sign briefly, I took the moment to lean down, eyelashes tickling mine, she pulled me in close by her cool red fingers, taking my chin between her hands and pressing a delicate kiss to her warm lips, spreading a wildfire through my body, it traveled down my spine and back up. I had never felt more loved, or happy to have forgotten my rings. So caught up, I almost didn't pull away. 

But her lips tugging on mine, teeth caught between the glossy skin pulled me from my thoughts, and my eyes opened slowly. The first thing I saw were those sleepy eyes, those tired eyes I fell totally head over heels for. The eyes that could mend every promise or break them. And I felt nothing but pure bliss and comfort for it. For everything she'd done in that moment. For kissing me when I didn't ask for it, for no reason even. And I felt loved.

And your shoulders brush No proof, one touch But you felt enough

Driving home, coffee warmed the back of my hand, pressed delicately against the dorsal side, my fingers curled gently around hers, a strong hold squeezing them between the cracks, forced to intertwine them by only ourselves. I held her there, upright with my grip while she continued to doze off, eyes growing tired and sleepy again, we didn't speak a word but instead relished in the perfect silence spread between us. The melodic puffs of breath escaping past her lips in an even, slow pattern. She began to sink further into the black indents of the slippery leather seats, a shining string falling from the corner of her settled face. Her seatbelt tugged on her chest, holding her in place desperately, hair pushing up against her neck, her eyelashes batted open again. 

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

"Almost home, love." I assured her dozy conscious, knowing more would be too hard to translate into more than a jumble of words put together, so she only nodded, feeling the wave of exhaustion taking over her, only rambles being formed. 

Still, she wiped the corner of her mouth of the thin trail of drool, letting it shine while it dried slowly on her skin, settling it down by the crook of her thumb that rested now, against the apple of her cheek. Her palm pushed against her skin, letting it tug up with a push to the rise of her brow. Her hand found its way to her lap again, sleep covering the pinks of her hazy eyes she took her dry hand, snaking it above my hand gripping the gear shifter. I watched her unsteadily tether our hands together, holding my heart with an invisible sting with each brush against the whites of my knuckles.

Smiling to myself, I kept my eyes on the road the best I could, the wildness encaptured in the greens of mine reflecting off of her capturing e/c ones. My hand slipped away from the sun-swallowing gear shifter, the creases in the warmth of my palm holding the cool pinkness of her skin so delicately in my never loosening grasp. I smoothed over the creasing on her knuckles, thumb tracing the tiny hairs settled on top of her skin, my lips pressed against the backs of her fingers, curling so tightly around the bend of my fingers, the faint mark of the gesture stuck to her skin like a temporary tattoo applied to her skin. 

And she held it there, just like that, hand wavering with every bump, I felt her eyes land on the outline of my face, our voices silenced by nothing and everything at once. I watched her watch me from what felt like a distance, and I felt her hold me, enjoy this moment. Enjoy us. 

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

The blow away gravel from the wind had crumbled and rumbled under the rubber of the wheels as we pulled in, the car falling again, silent except for the muffled sounds of her staggering breaths in an attempt to warm her skin and the sipping of the stinging coffee. Hers was almost gone by now, mine untouched, hand remained in its place against my lips for the whole ride I didn't dare to remove her touch I had longed for while I had been admiring her all night through the beginning of the morning, the blackness of the early morning filling the space around us with a spotlight of moon dancing across her skin. I had never been more thankful to had been swallowed by the dull dark, the blush heating my face in a rush of heated pinks and reds. The moon painted her like Da Vinci, hair falling around her hunched over shoulders, legs bent up in a crossed position against the seat and my jacket, my jacket I wish I had now, the goosebumps rising on my skin from the heartless coolness of the London winter, I watched her body become engulfed in the largeness of the thick article, fingers peaking out of the sleeve, the other bunched up to hold her hand in mine.

"Home sweet home." She whispered to me, the look on her face endearing and genuine. It was like the dark circles pulling at her eyelids didn't bother her at all. All she cared about, all she focused on was studying the way my expression changed, she lowered her hand from my face and let it fall to see how my lips curled at each word she spoke. Each word dripping with honey as she spoke with silk and velvetiness it played like a new lyric with each sentence. I sighed deeply, looking back to the now dark garage, headlights dimmed to a dark death, the shine of the buttons of the car gone, the rumble or the engine silenced. The car came to a stop. I was home.

"Our home." I whispered back, looking over to her, our eyes met and all I could want to do was admire her just like earlier in the evening. From when she laid there, sleeping peacefully as little puffs of air fell past her lips with each appreciative sigh for her tired eyes, moon beaming down on her cheeks, highlighting her dimples and apples on her face. How her face scrunched, casting shadows along her soft skin. Now, the moon shined just as bright on her, if not even brighter. Her lips did not push out sighs, but instead curled into warm smiles and toothy grins. Her skin remained creaseless, shadows dancing carefully around her frame, moonlight admiring her silently, for our eyes to share. 

You are in love, true love

I watched her slip up the stairs silently, afraid to make any sound too loud in the silence of the house. Nobody was disturbed in her presence, figure slipping between the creaky stairs and sinking into the plush carpet scattering between the creases in her socks. And I watched her slump further into herself so peacefully, lulling herself into a daze between sleep and restlessness. The coffee stung her tongue now I could tell, observing how carefully timed each time she jutted her lips out in a soft pout, lines forming delicately on her youthful skin, they bounced off as her tongue would push past the barrier of her raw lips, bitten away by the crisp cool air.

Her eyes pulled down just a little bit further, sleep gathering in every pocket between her eyes and the deepening hood she covered the dimming light with, blacks turning purple and purple to a deep blue resting faintly into her sunken bags. I watched her hands tug at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to rub away the sleep gathering. And I watched her fingers slip under her curled lashes, sweeping them away for a moment to brush away the crusting pieces holding her down from the darkened hallway, a siren luring her into the messed about sheets.  

She sat in the bed, tucked away in a ball on top of the covers still wrapped tightly into my large jacket, pockets serving a home for her trembling hands. She was tired, kept up for far too long but fighting her drooping eyes and lazy smile was the caffeine she'd sipped slowly on just moments ago. 

Smiling I reached for her elbows, my large hands hooking around her much smaller elbows and lifting her hands free from the coat to free her body of the outside smell and cool breeze lingering in the material. A chuckle left her mouth, smile wide and dazed as her eyes searched mine. My fingers working against those stubborn buttons, I was determined to hold her eye contact to mine do matter how much longer this took. 

Finally the last button slipped through the hole almost too small for it and the coat slipped from her shoulders leaving her arms bare once again. The air stilled around her, cool air not to be found anymore, she felt confident in throwing the clothing on the floor for tomorrow, sure enough she wouldn't need it any longer tonight. She patted at the bed next to her, allowing me to crawl up next to her with my knuckles popping softly at the pressure. She grimaced and stuck out her tongue, silently begging me to please stop making that sound.

"Come on H, don't ruin it now. Just got us back into bed." She smiled, allowing herself to become engulfed in my arms as I pulled her frame into mine with everything I could. her cheek pressed against my shoulder and her feet curled under themselves, digging into the mattress as we stared off into the room, admiring the home we'd made. 

"What time do you leave tomorrow?" Her question hung in the silent air, breaking it in half. I felt slightly tensed at the question. A reminder of everything he tried to prolong. 

"What time do you want me to leave?" I tried. 

"Never. Oh, never!" She pushed against my body, folding us backwards until our backs hit the mattress and all that was left was out hands intertwined. We stared at the ceiling, lips curled into a gentle smile. barely there, but presenting itself enough to see it even in the half lit room. She huffed out a breath.

"Be serious with me, H. How long?" She tried again, wanting the truth, the answer she dreaded.

I pondered my answer for a moment, not wanting to ruin what was built around us in the moment. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I swallowed nothing but dryness.

"My flight leaves at 7. Should be out of the house at 5:30, hopefully." The words were direct. The answer she wanted, but wish she didn't. I saw her nod her head out of the corner of my eyes, her lips twitching into a frown but quickly holding a smile again, smaller but upturned still.

"But you'll be back, right? We'll make it through this?" She was turned to me now. My attention pulled from the roof to her eyes. they were watery, much more leaky than before but I wouldn't point it out, nor would I point out the shakiness of her voice and the fear from her tone. It would embarrass her more.

"Always." I promised. She smiled at that. Bigger than before and she trusted me. She believed it, allowing herself to rest her head closer to me that before, hair scattered across my chest messily as her eyes finally closed.

"Always." She repeated, holding it close as her breathing steadied.

How could she even question it? She was the only one I ever wanted to spend my nights watching from the same bed. Who else would request coffee at such late hours of the night, technically day by this point. No, no one else could even hold a small amount to how cute she looked in my clothes, or how she made my heart swell by just being in the same room. She was the only one I had been able to promise this to, anyways. I was always left unsure before tour. I can always tell someone something, but it would never last very long. I was never sure if I was truly meaning what I was saying. Everything ended and I was lifted out of my heart broken state in weeks. But her, I was sure we would work. If she ever even mentioned how cold the bed was without me to fill the space beside her curled up body I would fly the damn plane home myself to hold her myself. I would walk the ends of the earth to see her happy and I couldn't be more sure of the fact that I didn't want to lose her. I couldn't. 

Morning, his place Burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt He keeps his word And for once you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much But it said enough

The next day came too quickly. Way too quickly for what I wanted. Secretly I hoped that it would be endless and we could stay cocooned together for longer. Just holding each other and whispering little jokes and promises to each other. She fell asleep in my arms where she laid when our promises were made. Her head on my chest and her arms draped around my ribs while I held her close on her side against me. Her soft snores broke out every so often when it got too hot or too stuffy and she would stop to wiggle her nose subconsciously. Her hair tickled my nose and so five minutes later it was tucked beneath my chin enough to keep the wisps from tickling my skin anymore but not enough to inflict enough feeling that her eyebrows bunched together in a sour thought. 

It was hard to move form the warm position but it was already much later than I had wanted to leave by, or told myself I would. I knew I wouldn't have been able to leave her so quickly. So I was up only twenty minutes before I was set to leave instead of hours ahead of time, playing with her hair while she gently stirred, tired and foggy in memory of what was happening. I whispered sweet nothings into her ears and ghosted my fingers over her curves to wake her from her sleepy state. Her smile was dropping but still bright as she crawled out of bed, ready to make a quick breakfast. 

She kissed my forehead longingly before slipping out of the room with a small mumble of what she could make in such short time before I left. She said something about complaining about eggs, fighting with herself on how easy they should be but how they always turned out slightly runny or too cooked to the point where they were too crispy and burnt tasting. I watched her shuffle along to her own voice without her realizing yet again, head turning to face her more and more. I let her slip away into the darkness until we were separated. Her from the darkness of the stairs and me the brightness blinding my vision from the bathroom lights. 

You kiss on sidewalks You fight then you talk One night he wakes

Though I had a ride, she insisted she drove. The car ride there was silent. Not the kind of silent that hung between us last night in the car. That was a light, comfortable silence that was created by the loss of topics that hung from our mouths. No, this felt more eerie. Like a darkness was waiting to encage us into it any moment. It felt like something was weighing the laughter and comfort down by a ball and chain. I was so busy analyzing the awkwardness I almost missed the tears forming in her eyes and her hand wiping them away just as quick as they came. I almost didn't see the airport just out the window. It was like the hangover or discomfort silenced the sound of tires stopping into a parking spot. 

She was quick to get out of the car, grabbing my bag from the trunk, not daring to take another step without me. I followed her like I always do, always will. My hand rested heavily on her shoulder, letting her lead me to the correct gate and sit us down. My hand stuck to her palm like superglue. I held it there, knuckles brushed against my cupids bow, eyes brows relaxed and eyes fluttering shut from the early mornings and late last nights. 

God, I'm going to miss those late nights and early mornings.

"Harry, baby." Her voice still dripped with sweetness and candies. Honey still soothing the burn in my throat. It woke me from my thoughts with a gentle shake.

"You're boarding. Don't want to miss the flight." She smiled at me, her hand not dropping from my lips I curled my lips into a smiled and stood with her. 

My arms were quick to engulf her in a bear hug. I swallowed her whole in my jackets and hats, swaying from side to side in an embrace that turned into a kiss. I leaned into her first, lips messily clashing with hers while steady our movements from the swaying. I kissed her hard and passionate, a kiss that begged her to come with me, or tell me not to go. To kick and scream until I had to stay. But she never would. this was my job, we both knew I had to go. I signed up to be in a band, I signed up for this. For tour. I signed up, not her. She didn't sign up. I felt wrong. Why did I feel wrong? 

She pulled away first, holding my biceps with a firm grip and a sparkle in her eyes. Her lips were bitten raw, from this morning. She tried to make me eggs. Sunny side up, my favorites. They became scrambled but at least she tried. But she didn't see it that way. She wanted to send me off with a good breakfast and worried about it the entire time spent over the stove. But they were pulled into a smile now, eyebrows not furrowed in anger or sadness. She was staring at me in pure admiration, holding me. But I felt sour about it all. 

"What's wrong, H?" She was quiet, not wanting to alarm anyone else who could recognize us. "Don't you want to go? Remember how excited you were a couple months ago? Used to always talk about how you would get to go to the states and bring me back the biggest snow globe you could find. Remember?" She questioned, making herself smile at the memory of us sitting drunkenly on the couch at the beginning of the year. My arms outstretched telling her to make room and get rid of her couch so she could replace it with a giant snow globe. It was the first time he'd realized it fully. But he was in love with her.

"You better...you better call someone to get rid of this couch be-because when I get back I'm bringing you the biggest snow globe I can find and it's going r-right here baby!" I slurred, falling back into the arm rest.

"N-no! I like our couch! We can get rid of the dinning table!" She giggled, covering her mouth to muffle the loud sounds escaping her lips.

"How about I just buy us a snow globe and we can live in it!"

"Yes...oh my god H, are you sure you didn't go to college?" She leaned closer, smelling the alcohol radiating off of both of their shared breath. 

"Let me tell you something y/n, flatter works on me and it's working!" I leaned in closer to her, our noses touching as we shared drunken giggles, feet tangling and eyes fluttering from the hot air below. 

"I know! I know you so well!" She had slurred, eyes looking into mine so closely they almost merged into just one eye in my intoxicated state.

"I know! I know!" I yelled louder than I meant to, y/n quickly pushing her finger to my lip and shushing me in a drawn out "Shhh!" sound making us fall into a fleeing giggle that quieted down after only a moment.

I let a beat pass before the words on my mind finally slipped. 

"Can I tell you something?" I smiled. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay but its a secret so you can't...you can't tell anybody!" I drew out my y's to add emphasis. 

"Okay I promise! I promise just tell me, H!" She had giggled. My face fell serious.

"Y-you're my bestfriend." I managed, hiccupping at the end of my poorly put together sentence.

She smiled at that, letting the silence take us over as we shared a knowing smile and began to laugh again at the silence, finding everything and nothing funny.

Strange look on his face Pauses, then says "You're my best friend." And you knew what it was He is in love

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence) you You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home) you You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out) You are in love, true love

I smiled, tearing up in the corners of my eyes, laughing with ourselves quietly at the stupid memory.

"I'm just going to miss having my bestfriend around everyday. Love you so much, can't be without you." She admired my face for a moment, pausing to think of what to say, she bit her lip again, catching blood from the ripped skin between her canines. 

"I'll miss you too. Everyday for the rest of this stupid tour. And I'll call you every chance I get and make you answer. Keep calling until you do. Keep asking when you're gonna come home with that stupid snow globe." We shared a laugh again, my lips capturing hers softer this time, not as rushed or needy but in an acceptance.

"Better get on that flight then." I broke this kiss with a breath, smiling against her forehead.

"I guess if you have to." She joked, handing me my bags. "Call me when you land, need to know you're okay." She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, holding her palm to my cheek for a second longer, trying to find the words she wanted to say. There were so many running through her head in this short moment, so many with not nearly enough time. It was hard to filter through the ones she needed to say and wanted to.

And so it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe 'round and 'round And he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

"I love you."

"I love you more."

'Cause you can hear it in the silence You can feel it on the way home You can see it with the lights out You are in love, true love You're in love

I kept my words, but I still felt sour without her. She had only been with me for such short amounts of time. Barely three years but still so long I felt I knew her for longer. I suddenly forgot how to eat, sleep, breathe without her around to lean on or to hold. So I am stuck clinging to the pieces I'm left with until I can see her again. I'll fill my time with her voice on facetimes that rack up the phone bills and I'll search everyplace I go to find her the biggest snow globes there are. And I'll fill the silence with her voicemails before I go on stage and I'll circle the days I get to see her again with red pen on my calendar. These are things she'll never see, but when I come back I know she'll know.

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence) you You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home) you You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out) You are in love, true love You are in love

[ilguna]

☼ the moon loves the sun (Johanna Mason) ☼

summary; like two magnets, you and johanna will always find each other, inside of the arena and out.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, drowning, death and blood mention, the usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 7.2k

--

Out of the many tribute intake routines in the Capitol, you think the preparation for the Tribute Parade has to be your least favorite. There is absolutely nothing appealing about having strangers rip all of the hair on your body off. And then to be rubbed raw after by their fancy scrubs, stings like a bitch.

You don’t think the prep team fully understands the fact that you’re not used to their beautification process. You don’t have it done regularly enough for it to not hurt nearly as much. There are no places in District Five that specialize in what the Capitol does. Maybe in the Career districts, but certainly not in the outsiders. 

Besides, they don’t do it for the mentors, only the tributes. It doesn’t matter what the mentors look like after they win. You could ask for the prep team’s help, if you did like the way you looked after, but they already have so much on their plate from the stylists. 

This means the last time you had this done was about two and a half years ago, on your Victory Tour. You were hoping it would be the last time. And it would’ve, if it weren’t for this year's Hunger Games, which happens to be a Quarter Quell. 

Despite the fact that it’s been several months since the reading of the card, it still feels like it happened yesterday. You were sitting at home, hosting a few of the other victors for dinner to watch the Capitol showing of Katniss Everdeen’s wedding dress, which was being chosen through votes. 

No one had any idea of the announcement that would come after until Caesar mentioned it. Right around that time, everyone was beginning to wrap up. They were grabbing coats, pulling snow boots back on, preparing to go home because they had no interest in what the Capitol was planning this time for the Quell.

Once the anthem’s first notes began to play, the room around you came to a halt. President Snow came onto the stage, a boy following him. The boy was holding a wooden box, probably fully aware of the fact it contained an important card that would decide the fate of many people. What he didn’t know was it would steal the lives of those who didn’t deserve it.

Snow delivered a speech, reminding viewers of the Dark Days, and where the idea of the Quarter Quell was born from. He went on to tell you what the punishments for the past two anniversaries had been, before turning his attention to the boy with the box. He pulled out an envelope marked with a neat 75. He took his time breaking the seal on the flap, gently pulling the small square of paper out.

And then he turned to the microphone and read directly from the paper. 

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

You could hear a pin drop in your house. Even worse, you could hear the screams of your neighbors as the news hit them next.

It quickly became a different atmosphere in your home. At that moment, everyone wanted to leave to be with their families so they could console them. A couple of them even left their belongings because of the rush they were in. The last person to leave was kind enough to shut your door on the way out.

No one stayed to keep you company as you began to sink into your couch.

You don’t think anyone saw the twist coming. None of the citizens in the Capitol, and certainly no one in the districts. When you walked the streets the next morning, it was like a ghost town. Those who were outside, were pale, and almost avoided eye contact with you, as if it would be disrespectful.

While on the other hand, the Capitol has not been mourning the loss of their victors. In fact, all your prep team seems to babble on about is how excited they’ve been to see favorites return in the arena, remarking how the Tribute Center has been remodeled in several areas. 

You usually have a lot of patience for Capitol citizens, and you know that your prep team is nice—just painfully clueless—but there’s only so much you can take. The truth of the matter is that the Games aren’t about them this year. It’s about the Quarter Quell, and how far President Snow is willing to go to prove he’s in charge.

It’s about crushing the spirit of the victors.

“We’re almost done.” The girl tells you, her voice is higher than the boy’s by several octaves, and you can’t tell if it’s her natural voice or if she’s forcing it. Either way, the more she speaks, the worse your headache gets. You’ve been trying to nod and smile through most of their conversation, but you think they’re beginning to catch on to your strategy.

You hum a response to let her know you heard her. 

“Will you go over the checklist?” The boy asks, his accent is thick, harder to understand. You mentioned this to your girlfriend once—she’s a victor in another district—because you were curious as to why his was thicker than most of the citizen’s you’ve met. 

All she could tell you was that he was from a richer part of the Capitol. She sounded like she was being sarcastic when she said that, so you ended up having to ask District Five’s escort if it was true, and he was able to confirm it. Sometimes you can’t tell when Johanna, your girlfriend, is being honest, with how often she likes to mess with you.

“Of course.” The girl responds, reaching for a device she’s picked up and set aside a few times. She flickers her pink hair out of her face. “We’ve trimmed her hair, done a hair mask, washed and styled it. We fixed her nails. And we’ve waxed her body twice, and washed her three times.” She squints at the screen. “All that’s left is the lotion to rub down and I think we’ll be good to pass her off.”

“You think?” The boy asks. “You’ve been marking off the checklist, right?”

“Yes.” She raises her eyes from the device but doesn’t move her head. “She’ll be good to pass off after the lotion. You can apply it.” She promptly shuts off the device, sliding it onto the counter.

From what you’ve gathered from the few times they’ve willingly spoken to one another, you’re pretty sure they don’t get along. You wish you could say you recognize either of them from last year’s Hunger Games, but you think the prep team and the stylist got replaced. They’d been working on District Five for years, you’re not entirely surprised they’re gone, you just wish you were able to say goodbye.

“Fine.” The boy says, reaching for a bottle on a metal table. He squeezes a large amount of a white glitter liquid into his palm, and then approaches you. 

He takes his time wiping handfuls of it onto certain sections of your body, before going back and working from the neck down. By the time he’s done, the stinging sensation has subsided into a cool soothe. 

With that, the girl makes a wide motion with her hand, and the two of them file out of the room without another word, leaving you in there alone. The silence is nice, but it doesn’t last for long. The stylist must be eager to meet you, or get this over with, because she appears in the doorway and wastes no time getting to work.

“My name is Galina, I will be your stylist this year.” She says. “Stand up from the table.”

You follow her instructions, and wait patiently as she looks over you, inspecting every inch of your bare skin to ensure her prep team did a good job. When she’s done, she plucks the silk robe off the hook on the wall and hands it to you. You pull it on, and follow her into the next room.

“I will be taking care of you alone.” She informs you. “I work quicker than those two. I’m surprised they did as good of a job as they have.”

“They were very nice.” You murmur, feeling as if you need to defend them.

“Not to each other, that’s for sure.” She shakes her head, motioning for you to sit on a chair in front of a vanity. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She cracks her knuckles, which seems almost painful with how many gold rings varying in thickness cover her slender fingers. She doesn’t seem to mind them, reaching for your hair to get to work. She must be used to doing everything herself, because she doesn’t complain once about the circumstance.

It’s clear that Galina has a vision of what she wants to do with you, she doesn’t hesitate when she moves. There is no deliberation, she moves with confidence, conquering your hair, and immediately moving onto your nails next. She murmurs a compliment about how they’ve been perfectly shaped, and then she paints them an electric blue.

When it comes to makeup, she tells you to close your eyes and hold still. You’re not allowed to open them until she says, and by then, she’s almost done. All she does is apply a white mascara to your lashes, and then moves out of the way, giving you a chance to see yourself in the mirror. Her work is beautiful.

She accessories you in silver jewelry, tests to make sure your nails have dried completely, and then pulls a white and blue dress out of a closet. It’s over the shoulder, wrapped around your upper arms tightly to keep it from moving, and it ends just above the knee. 

“Everyone’s going after that fire effect because of Cinna.” She says. “I figured to let the sun do all the work.”

“Is it solar powered?” You ask.

“To an extent.” She runs her finger along a line of rubber that goes around your waist. “It’ll make you look like you’re glowing.” 

“Oh.” You raise your eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

She half-shrugs, “If you want to call it that. You can put on the heels and go. I’ll see you later this evening, after the parade.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a seat on a chair to pull on the white wedges.

When you’re done, you let yourself out, because she’s sitting in the lounge part of the room, eating grapes while typing on her device. As much as you liked District Five’s female stylist last year, she wasn’t nearly this organized with tributes. It took her several hours to get your girl tributes ready. There was one year she took so long that your tribute was the last to walk out on the floor. 

It makes sense why Snow replaced her, and the prep team went too because they were just as bad as the stylist when it came to being timely.

You carefully shut the door behind you, walking down the cement hallway, following the signs until you step into the main area for the Remake Center. There are a couple victors out here already with their horses and chariots. You know some of these people by name, mostly those who won in recent years, all the older victors don’t really mentor anymore—besides the ones that have to.

Your eyes land on a close friend of yours, Finnick Odair. He’s standing beside his horse, talking to the tamer, who hands something over to him. Finnick nods his head in thanks, and then turns away to look around the room.

“Ah, look who it is.” He says when he sees you. “I see your stylist has gone with something different this year.”

“New stylist, actually.” You smile, coming up next to him. “And prep team.”

“Did you like them?” 

You open your mouth, taking in a breath, but no real compliments come to mind. Finnick lets out a loud laugh, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. He throws his head back for a couple of seconds, and then looks back at you.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well,” You start, “I mean, the prep team likes to argue and Galina, the stylist, is very straightforward. I think it’s nice that they’re quicker than the last bunch, but I would not surround myself with them frequently.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.” Finnick smiles, and then offers his cupped hand to you. “Have a sugar cube.”

“Sure.” You say, picking one off the top. 

You pop it in your mouth, causing it to water, but it soaks up almost instantly. It isn’t long before the cube loses its shape and has become a pile on your tongue. The sweetness spreads across your mouth, hurting your teeth. It’s worth the pain.

Finnick nudges your shoulder, jerking his chin up to make you look. You turn around to see what he’s looking at. A smile spreads across your face quickly, as you begin to run away from him, and to your girlfriend instead.

“Johanna!” You gasp.

She finds you with a smirk on her face, arms held out for a hug. You slam into her, hugging her tightly, as she rotates you in a small circle. When you pull away, she reaches for the undersides of your jaw to avoid messing up the makeup on your cheeks. She guides your lips to hers, a warm happiness spreads across your body.

She pulls away for a second, and then presses a quick second kiss to your lips. She lets out a quiet laugh after, using her thumb to wipe away the dark lipstick she transferred to you by accident. 

“You look stunning.” Johanna says, “I heard District Five got a new stylist.”

“And prep team.” You nod. “They’re better than the last group Five had, but I wouldn’t say they’re perfect.” 

“I wouldn’t say any of them are. Maybe District Twelve.” 

“I like your stylist.” You smile. “She has a theme and she sticks with it.”

Her eyes narrow at you. “She’s been doing this tree gimmick for several decades and no one has stopped her. I almost said something to her this year.”

“Oh, don’t. She’s old. She doesn’t know any better.” 

“As if I care.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well, I think you’re beautiful in anything you wear.” You tell her, causing a small smile to peek at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you, babe.” 

“No need to thank me, I’m just speaking the truth.” You take her hand, starting to pull her back to where you were standing with Finnick.

“Hey, Johanna.” Finnick says.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Johanna asks, letting out a snort.

Finnick looks down at his parade costume, which is almost inappropriate. His stylist has draped a golden net across his body, and it nets at his groin. His outfit is so fragile that all it’ll take is one bump before it falls off his body. 

His face twists. “I would ask you the same, but I think we all know what you’re supposed to be.”

Johanna mocks a smile.

“So, what’s the plan?” You ask, changing the topic before they start bickering.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is this your way of asking for an alliance?”

“I just thought that there’d be a plan in the works.” You motion to the chariots. “You know, since this is clearly rigged.”

“I don’t think anyone’s made one yet.” Johanna murmurs, “I’m sure someone will come out with something.”

“What will we even do?” You ask.

Finnick shrugs. “We’ll have to see what the Capitol does first. If I had to take a bet, though, I would say Haymitch might try to clean up his tributes’ mess.”

“If he’s sober.” Johanna remarks, you elbow her.

“I just hope it works out.” You sigh. “It would be a shame to have gotten here for nothing.”

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!” Claudius Templesmith announces.

The countdown until the gong sounds, begins. You have less than a minute to figure out the arena and decide what to do next. And right now, it seems you’re off to a bad start.

The podium you have risen on is completely surrounded by water. Despite being from District Five, you are not the strongest swimmer. In fact, you only know the very basics to get you to land. You probably would know more if you went into a district job—they teach everyone how to swim if they work near the dam—but you didn’t. Instead, you got selected for the Hunger Games at seventeen.

There was never a reason to learn after that. 

You look into the blue waves, hoping to find sand. Maybe that way you’ll be able to wade to the beach that surrounds the water. Your wishful thinking is quickly gone when you realize there is no sand. It’s just water, and there’s no telling how deep it is. All you know for sure is it’s a drownable depth.

You take several breaths to calm the rising anxiety, lifting your eyes to focus on anything else around you. The golden Cornucopia is straight ahead, of course, just floating on a giant black rock island. There’s strips of black sand coming out from the island, connecting to the ring of beach.

Beyond the beach is the jungle. 

The sound of someone coughing nearby makes you jump out of your skin. You turn in the direction, and find another tribute, who's staring right at you. You think it’s the man from District Nine, but you can’t be sure. You’ve never seen him before the interviews last night. You don’t think he’s part of the rebel alliance. 

You eye him for a few seconds before settling on ignoring him. He probably knows how to swim just as much as you do. Probably even less. He is not the biggest threat in this arena, you can get away from him, especially since one of those strips of land is to your right. 

When the gong sounds, you’ll swim there… and then what? You go to the Cornucopia? You run into the jungle? If you go to the center, who’s going to be there? 

You have to close your eyes to focus on your thoughts. The only people that will be able to get to the Cornucopia first is going to be Finnick and Mags. Actually, it’ll be Finnick. Mags is in no shape to cut across this water like she was probably able to in the past. As cruel as that sounds, it’s just what happens when you age. 

Finnick will get to the middle first. He’s an ally. You can trust him to have your back while you grab a weapon. But how fast is Johanna going to be able to get there? She knows how to swim, you think. She won’t be the best at it, so it’ll take her time to get there. At that point, the Careers might already be there. You trust they were taught how to swim in their home districts.

As you weigh it, you realize it’s going to be dangerous for you to meet Finnick in the middle, much less Johanna. You begin to think it might be easier to find them in the jungle, when you remember how thick it’s going to be. And as nice as it would be, there is no way you can stand on the beach and wait for them to come to you.

You’re going to have to go to the Cornucopia and hope Johanna gets there in time.

The gong sounds seconds after your decision is made. You jerk forward to dive into the water, but hesitate at the last second, almost sending you over the podium. Your arms flail, trying to restore balance, but it’s too late, you’ve leaned forward too far. You manage to get a breath before you hit the water.

It’s warm, engulfing your body from head to toe. You kick hard, bringing you back to the surface, causing a wave to wash over your face. You sputter out a cough because of the salt water, and then you begin to paddle to the strip of land, taking your time getting there. 

Once your hands come into contact with sand, you pull yourself out of the water, and head directly to the Cornucopia. As you go, you take time to assess the people in the water, wondering if any of them could be Johanna. From what you can tell, most people are bobbing around, struggling to make it to the rock. And no one has the qualities of your girlfriend.

You’re almost to the center when Finnick rounds the corner with a trident in his hand, raised to attack, but then he relaxes. “Oh good, it’s you. Do you see Mags?”

“No. How about Johanna?”

“Not yet. She might be swimming this way, a lot of people are.” He motions for you to follow, and you do. 

You’re almost unable to hide your surprise when you see Katniss is here. How is she able to swim? There can’t be many opportunities in District Twelve, or at all. You give a look to Finnick, wondering if he’ll have an explanation, but he’s too focused on finding anything valuable on the island.

Katniss tenses up at the first sight of you, and then relaxes considerably. She trusts you, of course she does. She pulled that stunt in the Training Center, and while many people jumped to tell Haymitch they wanted an alliance, you let her have her space. Yes, she would be a very good ally with her skill, but you knew she would come around.

She did. Haymitch reached out to you to tell you Katniss wanted you to be her ally. By then, he’d already recruited you for the rebel alliance, so there was no action needed. It was more of a heads-up that you were going to be a trusted friend in the arena to her. As for Finnick and Johanna, it was a completely different story. They couldn’t help taunting her, naturally that drove her away.

“Let’s clear out.” Katniss says, moving down one of the rocks without waiting. 

You don’t follow immediately, digging around in the mouth of the Cornucopia until you find a long knife you’ll be able to use. As soon as you have it in your hand, you jog to follow Katniss and Finnick, who are heading after Peeta. He’s still standing on his podium, waiting patiently to be helped.

He can’t swim. 

Once you’ve joined them, Katniss begins to remove knives from her belt, likely thinking to go and retrieve him. Finnick grabs her shoulder. “I’ll get him.”

Katniss’s face twists. “I can.”

Finnick doesn’t listen to her, shedding his weapons onto the sand. “Better not exert yourself. Not in your condition.” He says, motioning to her belly, reminding her that she’s supposed to be pregnant.

A wave of realization crosses her face, mouth opening to say something. Before she can, Finnick prepares to dive. “Cover me.” He tells you, or her, and then launches off the rock strip.

You look over your shoulder at the Cornucopia, finding that the Careers have made it, and they’re gathering their supplies. You know Gloss, Cashmere and Enobaria fairly well. They weren’t your crowd, especially since you’re dating Johanna—she’s a pot stirrer—but the few conversations you had with them were polite. As for Brutus, you hadn’t seen him before the reaping. He’s an older victor, if you had to guess, he won around the same time as Haymitch. 

Water splashes. You whip in the other direction, worried it’s a stray opponent, and instead see Mags, paddling her way to you guys. She moves a little bit faster than you do, but not faster than Finnick. He’s able to get Peeta and swim him back to the rock before Mags has made it halfway.

“Hello again.” Peeta murmurs to Katniss, they kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended.”

“Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think.” Katniss nods to her, and she’s almost made it the whole way.

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind.” Finnick laughs. “She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

“I’ve got no problem with Mags. Especially now that I see the arena. Her fishhooks are probably our best chance of getting a meal.” Katniss tells him.

“Katniss wanted her on the first day.” Peeta pitches in.

“Katniss has remarkably good judgement.” Finnick says.

He reaches down into the water once Mags has made it into his arms length. He’s able to scoop her out, her weight playing no factor in his strength. He places her on her feet, and then smooths some of her grey hair out of her eyes.

You do a full turn where you stand, looking for Johanna, hoping you’ll see her.

Between Mags’s accent and the mumbling, you have a hard time trying to figure out what she’s saying. Something about the belts and bobbing, you think. 

“Look, she’s right. Someone figured it out.” Finnick points, you follow his finger and find Beetee, flailing around in the waves, but he’s not drowning.

“What?” Katniss asks.

“The belts. They’re flotation devices.” Finnick says. “I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they’ll keep you from drowning.”

“We should go.” Katniss says.

“Does anyone see Johanna?” You ask, eyes still searching the water. 

“I don’t think she’s on this side of the Cornucopia, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you. “I’m sorry. We should be able to find her later on.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, turning to look at him. “If you’re sure, I’ll go. But if you think we won’t see each other again—”

“I’m sure.” Finnick tells you, his green eyes boring into yours. “It’s Johanna. She loves you. She’s going to find you. And we might even come across her by the end of tonight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Let’s go, then.”

Mags crawls onto Finnick’s back, holding onto his shoulders tightly. He begins to lead the way down the spoke, with Katniss and Peeta taking the middle, and you slowly following in the back. A part of you waits for her to call your name to bring you back, but you know it’s not going to happen. She’s not here yet. And you can’t wait for her to be.

You’ll see her again soon.

—

As you near where Finnick is sitting on the jungle’s treeline, your body begins to shut down, knowing you’re safe. All it takes is your knee buckling to send you falling to the sand, barely catching yourself before you faceplant.

Since you’re still struggling to breathe, you close your eyes and take deep breaths to get a hold of it. It’s easy to forget just how exhausting the arena is when you’re watching it from the outside. You didn’t win that long ago, and yet your initiation preparation is already leaving. 

It felt like you were being electrocuted when you were woken up by Katniss’s screaming, warning you about the fog. To navigate the jungle’s greenery in the dark is a whole talent that you might’ve discovered. You tripped too many times to count, with how many roots and weeds stick out of the dirt, desperate to take you down. It didn’t help that you were being actively corralled by the Gamemakers via the poisonous fog.

You will say you got lucky, you didn’t get it nearly as bad as the others did. Their blisters cover almost their entire body, even after washing most of it off in the salt water. You mostly got it in patches on your arms and legs, because you were running for your life, willing to leave them behind to save yourself.

And then to immediately be attacked by mutts less than an hour later… Peeta had gone into the jungle to begin to drill into a tree to get water, and when you went to join him, there were these monkey mutts on the tree branches. They completely surrounded you, but their attention was on Peeta, who was oblivious.

Well, until he could sense the danger, then it was all over from there. There were monkeys flying at you from every direction, angry and ready to attack. Between only four of you, it was impossible to keep up. And they didn’t slow down. It wasn’t until Peeta was vulnerable, did things get serious.

A monkey went flying at him, Katniss went to rescue him, but right before he was tackled, an ally—the woman from District Six—came running out a tree she’d camouflaged herself into. She got right between the monkey and Peeta, killing herself but saving him in the process. 

As soon as the mutts had gotten their kill, they backed out. Peeta and Katniss are sending the woman off in the water now. She’s not going to make it. The fangs punctured vital parts of her chest, leaving deep holes. You had to walk away.

“It’s a good thing you’re with us.” Finnick says. “I don’t think we would’ve found a good path getting away from the fog.”

“You’re just being nice. I should’ve helped more.” You tell him.

“You did help. You found us a path.” Finnick says. “Besides, we definitely would’ve had trouble with those mutts.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen tributes get attacked back-to-back like that by the Gamemakers.” You murmur, using your finger to draw in the sand.

“I haven’t, either. There’s something going on.”

“I hope Johanna’s okay.” You look up at the jungle. She could be anywhere in there.

“It’s Johanna.” Finnick says, trying to comfort you. “She’s smart. She survived the bloodbath, and so did Blight. They’re probably together.”

You hum. Katniss drags her feet through the sand, coming in your direction. She’s got this solemn expression on her face, probably having something to do with the dead victor they had to say goodbye to. She stands over you two for a second before she speaks.

“Why don’t you two get some rest?” She asks. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Katniss, I’d rather.” Finnick says.

All it takes is one look at his face, and she nods. “All right, Finnick, thanks.” 

She moves away, going to join Peeta, who’s already laid down on the beach. You watch them for a couple of seconds, before you look back at Finnick. There’s tears in his eyes, he swallows thickly. He must be thinking about Mags. You lost her during the fog.

“Do you want me to move?” You ask.

“No, it’s okay.” He tells you, wiping his eyes. “I want a minute.”

“Take as many as you need.” You tell him, looking away to give him some privacy.

The two of you sit on the beach, watching the sunrise, wordless. Katniss and Peeta toss and turn several times, trying to get comfortable on the uneven ground. For a while, Finnick sits still, and then he gets restless and gets up to gather some giant leaves from the jungle. He works beside you, creating mats that he hangs on the tree branches to give Katniss and Peeta shade while they sleep.

He moves on to making three tightly woven bowls. You take two of them from him to fill with water, which he thanks you for. He takes the third bowl and goes poking around in the saltwater. By the time the two of you come back together, he’s got a full bowl of shellfish. He shows you how to crack the shells open, and you try a couple of them.

“How do you like it?” He asks.

“I don’t.” You tell him honestly. “But it’s food, and I’ll eat anything right now.”

“Do you like fish better?” He asks, eyebrows raising.

You shrug, playing with a shell. “Not a lot of fish to go around District Five.”

“Really? You’re on the coast.”

“Not me, I live closer to the Capitol than I do to the water.” You tell him.

His face twists, tilting his head back while he stares at the sky, trying to picture it in his mind. “Where’s your Justice Building, then?”

“In the middle.”

His face twists.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, causing you to turn quickly to see what it is, but it’s only Katniss. She’s rubbing sand out of her eye, a quiet yawn leaves her lips before she blinks to focus. 

Finnick holds up one of the shellfish. “They’re better fresh.” He tells her, cracking it open and ripping a chunk of the flesh out.

She reaches forward to grab one, but stops at the sight of her hands. She scowls, beginning to get to her feet.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.” Finnick tells her sarcastically.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She says back to him. She washes her hands off in the saltwater, and dries her hands by shaking her hands. She stops suddenly after she’s taken a few steps in your direction, throwing her head back. “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.”

The parachute appears seconds later, as if Haymitch was just waiting for her to ask. She takes something in the palm of her hand, muttering, “About time.” And then she comes toward you two, taking a seat in the sand.

She unscrews the cap and begins to squeeze the ointment onto her palm. It’s thick, and dark, and it smells disgusting. She hesitates for a second, but as soon as she begins to massage it into her leg, she lets out a moan. Once she starts on her other leg, she hands it off to Finnick.

“It’s like you’re decomposing.” Finnick tells her, because it’s staining her skin a grey-green color. But he follows her example, and rubs it onto his scabs. 

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?” Katniss teases.

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?” He asks, passing the tube to you.

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.” She remarks.

You spread some of the ointment across the itchy patches, and as soon as it comes into contact with your skin, it disappears completely.

“Not if I keep looking at you.” Finnicks says back to her.

You begin to feel better once you’re covered. Katniss and Finnick are able to move more freely, too. When they’re done rubbing it on the exposed skin of each other’s backs, Katniss gets to her feet. “I’m going to wake Peeta.”

“No, wait.” Finnick gets up to join her. “Let’s do it together. Put our faces right in front of his. Come on, (Y/n).”

“His heart has stopped once already, I don’t want to share the responsibility for killing him again.” You tell them.

Finnick laughs. “I’ll just perform CPR again.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, watching them get in front of Peeta’s face. Katniss gently wakes him, shaking him, softly saying his name. His eyes flutter open, as if he’s a storybook princess, but then a scream leaves his mouth and he jumps three feet in the air.

Katniss and Finnick fall back away from him, laughing their asses off, rolling around in the sand. You join in on their laughter, but Peeta’s trying not to encourage their behavior by crossing his arms. All it does is set them off into giggle fits, where he struggles to fight off a smile.

“Guys.” You point at a parachute that’s coming down in your direction. 

Finnick pulls his attention away to see what you’re pointing at. He catches the loaf in his hands, examining it carefully. It’s one of the Capitol’s specialty loaves that they make in association with a district. This one is tinted green, marking it as District Four’s.

“This will go well with the shellfish.” He announces.

While Katniss helps Peeta with getting a layer of the ointment on his skin, you help Finnick clean the meat from the shellfish. He’s quicker than you are, but he appreciates the help. When it’s time, you gather together and eat the meat with the salty bread, taking healthy gulps of water in between.

It isn’t until you’re almost done, a few pieces left, does a scream erupt out from the far side of the jungle, causing each one of you to freeze and observe. A wedge on the other side is shaking, like an earthquake. Then, a huge wave breaks through the trees, soaring higher than the tallest one, coming down the hill fast. It hits the center water, causing a large ripple to spread out.

The four of you jump to your feet, watching as the tide reaches your knees, raising your belongings out of the sand. It takes a couple of seconds for you to grab what belongs to you, besides the jumpsuits, which have been eaten away by the fog so badly that they’re nothing but rags. You let it go.

A cannon fires. A hovercraft appears over the area, a claw being sent down to retrieve the body. It grabs them, pulls them out, and then disappears inside of the ship, which blends in with thin air seconds later.

As you begin to settle back down onto wet sand, Katniss halts. “There.” She whispers, nodding ahead.

You follow her gaze, seeing three people stumble onto the beach. The others retreat into the jungle treeline, trying to hide in the shadow, but you observe, squinting. They’re in rough shape, one of them is getting dragged out by a second, and the third one is wandering around in circles. They’re all covered in a dark red.

“Who is that?” Peeta asks. “Or what? Muttations?”

Katniss grabs an arrow, drawing it back on her bow. You hold a hand out to stop her, watching as the first person collapses on the beach, causing the second one to stomp their feet, turning to push the third one over.

“Johanna.” You say, moving forward. “Johanna!”

Johanna whips around to follow your voice. “(Y/n)!”

“Johanna!” You shout, sprinting across the sand. She throws her arms out to catch you as you collide into her body. Her hand hands the back of your head, squeezing you into her chest tightly. After a few breaths, all you smell is blood, so you pull back to look at her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Finnick has appeared at your side.

“No, I’m not hurt, babe. This idiot is, though.” She motions at the one laying in the sand, and now that you’re closer, you can see that it’s Beetee. The one walking in circles is Wiress, and she’s muttering something to herself.

“What happened?” You ask, rubbing the red on her skin.

She motions to the jungle. “We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

“Oh, Johanna.” You murmur.

“I’m sorry, Johanna.” Finnick says, Katniss and Peeta are just joining you.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She says, she looks at you for a long moment. And then down at Beetee in the sand. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges him with the toe of her shoe. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

All attention is on Wiress for a moment, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.” Johanna says, which seems to draw Wiress to her. As soon as Wiress begins to touch her, she loses her patience, shoving her down to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”

You shake your head, putting a hand on her chest.

“Lay off her.” Katniss snaps, making it worse.

Johanna’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Lay off her?” She hisses. Before anyone can stop her, she slaps Katniss across the face. “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

“Woah!” You push Johanna back, and when she doesn’t budge, Finnick comes to your aid.

He throws her over his shoulder, but this doesn’t stop her from screaming insults at Katniss for her disrespect. You stand with Finnick in the water, watching as he dunks Johanna beneath the surface, turning the water pink. After about the twentieth time, she begins to calm down and come to reason.

“You’re going to apologize to her, Johanna.” You say. “That was uncalled for.”

“I’m dealing with a lot.” Her voice is harsh, but you’re not taking it personally. “It took me hours to get them down to the beach. Wiress kept running off, and Beetee’s as useless as that stupid spool of wire that I had to carry down for him.”

You take handfuls of water to dump in her hair, scratching it gently to get the dried bits off. She begins to relax, eyes closed, head tilted back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you at the Cornucopia.”

“It was better you didn’t.” She tells you. “When Beetee was finally done splashing around, he ran right into the Careers. If Blight weren’t there, he probably would’ve died because of it. He’s lucky all he got was a knife.”

“Did you get hurt at all?”

“No, none of them were able to touch me. We made it out to the jungle just fine. Wiress was still stable so she was guiding us to water for a while.”

“There’s no water in the jungle.” Finnick tells her.

“I figured that out after a while, but it shut them up so I went with it.” She admits. “Do you have any?”

“We can get water.” You tell her, wiping her eyes free of the salt. “And Finnick can get more shellfish, right?”

Finnick nods, “I can start, give you guys some privacy.”

“That would be nice, Finnick. Thank you.” You nod.

He wades away, you turn your attention to Johanna, who’s opened her eyes. You get to her level in the water, a smile on your face. She shakes her head, “Are you okay?”

“Besides some scabs and cuts, I’m fine. I’ve been worse.”

“Good.” She murmurs. “I was worried about you, but I saw that you were with Finnick and Mags, so I knew you’d be okay.”

“He’s got my back.” You agree. “I almost didn’t go with them. I had to tell him if he thought we wouldn’t see each other again, that I’d go back to the Cornucopia.”

“I’ll always find you, babe.” She tells you. “I will always get back to you.”

[mrhyde-mrseek]

Updated altar tour!!!

Hades & Persephone

They share an altar! Not much has changed since i last posted a picture of it except that i added a bracelet, but to recap, they’ve got:

A raven and skull Halloween decoration

A bracelet i made with Hades in mind and hung around the raven’s neck

Red Crowley-ish sunglasses

A candle holder from the thrift store

A stone snake figurine thing

A geode(?)/sparkly rock

A bat plushie (named Marcel the Mycelium Bat by my friend)

A bracelet i made for Persephone and put on the bat

Persephone’s offering bowl, a flowerpot with a crow(?) feather and a (now dead) flower

Vials of fake herbs (another Halloween decoration)

A poison apple spellbook Halloween decoration

A Hadestown magnet

A little red candle

Hades’ offering bowl, a thrifted metal bowl apparently made in 1978 (that’s the date carved on it at least) with crystals, coins, rocks, a key, a silver Beetlejuice bracelet, a button shaped like a cat eye, and a letter in it

Dionysus

Not much has changed since i last showed y’all Dionysus’s altar, but they’ve got:

A satyr statue i made in an art class

A painting with colors i associate with them

A nonbinary flag-colored heart charm

Two pinecones

A big bead with eerily similar colors to the lesbian flag

A bracelet

A gold paper heart a member of my high school a cappella group made me

Two amethyst crystals

My pronoun pin

A purple candle

Athena

Athena’s hasn’t changed much either, but it’s got:

My kindle

My vintage-looking desk light

Its offering bowl, a flower pot shaped like a statue head, with a crow feather, a little turkey feather, a massive turkey tail feather, and a Good Omens pen

A fall-scented candle

A Kamala Harris magnet from The Female Power Project

Two little plastic trophies

A few blue stones

A puzzle

An offering of iced tea & lemonade that Athena didn’t really like but didn’t want me to take it off its altar and still doesn’t (i tried it and it’s really sweet but like in a bad way so i can see why it doesn’t like it lol)

Hermes

Hermes’s altar has some new additions! I mainly got then because i wanna bring something from each altar with me to college that i won’t lose, and since candles aren’t allowed i got him something else, so now he has:

His candle (which I’m still obsessed with)

A wax doll my dad got me from a Voodoo practitioner’s shop on a business trip to New Orleans

A feather

A Newsies keychain

A marble

A tiny rubber duck figurine

Dice

What i think is Dalmatian Jasper but I could be wrong??

A couple more shiny rocks

A bracelet

A couple coins

A brand new statue (which is what I’m bringing to college)!!! It came with what I’m guessing is a little baby Hermes but I don’t really know, and a caduceus that I just realized he can hold

Artemis

Artemis’s hasn’t changed much either, except for a few added trinkets, so right now she has:

A candle

An animal skull-shaped fish tank decoration i got from my friend’s yard sale (coincidentally the same friend who named Marcel the Mycelium Bat)

A silver ring from prom

A few rocks

A little crystal, i think it’s amethyst??

A Totoro figurine

A crescent moon selenite offering bowl

An acorn

A mug inspired by her I made junior year of high school with a crow feather in it

A gold crescent moon charm

Apollo

I haven’t shown Apollo’s altar yet because he’s relatively new to the group of deities i work with/worship! He’s got:

A tall ass candle

A wolf plushie

A rainbow… thing, it’s too big to be a bracelet but too small to be a necklace so it’s his now

A gold plastic coin thing

A fake lavender-looking flower

A glass bauble charm filled with yellow glitter

My tarot cards

An award i got senior year from the music program (I scribbled out my name on the photo)

An HRC water bottle that’s kinda hidden behind the award

A couple rocks

A yellow plastic gummy bear

A squishy yellow unicorn fidget toy

A plastic toy milkshake (he thought it was funny)

Aphrodite

Aphrodite has a couple additions to her altar, too! We’ve got:

A drawing I made for her

A pretty little teal rock

Two shells

A tiny pink candle

A piece of a plastic crown from my high school’s production of Mean Girls last year, I have no idea how i ended up with it but here we are

A thing of blush (rarely used, i thought she might appreciate it more)

Coconut and pear-scented chapstick

A shell kinda shaped like a bowl with a pearly charm, two pink paper stars, and a tiny rose charm in it

Her offering bowl, a teacup, saucer, and spoon shaped like a flower, leaf, and ladybug respectively that was a graduation present from a friend!! While they’re not quite Aphrodite’s style, she still likes them on her altar because they were a symbol of platonic love!!

A bracelet in her offering bowl

[kylieswift31]

Benjamin Button

“Sometimes growing up precious means not growing up at all” -but daddy I love him

Benjamin Button’s journey through life is unlike anyone else’s and Taylor’s journey to reclaim her music has occurred in much the same way. But perhaps Taylor’s not the only one on that journey?

Benjamin Button meets Daisy Fuller at a point in his life where they are the same age on the inside but he looks much older on the outside. They share a magnetic connection that is hindered by their differences, but over time fate brings them back together over and over again. And just like the moon eclipses the sun, Benjamin and Daisy share a small portion of their life together as a couple at the peak of their adulthood. As they both approach the end of their lives Daisy comforts and cares for Benjamin until he finally passes away. The passage of time is an overarching theme in Benjamin's story because every time he began to gain footing in any particular chapter of his life, those around him entered into the same chapter of their lives that Benjamin had just left behind. In turn his connection to those his own age is fleeting in contrast to his ongoing bond with Daisy.

The concept of time is something we've seen repeated throughout Taylor's discography and music videos too. There have been so many theories on how to interpret the clocks Taylor has used throughout the years, but what if we were supposed to compare it to the lifecycle of the butterfly? After all, butterflies were included on the cover for Taylor's debut album. If so, her discography can be broken down into two halves with debut - reputation representing the life cycle of the caterpillar and lover - TTPD representing the lifecycle of the butterfly as it emerges from the cocoon and enters into adulthood. Many see the lover era as the failed coming out period of her life, but I can't help but wonder if it was intended to be a soft launch for those who could pick up on her queer flagging. Even if this wasn't her original plan, taking her time has made this current phase of her career all the more impactful. And just like the caterpillar goes through a process of metamorphosis to become a butterfly, Taylor had to learn how to walk before she could learn how to fly.

There are a few quotes from the director of the Miss Americana documentary in Taylor's variety interview from 2020 discussing the political themes as "a portrait of the birth of an activist". It makes sense that testing the waters by coming out in a political sense was a necessary step towards coming out as queer after Taylor had spent her career staying silent on political issues. When looking back at old interviews it became evident that keeping her opinions to herself prompted the interviewer to fill in the blank space of their unanswered questions by sharing who they wanted Taylor to be instead. Many ended up reaffirming the expectation for her to set a good example for young girls with her Christian values, to not follow in the footsteps of 'going off the rails' like Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan and the hopes they had for her to settle down by becoming a stay at home mother and wife in the future. Interviews like this were common in the red era when Taylor was beginning to be seen as a young woman for the first time. Staying silent allowed others to assume that she was on their side, but deep down it was also a survival instinct to protect her burgeoning career.

“I saw how one comment ended such a powerful reign, and it terrified me,” says Swift. “These days, with social media, people can be so mad about something one day and then forget what they were mad about a couple weeks later. That’s fake outrage. But what happened to the Dixie Chicks was real outrage. I registered it — that you’re always one comment away from being done being able to make music.” -Taylor Swift

And now that the eras tour is about to come to a close it feels like we're on the precipice of change. It's been difficult to articulate what's been occurring lately because it's evident that many overlapping narratives that had coexisted at once are now fighting for dominance. When Taylor adopted her third cat she named him Benjamin Button to represent going back in time to reclaim her past albums, but it also feels like she was referencing the contrasting life and death cycles between Benjamin and Daisy. When we compare Benjamin with Taylor's other cats Olivia and Meredith it becomes clear that he completes the characters in the fictional love triangle. There's Olivia as Taylor, Meredith as her muse (either her real muse, another version of Taylor or the pronouns of the muse in her lyrics) and Benjamin as Taylor™. Just like Benjamin Button's character, Taylor™ is growing younger as the rerecords are released and this journey will be complete once Taylor owns all of her music. In contrast Taylor and her muse are following Daisy's lifecycle combined with the metamorphosis of the butterfly life cycle. Once the death of Taylor™ occurs, Taylor and her muse will complete the rebirth cycle of the caterpillar by reemerging as butterflies by revealing their true selves to the public.

The divide between the swifties and gaylors has solidified over the last couple of months as everyone has essentially picked sides between Taylor and Taylor™. Just like a labyrinth differs from a maze because there is only one path of travel, Taylor is on a journey that only has one destination: coming out once and for all and creating positive change for others while she’s at it. The swifties believe that they're right and we're wrong because they've seen Taylor™ as the butterfly without realising that she was aging backwards like Benjamin Button. They haven't picked up on the signs that Taylor™ has emerged from the chrysalis as a caterpillar. On the other hand the gaylors are on the right track because we saw the signs that Taylor was a caterpillar concealing her truth in her lyrics and now we're witnessing the original version of Taylor emerging from the chrysalis as a glorious butterfly.

It feels like this transformation is both an ongoing process and a journey building up to a finale. The queer flagging over the years has been enough for many of us to accept that Taylor has already come out to those who could see it, while understanding that she’s drawing attention to the facade so that others can see it for themselves. This begins with understanding that Taylor has been the unreliable narrator of her own story, and at the same time has played into the role of the “one night or a wife” stereotypes that the public have made assumptions about over the years. So many people cling to this image of Taylor and the fact that she referred to herself as an ally once without considering that there is so much more evidence that suggests that Taylor lied about being an ally to conceal her truth from the majority of the public. And the dichotomy between Taylor and Taylor™ has increased with the new surprise song dresses. This feels like definitive proof that Taylor is queer regardless of which label she identifies with, and that the rainbow aesthetic isn’t just a thing of the past. This is more than enough proof for me, but it also feels like we're now on the precipice of big changes that will lead to undeniable proof in some form so that everyone else can see it. It currently feels like there are four different versions of Taylor, but at the end of the day only one of them is the real Taylor's version.

Lastly I'd like to finish up by comparing Taylor's journey towards midnight (rebirth cycle and butterfly lifecycle reaching completion) with both the mechanisms of a clock and the map of the solar system. When the planets orbit the sun they each take different lengths of time to complete a full loop in the same way the hands of a clock return to 12am or 12pm each time they complete a full loop. There are many measures of time in flux once we begin to add in the three different hands on the clock that all have their own cycles, just like the planets circling the sun.

Hours, minutes, seconds 🪞 days, months, years.

If we replace the planets with these measures of time we begin to see that there are many versions of midnight occurring . Taylor would be on the inner rings leading the way with a trail of Easter eggs and queer flagging. Followed by a mixture of the gaylors who have been around for years and those of us who have become gaylors more recently. We all go through our own personal experience of meeting Taylor at midnight when we begin to pick up on the queer flagging and then continue to loop around as we continue to learn more as time goes on. The next ring would represent those who are just starting to pick up on the queer flagging now that Taylor has become bolder than ever before. This is why Taylor has recreated examples with her current relationship, she wants them to be able to understand her journey in their own way. And finally the outer ring represents the rest who won't accept anything less than a formal coming out. This outer ring represents the finale of the final midnight before the next cycle begins again. And yet the hands of a clock don’t stop when they reach midnight, they continue through the cycle over and over again. It’s possible that Taylor has something big planned for the finale, but at the end of the day she’s still the same person she’s always been.

As a fellow millennial it would be remiss of me to not mention the exiled planet from the 90’s: Pluto. The planet that’s not a planet, but once was a planet, but is not considered a planet anymore... I could go on but my point is that the planet Pluto isn’t the only thing that’s missing, Taylor’s cat Meredith is missing too. “For Meredith, self quarantining is a way of life. Be like Meredith.” -insta caption from 2020. Taylor has recently posted both Benjamin and Olivia on her Instagram page, but Meredith hasn’t been seen since her photo appeared on the tortured poets department bulletin board. This feels like a great reminder that just because we don’t see her (or Taylor’s muse), that doesn’t mean that she’s not there. An unreliable narrator draws your attention away from the truth by focusing on the distraction in the hopes that you won’t notice what’s missing. Taylor has distracted us with the completion of the re-records and the fictional love triangle (Benjamin and Olivia) so that we wouldn’t notice that her muse was hiding in the shadows (Meredith). Just like Taylor is trying to convince the majority that her current relationship is real, she seems to be doing the same thing with Betty in the fictional love triangle. The way she describes Betty and James ending up together sounds an awful lot like “my boyfriend Travis!”. Taylor wants us to focus on Betty so that we won’t look elsewhere. And to tie it back to the curious case of Benjamin Button, Taylor™ (Benjamin) is the third wheel in the fictional love triangle and Taylor and her muse are both Daisy (Olivia and Meredith). In the end revealing which muse Meredith represents will be the finale of the finale. After all it’s not the tortured poet department, it’s the tortured poets department because there’s more than one tortured poet.

There’s two. ✌🏼

“I’m setting off, but not without my muse”

"And sometimes there’s no proof, you just know”

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

[mynahx3]

My Dear in the Night 1.2K

HELLOOOOO LOVELIES!! I live! HA! Months later and i'm finally happy with what I'm writing. Life kinda just got crazy so I had to put writing on the back burner for a bit. I do have a few goodies I'm editing rn so I can't wait to share em once they're done. This story is a little sneak peak to the one I'm realllllyyyyy excited about. It's a Author! Suguru x Ghost! Reader. Nothing to warn rn but it will get dark so buckle up! Should be out latest end of Sept

It was a cold autumn evening, the moon shining brightly above, as expected given that it was midway through October.

A man sat in his dark room, silent as he hunched over his desk. Tired eyes looked over his laptop, the damned cursor almost mocking him as it blinked on an empty page. He felt his lip twitch in irritation; the only other movement was the tapping of his leg against the wooden floors.

In the morning, he would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would wake with a dull ache in his lower back as a result of his terrible posture; his wrists hurt from years of misuse, and his eyes burned from the brightness of his laptop, yet he couldn't sleep. He wouldn't until he had something.

Hours of sitting at his desk had gone by with nothing to show for it. He was supposed to be a renowned horror author with plenty of titles to his name, but lately, nothing seemed to flow from his mind like before. Any and all inspiration for the particularly gruesome topics of his writing was gone. The creative spark in his mind kept the flames of his imagination burning bright like an inferno, seemingly with no end, but now it was fizzled out. Dimmed and barely flickering.

A desperation gnawed inside him, urging him to find that spark once again before it was too late. The pressure to produce something, anything, weighed heavily on his shoulders as he stared blankly at the empty page before him. That desperation is what drove him to this small community. It was a much-needed reprieve from the rush and bustle of city life.

Currently, he finds himself in a deeper stump.

Ravenwood, located in the Appalachian Mountains, was a small town known for its cold weather almost all year and even colder residents, particularly to outsiders. Most wouldn't even think to look twice at the drab town, but it seemed to gain a second life with holiday season. Many came for a vacation in the snowy mountains to find a nice retreat from the reality of their lives. A place many went to have that perfect winter wonderland experience for half the price of others.

What had garnered his attention wasn't the mountain sights to see nor the cozy, cheap cabins for rent; no, it was the history. One that has been soaked with blood since it's founding.

This place only seemed to be a magnet for misery and despair. Disasters, fires, murders, and everything else that could go wrong were common occurrences in this cursed town. Many speculated what the cause was— monsters in the night, a witch in the woods, a vengeful spirit haunting the mountains, or simply bad luck. One thing was for certain: this winter wonderland had a dark side that no amount of snow could cover up.

Those seeking excitement, debunkers, and ardent supporters of the supernatural were drawn to this. Tourist traps littered across town saw many people flocking like moths to a flame, which locals were quick to capitalize on. Each one caters to the morbid curiosity and fascination with the town's dark history, offering ghost tours, haunted house experiences, and other macabre attractions.

Just as many took advantage of the town, others frowned at the exploitation of their past, telling the yearly visitors to stop while they were ahead. Despite the warnings from locals about the dangers of delving too deeply into the town's past, visitors continued to flock in, eager to uncover the secrets.

The man had only come to find inspiration. He didn't care for the talk of ghosts, of curses, or even of aliens- funny enough. Not that he ever believed in any of those things to humor even the thought of them.

He was a writer, after all, and all he needed was a good story to tell. And the town of Ravenwood seemed to hold more than enough material for his next bestseller. He thought that the rich, dark history would help rekindle that fire inside him. To let his mind flow once more for his next book, the start of a new series after his last overwhelming success. So far, he had gotten the characters down, the setting figured out, but he only needed that extra push to get the plot ironed out. For months, he had thrown together ideas, ideas he tossed after thinking on them for a bit.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he refocused his vision, looking from the white of his laptop to the window in front of him. The branches of the dead tree in the lawn swayed with the wind, the leaves rustling softly. It was a quiet night; like always, the neighbors always made sure to avoid any disturbances. He straightens his back in his office chair, moving his long bangs back with his hand, releasing some of the tension from his stiff shoulders. The stress of his deadline and unending nagging from his editors had almost made him forget how nice the quiet was. Looking down, he saw the houses all dark and quiet, with only a few dim lights shining through the curtains.

The neighborhood was old but well kept; houses stood with character along the streets. Each one is now decorated for the upcoming holiday, with carved lanterns on almost every porch and tacky decorations adorning the lawn. Something swayed in the wind that caught his eye, chimes jingling from it. It was a talisman.

The same bundle of different herbs, crystals, and wax symbols was hanging from every door in the neighborhood. Supposedly, it was an item to ward off any evil spirits, something they kept up year round. The townsfolk had a sense of unity in their efforts to ward off any negative energy. They seemed to take pride in their traditions and beliefs, creating a unique atmosphere in the community.

As he adjusted to the new surroundings, he finally felt comfortable enough to ask about it. The older woman next door was happy to inform him of the significance. She even made sure to gift him one, her eyes hardening as she warned him to keep it and hang it above his door at all times. Being raised with respect, he took the item with a small, grateful smile, pocketing the item with care before discarding it onto the very desk he sat at. Left and forgotten. When he continued unpacking, he chuckled at the sight of it in his office, unsure of the strong belief in a bundle of twigs and rocks.

Picking the talisman up, he turned it over, his thumb rubbed over the wax seal. Feeling the grooves and ridges of the strange symbol carved into it.

Evidently, he did not take superstition seriously… in the beginning. Even beliefs can change at the drop of a dime. The months he spent in the town had changed him.

In the dark hours of the night, he experienced things that could not logically be explained. It started small. Things that could be explained away by a forgetful mind. His keys disappearing only to come up in a place he would never leave them. Furniture was being moved so slightly that he initially thought it was his imagination. That's what any logical man would do. Chalk it up to his aging mind, even at the age of thirty, or simply an overactive mind caused by insufficient sleep and too much caffeine. But as the occurrences became more frequent and unsettling, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off. Shadows seemed to linger longer than they should, and whispers could be heard in empty rooms. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, even when he was completely alone.

Then one day, it all became clear: it was her.

Tap, tap, tap.

A sharp knock jolted him from his thoughts once more; he seemed to be getting more and more lost in his mind as of late. He now saw a figure blocking the moonlight. Well, a normal person would block it. The figure in his window, on the second floor of his house, casts a bluish tint onto him; their body was almost transparent; he could see the branches swaying behind her still. When he finally looked at her face, a sweet smile appeared on her lips.

"Hellloooo!" She called with a singsong voice, tilting her head at him. Hand waving at him excitedly. "You gonna let me in, Sugu?"

[nikizource]

NIKI's The Buzz Tour setlist

Too Much Of A Good Thing

Colossal Loss

Backburner

Focus X Lowkey X Autumn

Magnets

Strong Girl

Blue Moon

Stars Are Blind (Cover) (OG: Paris Hilton)

Did You Like Her In The Morning?

Take Care

La La Lost You (Acoustic)

Keeping Tabs (Acoustic)

Oceans and Engines

Heirloom Pain

Before

Nothing Can

Paths

High School in Jakarta

Tsunami

Buzz

[soshiharin]

magnetic moon

summary: in which harin surprises tiffany on tour

set: 10 nov 2019

word count: 2.9k

warnings: swearing and i think thats it

an: note to self: write fics while listening to white noise. i was so productive like omg. words in bold are korean. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin picked up her bag, making sure she had everything she needed, before leaving her hotel room. She walked down the hallway to the elevator, shifting the poster that was tucked under her arm. She pressed the button to the elevator, waiting for it to arrive before getting on.

She soon exited the hotel, getting into the taxi that the doorman hailed for her. Tapping her foot as the driver drove to the venue, she couldn’t quell the excitement bubbling in her chest.

“We’re here,” the driver said when he pulled up to the concert venue.

Harin dug around in her wallet for money to pay him. “Thank you so much.” She opened the door, taking her things with her before leaving.

Walking to the entry of the Brooklyn Steel, Harin took a picture of the sign that had her members name on it.

“Wah, Hwang Miyoung,” she muttered, smirking, “you’re incredible.”

She walked into the building, showing the security guard her ticket before entering the main hall. When she got in, she was surprised to see that there was still space in the front. She immediately made her way forward, squeezing her way through the crowd to reach the barricade.

“Is this spot taken?” She asked a group of people that were standing by the barricade.

One of the people, a girl, turned her head to Harin. “Oh, no it isn’t. We’ve been wondering when someone would come stand here,” she said.

“Cool.” Harin moved to stand next to the girl. She put her poster down by her feet, resting her hand on the barricade.

“Oh my god, I love your jewellery!” One of the other girls complimented, staring at Harin’s rings.

Harin flexed her hands. “Thanks, one of my friends got me them.”

“Your friend has amazing taste.” That comment came from a boy.

“I’ll make sure to tell her.”

The first girl turned to fully face Harin. “I’m Samantha,” she introduced herself.

“Harper,” Harin responded, using her English name instead of her birth name.

“This is Riley–” she pointed at the other girl– “Luke–” she pointed at the boy– “Anna–” she pointed at another girl, who waved– “and Maddie–” She pointed at another girl, who was staring at his phone.

“A big group you got there,” Harin commented.

Samantha smiled. “We’ve been friends since we were twelve. We bonded over our love for K-Pop — and Girls’ Generation of course! — and we’ve been friends ever since. My bias is Hyoyeon, Riley’s are Seohyun and Yuri, Luke’s are Taeyeon, Harin and Yuri and Maddie’s are Sunny, Sooyoung and Tiffany. What about you?”

Harin smiled at Samantha, trying to come up with a response. “Um, mine changes all the time. But right now, it’s Yoona.”

“Oh my god! I forgot to mention, but she’s my bias wrecker,” Samantha added, putting a hand over her chest.

Harin continued to make conversation with the small group until the concert started. They all cheered as the intro to Run For Your Life started playing, cheering even louder when Tiffany came on stage. Harin held up her poster — it read Love you Fanny Pack —, making sure she didn’t block the people behind her.

As she watched her member perform, Harin felt herself tear up. Knowing how much Tiffany worked to be on that stage, she was so proud of her. She managed to hold herself together until she heard the beginning of Run Devil Run. She put her sign down, wiping the few tears that began to roll down her cheeks.

Focusing on Tiffany, Harin didn’t notice how Riley kept looking at her and then down at her phone. Riley showed her phone to Maddie, both of them looking at Harin again, this time with recognition in their faces.

Harin continued singing along to the songs with everyone, having the time of her life. She held up her poster again as Tiffany began to sing Magnetic Moon, making sure she’d be able to see it properly. When Tiffany went to her side of the venue, she waved her poster as she sang along, hoping to gain her members attention. Unfortunately, Tiffany didn’t notice her and instead went back to the centre of the stage. She continued to sing the song until it came to the instrumental part.

“Give it up for my dancers!” She told the crowd, causing everyone to cheer. “And for my wonderful band,” she added, gesturing to the musicians on the stage with her. “And one more time, for yourselves, thank you Brooklyn.” She bowed to the audience. When she raised her head again, she caught sight of Harin’s poster, looking down to see her member. “Oh my fucking god!” She exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “What are you doing here?” She asked excitedly.

“I’m here to watch my Fanny Pack,” Harin answered, causing the crowd to look at her, some people cheering when they recognised her, others struggling to.

“Guys, um… Oh my gosh, Harin’s here,” Tiffany announced, causing the venue to erupt in cheers. She walked to where Harin was standing and crouched down on the stage. “You should’ve told me you were here,” she complained, “we could’ve sung Run Devil Run together.”

“Babes, when I tell you I burst into tears when you sang that song, I mean it,” Harin admitted with a laugh.

“Aw, were you ugly crying?”

Harin stopped laughing. “I have dignity. I would never ugly cry in public. I’m so offended, right now.”

Tiffany squealed. “Girl, come on stage right now!” She looked at one of the security guards by the stage. “Can you open the barrier for her?”

The guard opened the barrier, letting Harin through before closing it again. As Harin walked onto the stage, she caught a glimpse of Samatha’s group’s shocked expressions, causing her to laugh. Making her way on stage, she hugged Tiffany tightly when they reached each other.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much! Oh my god,” Tiffany said when they pulled apart. She watched as the drummer passed her a microphone. “Is this why all of you have a mic on you? Because you knew she was coming?”

“Everybody knew, but you darling,” Harin told her.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Oh my god, I need to introduce you to my little group,” she said, remembering the group of friends she was standing next to.

“For those of you who can’t understand her accent,” Tiffany started, knowing that Harin wasn’t going to repeat herself in a clearer tone, “she said that she’s gonna introduce me to her little group.”

Harin rolled her eyes. “So we’ve got Samantha, Riley, Luke, Maddie and Anna,” she said, pointing at the different people, who started freaking out. “You’re Maddie’s favourite member.”

“Aw, thank you Maddie.” Tiffany put a hand over her chest. “I hope you enjoyed today’s concert, as chaotic as this ending is.” She looked at Harin. “You do know what you being here means, right?”

“I don’t, sorry.”

“We have to sing Into The New World!” Harin stared at Tiffany blankly, causing the singer to sigh. “You don’t remember the lyrics, do you?”

The crowd started laughing as Harin thought. “Saranghae and then…”

“Just Google it, oh my god.”

“Cool.” Harin pulled her phone out, searching for the lyrics to the song. “Okay, you start singing, I’ll do the harmony.”

“Okay.” Tiffany started singing the chorus, Harin joining in to do the harmony that she and Seohyun do in the studio version. When they were done, Tiffany smiled as she addressed the audience, “Okay, um… Thank you for coming to the concert today, guys. I love you so much and goodnight!” The two women bowed before walking off stage, Harin looking back to make sure that she had all of her things.

When they reached backstage, Tiffany took off her microphone and talked with the staff members. Harin hung back, standing against the wall as she took photos of her member. After finishing speaking with the staff, Tiffany went to Harin’s side, leading her member to her dressing room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, switching on the light. “Would you like water or anything?” She asked, going to a mini fridge in the corner of the room. She pulled out two bottles of water, holding one of them up in question.

“Yeah, thanks.” Harin nodded, sitting down on the small couch in the room.

Tiffany nodded, going to sit down next to Harin and handing her water. “So, how’s life?” She asked, shimmying her shoulders.

“Good! All the projects I’ve been working on are out, I visited Harrison and when I go back to Korea, I’m gonna have dinner with Dongwook’s parents.”

“Why would you have dinner with Dongwook sunbaenim’s p–” Tiffany’s eyes opened comically wide as she gasped. “You guys are back together?” She shrieked.

Harin bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Yeah. We got together again early this year. Seeing each other so often… brought up some emotions. Anyways, today isn’t about me. It’s about this girl I know, who just performed in the Brooklyn Steel. Do you know her?” She asked, Tiffany gradually blushing the more Harin spoke. “I think I’m in a group with her, but I can’t really remember h–”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Tiffany interrupted. “You wanna change the topic, I got it,” she playfully rolled her eyes. “But thank you so much for being here,” she thanked, voice full of gratitude. “It means a lot. Seriously.”

Harin rolled her eyes. “Of course I came! I love seeing the members doing their things. It wasn’t even a question of whether I was going to come or not, you know that right?”

“Totally,” Tiffany said, giving Harin her signature eye smile. “Ah! I’ve missed you so much!”

Harin nodded, untwisting the lid of her water bottle. “It has been way too long,” she agreed. “Should we end the hiatus?” She asked, referring to the hiatus that Girls’ Generation was on.

“We should, right? It’s just not, like, the same without the members. It’s still fun, but it’s kind of lonely,” Tiffany admitted, taking a sip of water.

Harin hummed as she drank her water. “I know what you mean. I was on the phone with Yuri the other day, and we ended up just crying about how much we missed working together… But it’s also very fun, like, doing this by ourselves.”

“Yeah, it’s like… we’re in charge of it? Kinda. Like, instead of the songs being Girls’ Generation’s sound, it’s Tiffany’s sound.”

“Yeah.” Harin sighed. “As sad as it is not having the members around all the time, it’s also very refreshing. Not saying I hate them or anything!” She said, realising how what she was saying sounded. “It just has given me a lot of time to, like, get to know myself better.”

Tiffany nodded enthusiastically. “Me too! Like, I devoted a lot of time to just figuring out who I am, and what I like, and what I need to do when I feel sad. It’s like I’m being myself more instead of, like, limiting myself to make other people comfortable.”

Harin groaned. “We did that a lot. Producer’s would ask us to tone it down, which is understandable because we needed to be palatable to the general public, but we also wanted to just be ourselves. Especially because we didn’t really know who we were.”

“Yeah. I think all of us are figuring out who we are right now. Like we’ve had bits and pieces of ideas of ourselves, but now we’re going in depth and finding out…”

“The nitty gritty,” Harin finished for her friend.

Tiffany clicked her fingers. “Exactly. Like I’ve found out so much about myself and it’s great! Like this is Tiffany Young.”

“We grew up well,” Harin commented, causing Tiffany to snort.

“You sound like your mom,” she explained as she continued laughing.

Harin chuckled before remembering something. “Oh my god, that reminds me!” She picked her bag up from the floor, digging around in it before retrieving a jewellery box. “This is for you.” She handed it to Tiffany, who gasped in surprise.

“Really?” She asked, accepting the box.

“How could they let me come here without a gift for their favourite daughter?” Harin joked, mentioning how her parents see all the members as their kids.

Tiffany opened the box, gasping when she saw a diamond necklace. On top of the necklace, was a note written by Harin’s parents. She read the note, smiling softly. “This is so touching, omo.” She stared at the necklace. “This is totally my style.” Frowning, she sighed. “I’m so thankful. Seriously.”

She suddenly looked up at Harin. “Let’s go live. On Instagram. Just talk with the fans and shit.”

Harin shrugged. “Okay.”

“We should do it on your account because I feel like if they get a notification that you’re live, it’ll be like ‘What the fuck is going on right now?’, you know?” Tiffany asked, closing the jewellery box and placing it next to her on the couch. “But if I went live, it’s like’ Okay–’” she shrugged dismissively– “‘she’s live.’ Like, there’s nothing crazy about it.”

“Okay, okay!” Hair exclaimed, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “We’ll go live on my account.” She unlocked her phone, going to the app. “Where are we gonna put the phone?”

Tiffany looked around the room. “Um, let’s take those chairs–” she pointed at two chairs next to the couch that had her makeup bags on them– “and go to the vanity. We’ll have great lighting.”

The two women moved the makeup bags off of the chairs, moving the chairs to the vanity area. They sat down as Harin started the livestream, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for people to join.

“Everybody’s coming in all at once!” Tiffany noted as she looked at the screen. “This is truly a once in a lifetime event.”

Harin rolled her eyes. “I use Instagram… when I feel like it.”

“But not enough.” Tiffany giggled, before addressing the viewers again, “Hi, everyone.” She waved. “If you were at today’s show then you know Harin was too. And now we’re going live because, why not?” She smiled, crinkling her nose. “How did you arrange everything?”

“I DMed one of the dancers and just asked if she could help me surprise you,” Harin said, “and then she got everybody in on it, I guess. Thank you so much, Delia.”

“Seriously, thank you Delia,” Tiffany echoed, making a heart with her hands. She leaned forward to read some comments. “‘Harin, solo comeback when, queen?’” She read out. “A lot of the comments are asking about new music.”

Harin stared at the screen with a shocked expression. “Um, I’m not really… Like, I haven’t made any plans for one. I’m not really working towards a comeback, as of right now. I just… am focusing on acting and want to work more towards that,” she admitted.

“Okay, then, by what year will you have released more songs?” Tiffany asked. “You gotta give them something to work with.”

“Let’s say… 2021. In two years.” She decided, seeing as the comments sped up. “I’ll make sure to arrange my schedule so that I can comeback in 2021. Just for you, SONE.”

Tiffany cheered. “We have a date, people! Mark your calendars.”

They continued to talk with fans, adding Yoona to the livestream when they noticed she was commenting a lot. There were many times where they had to remind each other that they weren’t on FaceTime whenever one of them almost revealed something private. For the fans watching, it felt like a catchup session with friends.

“I have to go now,” Yoona said with a sigh after forty minutes.

“I should also get going now,” Harin echoed, checking the time.

Tiffany blew a kiss and waved. “Thanks for coming, Yoona.”

Yoona pouted as she waved goodbye to everyone. “Bye, everyone,” she said before leaving the livestream.

“This has been fun, right?” Harin asked. “But now I have to go and I think Tiffany’s also going to have to go, so… Thank you for watching this.” She turned to Tiffany. “What do you say when you end a livestream?”

Tiffany burst out laughing, much to Harin’s confusion. “Just say bye!”

“Okay, bye everyone!” Harin leaned forward as she tried to end the livestream. “Is this the one?” She wondered as she pressed a button, groaning when the camera flipped instead of ending the stream. “Bloody flipped it ‘aven’t you?” She muttered, her Goerdie accent coming out thick. “Yah, help me!” She called out to Tiffany, who was laughing at her member’s struggle. Eventually, Tiffany helped Harin end the livestream.

“It was lovely seeing you, my lover,” Harin said as she stood by the door when she had collected her bag. “Until next time.”

Tiffany stepped forward, engulfing her friend in a hug. “Until next time,” she said, squeezing Harin tightly. They pulled apart soon after. “Wait, don’t forget your poster.” She moved to fetch the poster Harin made, but was stopped by her voice.

“Keep it. To remember me by.”

Tiffany groaned. “You’re so dramatic, oh my gosh.” She waved goodbye to her member. “Bye, Harin.”

“Bye, babe. I’ll text you when I get to my hotel.”

“Please do.”

“Yeah.”

Harin walked out of the building, catching a taxi back to her hotel. Just as she promised, she texted Tiffany when she arrived at the hotel. As she lay in bed after doing her night time routine, she scrolled through Twitter, seeing all of the tweets people had tagged her in. She liked some, and retweeted some, laughing to herself when she saw a specific one.

luke’s holiday night @scrtlovesong

can’t believe i was sitting next to my queen @jangharin_ and didn’t realise it

Harin @jangharin_

Honey, I’m everywhere

Harin Commented:

@scrtlovesong: can’t believe i was sitting next to my queen @jangharin_ and didn’t realise it

tagging: @moongrlz

©️ jang harin

[capuletoo]

Footnotes - Eddie Rountree

–summary: the reader is interviewing the band “daisy jones & the six” and focuses their attention on the bassist, even knowing that they are in completely different worlds.

–eddie roundtree x fem!reader

–TW: implied sex

–words: 688

As you entered the hotel, the corridors buzzed with excitement, echoing the electrifying energy of music enthusiasts and the distant sound of guitars being tuned. 

During your journalism course, you came face to face with the opportunity to interview the band “Daisy Jones & the Six”. This interview could forever change your career, this was the opportunity to make your name known. You couldn't turn down this opportunity.

The band's manager and you agreed for it to take place in the hotel the band was staying at, since they were on tour. 

In a spacious suite, the band members awaited you. The band had attained rock 'n' roll stardom, their music resonating with the rebellious spirit of the times. Among them was Eddie, the enigmatic bassist, whose piercing gaze and effortless charm captivated you from the moment you laid eyes on him. You had only seen him in photos, never being aware of the intensity of his eyes until now.

As the interview commenced, you found yourself drawn to Eddie´s wit and raw talent, but there was some sort of tension between him and Billy. It seemed as if they were fighting over who was the most talented. Apart from some questionable comments, the conversation flowed effortlessly, blending playful banter and questions about their music and influences. Everyone's energy floated around the room, everyone connected by passions.

Your gaze landed on Eddie only to find out he was already staring at you. You could only think about how the question you had planned for each member didn't work anymore, that the embarrassing amount of time you had spent planning this interview was lost time. 

Especially when you referred to Eddie. 

Because you felt that every question you had for him, was sort of revolutionary and that his answers might feel fatigued. There would be nothing more profound that you could ask him, than the questions that had already been asked by fans after their shows. There would be no answer he could give you that could provide you with more hope, love, and empathy than what was already staring right at you. 

It felt that you were reading his diary in between the glances you shared with him, not saying any word to each other and it felt like you already knew him front to back. 

What could you ask a musician when you have already read his footnotes in music sheets?

When the interview already endend, you headed to your room in the hotel, as well as the other members, every single one of them throwing a smile at you as you leave.

In the hotel room, your mind buzzed with the lingering thoughts and the magnetic connection you had felt with Eddie. In solitude, you replayed the moments spent with Eddie in your mind. The unspoken glances, the shared understanding, and the unexplainable pull between you both had left a mark.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You opened it to find Eddie standing there, his presence filling the room with inexplicable energy. 

It was midnight.

“I couldnt let the night end without seeing you one more time” he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of vulnerability and longing.

After stolen kisses, your shirt long forgotten sitting on the edge of the bed. The only source of light was Eddies cigarette and the moon that shone though the open doors of the balcony. 

Eddie was standing behind you, tracing his finger along the strap of your bra. Kisses along your neck, as you looked outside, beyond the balcony.

“Eddie,” You finally spoke, breaking the silence. “What happens now?”

You turned around and reached out for his cigarette, taking a drag as you felt the wind in your naked back.

He gave you no answer until the sun was just about to make its presence. His hands all over your body, yours in his hair, legs intertwined underneath the sheets.

“Our worlds are too different, and the road we´re on…” His lips were so close to yours. You didnt needed him to finish the sentence.

 “We have our own lives, our own dreams to pursue…”

[jonnylovers-in-neverland]

Coldplay’s Self-Help Pop

Chris Martin, the band’s front man, discusses reading Rumi, making music like an apple tree grows apples, and the band’s new album, “Moon Music.”

An interview by Amanda Petrusich (September 30, 2024)

On a recent afternoon in Malibu, Chris Martin, the front man of Coldplay, was enjoying a brief pause between tour dates. “We have breaks, but only in the way that Serena Williams has a banana between sets,” he said, pulling his bare feet up under him. Martin, who is forty-seven, was wearing an emerald-green sweater featuring a picture of the earth, affixed with a tiny white button that said “LOVE.” Later on, when he took the sweater off, he revealed a blue T-shirt with the same button. I wondered, but did not ask, how many of them he owned. It felt indicative of Martin’s quintessence at this particular moment: LOVE, layered ad infinitum.

Martin was in the midst of converting an old property into a studio and the de-facto Coldplay HQ. The complex was beset by scrubby clay slopes dotted with sagebrush, California aster, evergreen oaks. Martin likes to send visitors home with unlabelled jars of fresh honey from an apiary nearby. We sat at a picnic table overlooking a meadow. In conversation, Martin is engaging, magnetic. When I apologized for putting my sunglasses on—the light had suddenly shifted—he grinned: “No, I love it. It sort of flips the script. We’ll talk about your album in a minute.” We’d been discussing the gurgling anxiety inherent to any romantic entanglement—the fear of starting to need someone. It’s an idea that arises in “feelslikeimfallinginlove,” the swooning first single from “Moon Music,” the band’s tenth record, which comes out in October. “I know that this could feel like that / But I just can’t stop / Let my defenses drop,” Martin sings in the opening verse.

“There are two methods that humans use to survive,” Martin said. “One is calcification and sequestering and separating: my stuff, my tribe, my this, my that. And then the other half is so open to everything. Those people fall in love a lot more, but they also have a lot more heartbreak.” I guessed that he was in the latter camp. “I’m so open it’s ridiculous,” he said. “But, if you’re not afraid of rejection, it’s the most liberating thing in the world.” Well, sure—but who’s not afraid of rejection? “Of course,” Martin said, laughing. “To tell someone you love them, or to release an album, or to write a book, or to make a cake, or to cook your wife a meal—it’s terrifying. But if I tell this person I love them and they don’t love me back, I still gave them the gift of knowing someone loves them.” Martin noticed a slightly stricken look on my face. “I’m giving this advice to myself, too,” he added. “Don’t think I’ve got it mastered.”

Coldplay, which formed in 1997, in London, has sold more than a hundred million records. (Besides Martin, the band includes the guitarist Jonny Buckland, the bassist Guy Berryman, and the drummer Will Champion.) The ongoing tour for “Music of the Spheres,” the band’s prior release, has sold ten million tickets and made close to a billion dollars, becoming the highest-grossing rock tour of the past forty years. It has broken attendance records in countries including Romania, Singapore, Brazil, Colombia, the Netherlands, Chile, Portugal, Sweden, France, Indonesia, Italy, and Greece. (When I brought this up, Martin was quick to note how colonialism has enabled his success: “We’re only able to play in so many countries because people who spoke English did such terrible things all around the world.”)

“Moon Music” was produced by Max Martin, the Swedish hitmaker behind twenty-seven No. 1 singles. Martin described Max Martin’s technique as “a mix of mathematics and fluidity, of real structure and being totally open,” adding, with a kind of proud certainty, “He’s our producer now.” Martin also confirmed that Coldplay will make two more albums and then stop recording, though the band will continue to tour. “Yesterday, I went to see the L.A. Philharmonic. All those songs were released two hundred years ago,” he said. “It still felt extremely vibrant. So perhaps there’s a point where new material is not essential to make an amazing show.”

Martin, like many successful songwriters, explains the work as a kind of divine channelling: a song appears and he receives it. “If you’re lucky enough to have the space to let the music talk to you, and through you, then you can relax a bit,” he told me. “I’m just sort of doing what I’m told, the way an apple tree grows apples.” He said that establishing the Coldplay catalogue as finite has been liberating for the band: “By knowing there’s an end point, nobody is phoning it in. We only have two more chances. And most of the songs already exist, in a skeletal form.” I asked if that last day in the studio might be sad for him—a final take, the feeling of knowing that something is over. I find ending things so excruciating, I told him, I’d often rather just go down with the ship. He gave me a sympathetic look. “I think it will feel amazing,” he said.

At some point, Coldplay became—how else do I say it?—motivational. In recent years, it has felt less like a band than like an engine of unrelenting positivity, a high-grade confetti cannon straight to the face. The shift started around 2014, with the release of “Ghost Stories,” which contained little rancor or moodiness, fewer nods to Echo and the Bunnymen, less audible guitar. Coldplay, once skewered by critics for being too plaintive and self-pitying, was now broadcasting the opposite message: everything is magic. It reminded me, in some circuitous way, of “Attitude,” the punk band Bad Brains’ one-minute opus from 1982, in which the vocalist H.R. barks, “Hey, we got that P.M.A.!”—a reference to “positive mental attitude,” a phrase coined in 1937 by the author and probable con man Napoleon Hill. He was peddling a notion that we today refer to as manifestation: “Anything the human mind can believe, the human mind can achieve.” But Bad Brains still had fury, bite, edge. For whatever reason, Coldplay had willfully neutralized itself.

In Malibu, when I needled Martin about that change—what happened, exactly, to the yearning and discord of “Parachutes” or “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” the band’s first two releases?—he attributed it both to a burgeoning interest in Rumi, the thirteenth-century Sufi mystic, and to his experience working with the visionary electronic musician Brian Eno, who produced “Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends,” Coldplay’s fourth album. Martin said that Eno’s purity and sense of wonder had helped him “completely abandon the concept of trying to be cool. He came in with the enthusiasm of a nine-year-old for everything.” Mostly, though, Martin sees the change as incremental, organic. “It’s not like it was black-and-white, and then became color,” he said. “The first song on the first album is called ‘Don’t Panic.’ There’s also a song called ‘Everything’s Not Lost,’ which is exactly the same message that we’re singing now. Just sung by a slightly less experienced, more insecure, younger person.”

Though he likely wouldn’t frame it this way, Martin appears motivated by a kind of vocational mandate. He occupies a rarefied position, insofar as it’s actually possible for him to make the world a little less fractured, for a couple of hours, seventy-five thousand people at a time. This requires obliterating his ego, and accepting that a lot of people will find what he’s doing—bouncing around a stage covered with rainbows, singing lines such as “In the end it’s just love,” as he does on “One World,” which closes “Moon Music”—unbearably corny. In a way, the messaging has to be flat to translate so widely. On “Clocks,” a lush and tumbling track from “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” Martin sings about grappling with his own fallibility and bafflement, of trying his best to be of service in the world: “Am I part of the cure, or am I part of the disease?” His voice swoons, flutters, dissipates. “You are,” he answers. It’s a strange lyric, but I’ve always appreciated its strangeness: cure, disease, good, bad, hurtful, benevolent. You are.

These days, Martin describes the band’s message as “No one is more or less special than anyone else.” He went on, “The reason I’m able to say that is because we’re one of the few groups of people who get to actually see it. We travel everywhere. What Ryszard Kapuściński would call ‘the Other’ is not real.” I asked him what it felt like to stand onstage in, say, Kuala Lumpur, or Helsinki, or Tokyo, and hear the crowd bellowing his lyrics back to him, to one another, to themselves, to the air. “It feels like the answer,” he said. “It feels like: This is where humans actually work. It has nothing to do with us as a band. There are points where, hopefully, nothing exists except ‘We’re all just singing this together.’ ”

Ultimately, Martin hopes that by providing solace, and a place to unify, Coldplay can actualize some change in the world. I thought this sounded idealistic, even quixotic, until I considered all the ways in which I had been made better by songs. “If you’re able to live as yourself and understand who you are, whatever that might mean in terms of your gender or sexuality or what you like to eat or where you like to live or whether you like table tennis or riding donkeys . . . if you’re allowed to be yourself, would the world be as aggressive as it is?” Martin asked. “My feeling is no, I don’t think it would. I think much of the violence and conflict comes from repression, suppression, unreleased damage.”

Eventually, the air started to cool. Martin brought me a sweatshirt. Our conversation wound toward more existential matters: people we’d lost, what it meant, what it didn’t mean. “Death is in our songs a lot,” Martin said. “Maybe as a way of encouraging living. And also faith—the idea that, well, it’s O.K. It’s all O.K., isn’t it? I’m sure that’s crossed your mind.” The sun was beginning to ease into the Pacific. We sat for a moment in the hazy yellow pre-dusk. The air was parched, salty, soft. “Everything is perfect, of course,” Martin said. “Everything’s as it’s supposed to be.”

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: My Time at Sandrock

Rating: M

Pairing: Fang x F!builder

AO3

Chapter 1: a visit

Summer, 104

Sage

—

Sage stepped off the bus from Portia as a cloud of dust floated up into the air and she reeled back breathing it in, eyes watering and nose tickling. She sneezed into her sleeve and reopened her burning eyes to be greeted by Logan. Taller than her by at least half a foot, and eyes as blue as the oasis, Sage understood why her twin sister was immediately magnetized to the man the day she saw him. On a wanted poster no less. It still made Sage chuckle to this day.

Logan stole her suitcase right out of her hand and beamed at her.

“Where’s Violet?” She asked.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“You need to make her take days off.”

“You think I can make her do anything? She’s as stubborn as a boxing jack. Worse actually.”

Sage sighed. “Yes. She is.”

“She says you ain’t much different.”

“Perhaps. But have you considered there is a reason she gets that first place trophy every year?”

“She told me once, that you let her win.”

“I’m here to tell you she’s lying.”

Logan chuckled at that while curling his hand around his belt buckle. “Well, come on, maybe once she sees you, she’ll realize her commissions can wait.”

“I do admire your optimism,” Sage said as she trailed after Logan.

It was just a short stretch to walk from the bus stop to Violet’s workshop. But it was enough for Sage to realize she’s over dressed, roasting under her long sleeved shirt with a matching belted harness and cape. Her trousers were loose at least, and laced boots knee high to keep all the sand out. But every piece of her outfit was too much black for a desert sun. She mumbled an almost inaudible incantation to keep herself cool while lagging behind Logan’s long-legged stride, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Though, the man probably knew their family secret. Still, better to be safe.

“Does my sister have to run to keep up with you?” Sage commented when they arrived at the gate.

She steadied herself on the fence to catch her breath and wished she would’ve kept up her training with Arlo the past year.

Logan laughed. “I have to run to keep up with her!”

He held the gate open and Sage peeled herself off the fence to follow him into the yard. Somehow she believed that what Logan said was true. Violet was always flitting about like a bee, buzzing along to her next task. Veering to the right, past the stables, Sage spotted her sister slouched over, painting steady strokes of blue onto some flower boxes. Her white shirt sleeves were rolled up to her muscled shoulders, sweat shining in rivulets that trailed down her tanned triceps. Sage was similar in build, though she’d been kissed more delicately by Portia’s summer sun, her freckles less prominent.

“Hey Darlin’, look who’s here,” Logan said.

Violet glanced up from her work, her dark blue locks pulled back into a thick braid while a few strands framed her face, her grin spreading wide as the bright sunlight glinted off her nose ring. The brightness almost obscured the freckles that dusted her nose and apples of her cheeks. She set the box aside, wiping her hands on her red and white striped work apron and threw her arms around Sage. She wrapped her sister up in a long, overdue hug and squeezed. When they finally parted, a string of half dried paint clung to her shirt and Violet swept it away with a chuckle.

“You want to take a tour of the town?” Violet asked. I need the paint to dry on those boxes so might as well give you the lay of the land.” She plucked her leather work gloves off and pocketed them in the front of her apron.

“You act like I’ve never been here before.”

“A weekend at the Blue Moon Saloon and the church, mostly cluttering up your schedule with wedding duties is hardly what I’d call getting a feel for Sandrock. Besides, Mi-an, Wei and I have spruced up so much more since you were here last month.”

“Very well, show me your pride and joy,” Sage said with a smile and Violet clapped enthusiastically.

Violet practically vibrated with joy. “You’re gonna love our little town, Sage. Can’t wait to show you around. Maybe I can even convince you to move here, yet.”

—

The valley stretched as far as her eyes could see but Sage’s drifted up to the sky. Inside the tram cart, she imagined herself flying and free. The way the fluffy clouds swirled on the horizon, soaking up the sun's rays and glowing in orange, with ruffles of purple, made her wish she had wings. She was ready to float on air after a day of endless introductions and small talk.

“It’s gorgeous up here.” She dangled her arms over the side of the cart and watched a bird flit across the sky and disappear behind a distant peak.

“It is,” Violet replied from beside her with a little sigh.

“Can’t believe you built this.”

“Me neither. I didn’t do it alone though,” she continued. “The Sandrockers are just always working together to pull through for me. They’re good people. Real good.”

“They are. The way you talk about this place, plus the views and the warmth of the people—makes me want to leave my old life behind and live here.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because—well, Vi.” There was only one reason really but she didn’t know how to say it. “I just can’t.”

“You can. You’ve told me time and time again how you’ve never wanted to be a builder. So, why don’t you stop holdin’ yourself back and start working toward your future? Logan and I would be more than willing to get you settled in here.”

“You would?” Sage cocked her head sideways at her sister.

“Of course.” She grinned while throwing her arm around Sage’s shoulder. “Plus you know me, I always want you around. It would be so nice to have you here in Sandrock. You could come with me to Saturday night story time with Owen and Sunday fireside meetin’s that always end up with a little party back at my place and—”

Violet launched into a speech of activities to participate in together as Sage turned back to the view. The sun sunk halfway below the horizon, brushing the sky with hues of pink and orange that had her believing her sister's words. She could move to Sandrock. Minus all those activities she was planning.

There was nothing holding her back. Well, nothing except her misplaced hope that he might return.

—

Sage pulled fresh rolls from the oven and slid the tray on top of the stove. The savory scent of caramelized onion and garlic she added to the dough before it baked filled her nose and her stomach rumbled.

“That smells heavenly,” Violet told her in a sing-song voice and then the doorbell rang.

“Did you invite someone over for dinner?” Sage asked.

“I sure did. But it’s a surprise so you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“This better not be a blind date. You know I’m not ready. I didn’t come here for that.”

Violet booped her nose and chuckled. “Not a date. I promise. He’s a friend and I just think you’d get along. He’s quiet. More than you, even. But he’s real kind.” She hurried towards the door but stopped in the frame and glanced back over her shoulder. “But it wouldn’t hurt to put the feelers out.”

Sage inhaled deeply to keep from shouting at her sister and turned back to the rolls. Violet disappeared and Sage reminded herself that her sister’s intentions came from a good place. Sweet even. Another deep breath and she noted that the tops were perfectly browned and ready to serve and smiled to herself with pride. She dug around in the cupboards for a basket to put them in and spotted one high up on the refrigerator and climbed the counter, stretching herself across the small gap. The tops of her fingers curled around the basket. She teetered but regained her balance, snatching the basket and clenching it against her chest, she crouched down and then jumped to the floor.

She busied herself with setting the table and then stirred the stewed mushrooms on the stovetop. Adding just a hint of extra cilantro, she left them to simmer a tad more while tossing the alfalfa salad with a few extra fresh veggies and a light vinaigrette. She set the salad bowl on the table with tongs and returned to the stovetop just as her sister ushered in the most beautiful man with blue eyes and long silken black hair she’s ever laid eyes on. He was nearly as tall as Logan but much more slight, dressed in a simple white button up and slightly tattered trousers, she gathered before averting her gaze. It’s rude to stare, she reminded herself.

“Sage, I want you to meet Doctor Fang,” Violet said.

The name sounded so familiar but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before. She raised her hand in a small greeting. An awkward wave. “Hi,” she said.

Doctor Fang’s expression was unreadable as his eyes fell on her. A raven suddenly swooped in from behind him and landed on his shoulder. It whistled then said, “Pretty bird! Who’s this?”

“It’s—the builder’s sister,” Doctor Fang said in the softest, most comforting voice Sage had ever heard. She wanted to wrap herself up in it like a cozy blanket and fall asleep under the stars.

Picking her jaw up off the floor, Sage blinked. “That’s right. I’m Vi’s sister, Sage” she said to the bird.

“This is—X,” said Doctor Fang.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you, X.” She offered a small smile. “And you, Doctor Fang.”

“Now that we’ve got all the introductions out of the way,” Violet clapped excitedly, “let’s have a seat, dig in and eat!”

Sage slid into the chair next to her sister and filled her plate with salad and then buttered her roll liberally, delighting in the way the softness just melted in her mouth as she took a bite. Meanwhile Violet told a story about her most recent adventure. Something about trying to collect cactus flowers for Doctor Fang when a boxing jack (which Sage had heard about plenty of times but fortunately had never come across) knocked her on her ass. Thankfully Logan had been at his outpost and spotted her in time to assist. Violet and Logan took turns telling the story of his heroic save and Sage listened while filling her stomach with the delicious foods on the table. By the end of their storytelling, Sage was done eating and collected her dirty dish from the table. She didn’t learn a thing about Doctor Fang because he barely said a word. Not like he could really get a word in edgewise anyway.

Eventually Logan and Violet dropped their plates in the sink and she was surprised when the Doctor joined her, drying the dishes she'd set in the drying rack.

“The rolls—did you make them?” He asked as he pulled open the cupboard, stacking the plates he'd dried.

“Yes,” she replied.

“They were very—good.”

“Thank you,” she said as she worked at cleaning the pot next.

She bit down on her lip while she scrubbed, channeling all her focus into cleaning. She almost forgot that Doctor Fang was with her and that she’d left him in silence for a decent length of time. But she only had one dish left.

Sage wiped the last dish clean and handed it to Doctor Fang. The walls shook and there was a low groan that

filtered through the floorboards as she briefly grazed his long fingers in the dish exchange. Flushing red, she muttered an apology. But Fang acted like it was nothing.

“I must—return home,” he said as another moan, much louder and longer than before, washed over them.

Sage refused to be left in the house with her sister and Logan, so at the risk of sounding desperate she asked, “can I please walk you home?” She cringed.

“Yes,” he stated simply, unaffected by the sounds going on around them. Or at least appearing not to be anyway.

Sage wished she had half his decorum.

“Thank you,” she breathed, following after him as he made his way toward the door.

The cool air washed over her as she sighed with relief, easily keeping pace with the Doctor as he led the way to his home in the night.

—

“You live in the clinic?” She asked once he stopped just outside the door, one hand pushing on it, letting the light spill out, grazing the top curve of her black boots.

“Yes,” he said simply. One foot was in the doorway, the other with her.

She wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to go or for her to come in. Each minute passed made her second guessing worse.

“Come in!” Squawked X. “Don’t be shy! Shy!”

“X! Be quiet,” Doctor Fang said softly.

Sage took that as a sign.

“Wanna go back?” X squawked again.

Sage stared at the two of them a bit baffled. “Not particularly. I need to find something else to do while—” she hesitated. There was no need for an explanation. He was a stranger. They owed nothing to each other. “I hope you two have a good night,” she said instead and turned around.

“Thank you.” Fang’s words were a whisper of a hand on her shoulder but as she glanced back, the door clicked shut as the clinic bathed her in its warm red lighting.

Sage knew she couldn’t go back to her sisters just yet and she didn’t want to go to the Saloon. There was just too much noise and brightness there and she was far too exhausted from the day. She wandered over to the bench, situated between the clinic and the Golden Goose, and took a page out of her good friend Mint’s book. Curling up with one arm under her head as a pillow, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

But it wasn’t long before she dreamt of the Rogue Knight again. He had pinned her to the ground, his sword at her chest and his laughter echoed as his mask melted away. The kind brown eyes of a betrothed betrayer mocked her. She thrashed and glanced away, not wanting to see the face behind the mask. Pain rippled through her nerves as the edge of his blade tore through her clothes and nicked her skin. Then he plunged it deep. A sharp intake of breath and she threw her eyes open, jolting upright. Five years gone and she hated the hold he had on her even after all this time.

X was pecking at her shirt and she didn’t mean to swat at him. “Wanna go back!” He was shouting over and over as she came to, blinking. It was still night.

She sat up and X landed on the shoulder of Doctor Fang. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I just—I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

Doctor Fang stared at her, tilting his head quizzically then turned away. He gestured for her to follow. “Come with me.”

[foxes-that-run]

Snow on the beach

Taylor said SOTB is about falling in love in a "cataclysmic, faded moment" at the same time and asking if it is really happening. SOTB is rare love song on Midnights that references an ex and 1989. it’s I Wish you would set later with Harry.

Lyric video

The lyric video recreates the 1989 Rolling Stone shoot, which she previously did in part of the End Game music video that also references Harry. In End Game this refers to "I don't wanna hurt you (I just wanna be) / Drinkin' on a beach with (you all over me)".

All for you like Janet

An 80's icon (a la 1989), Janet was going through a divorce from a low-profile/secret marriage when she wrote All for You. All for you is about sexual liberation of being newly single. Taylor and Joe's long low-profile relationship was ending when SOTB was released, we hadn’t seen Joe much for a year, they walked in NY on release day and never again. The split was announced 5 months later.

Literal Snow on a beach

On 29 December 2011 Taylor posted a photo on a beach with light snow behind her. The shadows on her hair show the sun was either setting or rising inland. It's most likely in the afternoon on a western coast. It snows on the beach in NJ, but that would be very early in the morning and hadn't snowed that year. It did snow on the beach in Liverpool that year, 50 minutes from Harry Styles family house where he was that day. Taylor hadn't been seen for 2 weeks before this photo. See more in 2011 timeline.

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Lyrics

[Verse 1: Taylor Swift] One night, a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could've been lights But it might just have been you Passing by unbeknownst to me Life is emotionally abusive And time can't stop me quite like you did And my flight was awful, thanks for asking I'm unglued, thanks to you

The opening verse we have lights passing her unbeknownst to her, reminding us of him driving past her house in wish you would at night, and Style/HYGTG when he picked her up at night. She’s wishing for him.

‘Life is emotionally abusive and time can’t stop me quite like you did’ “you did”, we’re talking about an ex driving by. Time is no match for her feelings for the muse, it’s been years and she’s still dreaming of him. 'Life is emotionally abusive' because she’s not moved on despite her efforts to have a new life.

Finally, the flight tells us she and the muse are apart, UK/US or with tours, but she doesn't mind she is unglued at the thought of being with her 'cataclysmic' muse (...her calamitous love. ;))

[Chorus: Taylor Swift, Taylor Swift & Lana Del Rey] And it's like snow at the beach Weird, but fuckin' beautiful Flying in a dream Stars by the pocketful You wanting me Tonight feels impossible But it's comin' down No sound, it's all around Like snow on the beach x3

'Weird, but beautiful and dreamlike' depict the joyous feeling of your desire being reciprocated. She's longed for this person so much she's unglued at the idea that it could actually happen after all the time that passed in verse 1.

'No sound' is also similar to 'you can hear it in the silence' from 'You are in love' which is a beautiful moment. In 'You are in love' she sang that you could tell it was love without words, as here. However, we know the absence of those words haunts them, here's hoping for a good post-beach-fireworks chat.

Harry’s leaked Trouble also refers to snow in an unexpected, beachy place “It never snows in Hollywood / But when we sang it showed us that it could”

[Verse 2: Taylor Swift, Taylor Swift & Lana Del Rey] This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen I searched "aurora borealis green" I've never seen someone lit from within Blurring out my periphery My smile is like I won a contest And to hide that would be so dishonest And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it 'Til you do, 'til it's true

I searched "aurora borealis green" and lit from within and blurring out her periphery are references to Harry's green eyes and the magnetic presence she has sung about in other songs.

In the later released 1989 Vault track Suburban Legends his phone caught her peripheral vision. In Snow on the Beach she's so blissful to be back together she's putting past insecurities aside.

She goes on to resolve to let herself be in this blissful moment, get out of her own way and let her feelings be known. She ends with faking it till you make it. I read that as her seeing and setting aside her insecurities until she is confident and feels secure.

I (I) can't (can't) speak afraid to jinx it I (I) don't (don't) even dare to wish it But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet Now I'm all for you like Janet Can this be a real thing? Can it?

Taylor cannot believe that this person she has desired for so long feels the same, she can't dare to dream about it. Finally, she is all for him like Janet - aka feeling sexually liberated after getting out of a long secret/low profile relationship.

[bam-stroker]

You have been the tour bus driver for the famous Fazbear Co. rock star duo Sun and Moon for 8 months. You've all gotten to know each other and lately the boys have been flirting relentlessly. Will Y/N finally catch the hint? Featuring: silly magnets, crocs as fashion, a very chubby raccoon, and finally some robot fucker content. @kaleidoscopek9, thank you for your punk robot brain rot. This was heavily inspired by your boys and then I ran off in my own direction. *Salutes to you in writer* Anyway, crosses self insert robot fuckery with feelings off my 2023 list of things I had no idea I'd end up writing list.

[sidrashakti]

Dita Von Teese’s Natal Chart 

Before looking at her chart, I expected Libra/Scorpio maybe Dhanistha because she's a dancer but was very surprised! These are my initial observations after looking at her chart for only a few minutes.

♈ This birth time gives her Aries rising with Mars in Uttara Phalguni conjunct sun in 6th. 

♍ Virgo stellium is very fitting because Dita is a scholar of Burlesque, really appreciates craftsmanship, does her own glam for shows, and mentions keeping strict health routines. Her form of meticulous beauty is very Virgo.

♌ 3rd and 5th house (Leo) rulers in 6th: These are the houses of performance linked to her Virgo stellium.

♋ Her AK is Venus in Ashlesha in 4th (Same as Selma Hayek) cause her to represent a feminine ideal in this incarnation. Her home was featured in Architectural Digest (linked below) and looks like a museum, she has spent serious effort and money to beautify it.

Her ex husband Marilyn Manson’s ascendant is 27 degrees of Ashlesha! Her Venus and AK being his rising implies they had a magnetic attraction. His AK is Jupiter in Hasta, her sun sign.

♃ Her Jupiter in Mula Pada 3 (Gemini): Manson’s goth aesthetic embodies the dark energy of Mula and Ketu naks and is known being more intellectual than the average rockstar, but she may get married again. In the 9th house, perhaps she looks for partners with similar religious views as her?

♄ Saturn in second: She mentioned she always saves her money, and made slow and steady financial gain. 

♒ Aquarius 11th house with Saturn in 2nd: She known for something unique (bringing traditional burlesque to modern audiences - Saturn) and it led to large financial gains

♑ 10th house Capricorn: She is 51 currently and still touring as a dancer, which is very rare.

♊ Ketu in Punarvasu: Dita doesn’t have children and says she felt very neutral about motherhood, with ketu in punarvasu she may have had many children in her last life and learned her spiritual lessons around it in that incarnation.

♊ Gemini moon in 3rd: She wrote a beauty book.

♑ Rahu in UA in 9th: This is an extremely interesting placement, if anyone knows more. She frequently travels for work, is popular with the wealthy class, UA grants eternal victory

A link to her house tour: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHyIOIstYRA