#mags post soon i promise

[catsnuggie]

scrybe scribbling.

[mortal-kingss]

“I guess the Corruption likes you as a moth. I think it’s fitting. Do you know what a moth is to a spider, Jon?”

“You know I don’t.” His back is to Martin, and he can feel another set of hands creep to his waist.

“Prey.” Martin whispers into his ear, taking his hands as he laughs softly.

—

HELLO!!! i made a fic for this piece, its an au!!! please check it out, i spent a long time working on it i hope u enjoy it <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/49448209

[neim-batteries-not-included]

It’s asexual awareness week!!! I present the most aware asexual!!!

(Possible eyestrain and trypophobia, vague spoilers for tma under the cut)

That is not his cardigan. You can decide whose it is, but it’s. It’s not his.

(Click for better quality)

[oneshotnewbie]

how are you??

i was looking at your list and saw that you write for the walking dead and was wondering if you’d be willing to do a request on it for me? thank you!!

so it’s basically maggie greene (rhee) x teen!reader where reader is like a daughter or a younger sister to her. it’s nothing special or major, but maybe just a cute little story where reader gets sick or hurt and maggie takes care of her and is all motherly/big sister-like with reader?

also reader’s carl’s age, so i think about fourteen then? again, you can change the age if you need to, i don’t mind!

- 🍄 anon

Authors note: Hey, sweet mushroom. I am doing okay so far, I hope you are doing great! At the same time, I hope you like this little story ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The world was a shadowy landscape of ruined buildings, deserted streets and the faint echoes of past civilization. The earth, once vibrant with life, now lay in the grip of a post-apocalyptic silence.

In the middle of this desolate scenario, between rusty walls, lived Maggie with her small "family" - a group of survivors who had come together to survive in this unnatural world. Among them you, whose real name had long been lost in the turmoil of time.

It was the icy wind of a wintry morning that intensified the already bitter cold of the Forsaken Land as an ominous cough snaked its way through the silence of the house. Maggie sensed the icy breath of sickness beginning to spread through the ranks of the community. You, who had previously been a steadfast and indestructible pillar of the group, were among those affected and woke up with a feverish chill.

The symptoms appeared quickly: fever, chills and an exhausted look that bore the marks of suffering. But Maggie, a woman with an aura of determination and keen eye for your needs, recognized the gravity of your situation. Your body heavy, limbs aching, and eyes bloodshot from the fever that burned within you like a raging fire. "Hey, how are you feeling today kiddo?"

"Mags, I feel like I've been torn apart by a pack of wild dogs," you whispered, every movement making your body tremble as the older one approached your bed. Your voice, a faint breath in the gloomy silence, betrayed the exhaustion and weakness that the illness brought with it.

She sat down in an empty spot on your bed and gently placed a hand on your forehead. "You're literally burning. I have to see what I can find to help you. Otherwise the fever will kill you," she spoke with a look that told stories of loss and will to survive as her inner turmoil filled the air. "You want to leave me?"

"Just to get you and the others medicine,“ The group had hardly any remedies left to fight the disease. Medicines were in short supply, and the improvised teas offered no protection against the creeping germs. The post-apocalyptic world was not forgiving, and illnesses often became inescapable judgments. But the woman in front of you refused to just abandon you to your fate. Her connection to you was deeper than anyone else's. You had become like a little sister to her, someone she wanted and even needed to protect and support. "Carol will stay with you for the time I'm gone and take care of you. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. I promise."

With one last goodbye kiss, she left you in bed and set off with Daryl to do everything they could to bring you relief while, without her, time blurred into an endless succession of feverish hours and cough-ragged days.

The sun had long since hidden behind the toxic clouds in the sky when the search for medicine became a fight for survival in the shattered ruins of the buildings. The footsteps on broken glass and the constant gusts of wind blowing through the dilapidated shutters seemed to underscore the urgency of the mission.

She searched for medication in numerous abandoned pharmacies and barricaded doctor's offices. Her hands, battered by the cold and the endless digging through rubble, searched for the glimmer of hope amid the devastation until she finally came across locked cupboards, the only contents of which were a few bottles, expired medication and a few blankets. Maggie wasn't discouraged and took everything she could find. With a tenacity driven by her love for you, she returned to make use of what little she had found.

"Here, take this, sweetheart," she said, handing you a handful of expired medication. "It's not much, but it should at least bring down the fever a little." You smiled weakly and accepted the pills gratefully, barely getting into a sitting position. "Thanks. I don't know how I would do this without you."

She waved it off as if it were obvious. "In these times, we need to stick together. No one should wander alone in the dark. Especially not you," she helped you take the pills and then spread an extra blanket over you. "You're like my little sister, y/n. If something happened to you- I would never be happy again."

Over the next few days, your bedroom became a kind of makeshift hospital room and she began to care for you with a mix of old survival instincts and an unwavering caring nature. Blankets and hot water bottles became weapons in her fight against the invisible threat that took over your body.

The wind howled around the corners and an icy storm raged outside as the brunette spent the next few days cooking soups that she laced with fever-reducing drugs. She woke up by your side nightly, placing wet towels on your hot forehead and whispering soothing words into the darkness while you slept. The nights were long and quiet, interrupted only by the patients' wheezing and the crackling of their movements.

The group watched as the woman, who otherwise seemed so stoic and aloof, cared for you tenderly and self-sacrificingly. The others, who otherwise only knew the harsh reality of everyday life, witnessed a love between strangers that became family and that was more precious than any resource in these times.

Time crawled by and the disease tried to tighten its ugly claws. But Maggie's care and love proved to be powerful weapons. You fought against the disease, strengthened by their tireless help and solidarity support.

You lay weak, but your eyes still sparkled with life. In the quiet moments between feverish bouts, you and Maggie found time to talk quietly. "You have to stay strong, y/n. The world may have fallen apart, but we can't let it break us," she spoke as she cooled your forehead.

You smiled weakly, your eyes glassy with tiredness. "You're like a mother to me, Mags. I really can't imagine what it would be like without you."

Maggie just sighed quietly. "You are my family. I can't imagine what it would be like without you either."

The days passed and the illness slowly faded away like the side after a storm. You struggled back to your feet, strengthened by her unwavering belief in survival. The post-apocalyptic world may have been one of destruction and loss, but in this small corner of reality, humanity shone in its purest form, igniting a flame of hope for every survivor who walked the streets of Alexandria.

[archivistofmusic]

Another ooc post (I promise I'll get back to writing soon haha).

Would anyone be interested in an rp blog that instead of following this Institute would follow The Archivist? It would be less focused on the writing and more roleplay focused (kind of similar to English Willy if you've ever seen those posts but without the art). For the universe I was kind of thinking same universe as TMA (fears, The Magnus Institute, the existence of the same characters), but the events of MAG 160 and beyond have not happened. I though it would be a way that I could continue creating content and lore for this blog and Institute without burning out quite as much haha. I just think it would be a fun way to both create more lore for this Institute, The Archivist of this Institute, and a way for people who like this blog to be able to interact with the universe in more ways than just sending in song requests.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Inspired by Ben 10 alienfucking anon, but I gotta agree with the basic idea of looking back on childhood favorites and just saying

"...Ooooohhhh...Cool."

I have a lot of similar personal cases.

Some standard ones like Frankie Foster making a generation super horny for tight black dresses and chokers, or Saria giving Zelda fans some hesvy love for the childhood friend thing. The one that sticks out in my head from the same game really hard though...

Zora Princess Ruto

She did some shit to my dumb baby brain that maybe wouldn't be seen on that scale again until Undyne came along and awakened some fish dicks.

I was either 8, 9, or 10 when I played Ocarina of Time. I got on the N64 hypetrain late since I got the SNES console gaming introduction after the later rounder redesign model was out.

Had some fun starts from some classics. Donkey Kong Country 2, Kirby Super Star, Super Mario World/Kart, the usual cool shit.

But later on, when my mom's boyfriend at the time was cool about showing me some SNES and N64 gaming (He ended up being a cheating alcoholic asshole, but I didn't know that yet, so I just took him at face value here)

He'd entertain my silly gawking and plot questions while he played and ended up lending some cool ones he never came back for (which I can't help but spitefully laugh at now) and they were all pretty fun, but obvious hood classic "The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past" was particularly great and led to some Discoveries(tm) later with Ocarina of Time.

I was super hyped about getting an N64 even if a year or two late to the party. Got some staples of the time that came with it of course. The obligatory classic games, Super Mario 64, Smash Bros., and obviously OoT, some bulky unwieldy third party controllers, some slightly better than the official monstrosity, some worse, and somehow most importantly here, Nintendo Power or Game Informer or whatever paper stuff that had strategy guides with cool pictures and stuff.

Prefacing a bit here: I was a single mom's baby, my dad walked out when my sister was 3 and I was like 0.4, so our house didn't have the dad porn stash to find. There was other stuff, some Victoria's Secret ads, my kinda hot single fifth grade teacher who seemed so weirdly fixated on gushing about how cute I was that it brings up some uncomfortable implications I can't confirm now, but also basic shit like strategy guides, gaming mags, and manuals with neat illustrations.

And somehow with all that, the last option just struck first with sifting through to find tits out post-timeskip fishwife Ruto, and at that point I really couldn't not fuck around and/or find out.

So I felt some things, started the playthrough and got up to Jabu-Jabu's Belly. And hoo boy, I was sexually curious already, but her actual in-game personality just DID things to me.

The tsundere shtick got a little worn out later, but the bitchy spiteful attitude to marriage promise 180 pipeline, the love for blue colored characters that could fill a Bible thick DSM, and her overall character arc just ruined me as a person in a way I find really hot.

Yes, I was into the kid version at the time too, but I was basically the same age as her in-game, don't overthink it.

So if the childhood marriage promise thing hadn't hit hard enough, the Water Temple hit so much harder by the end.

Adult Ruto tits out fish lady fucking hotwired my dormant libido and drove that shit 0 to 150 mph into the sunset. After the infamously confusing dungeon crawl and the disappointingly easy Morpha fight, that sealed it in the Sacred Realm jail hard for me, and unlike Ganon breaking out easy peasy like a Batman villain, I was not going anywhere.

Soon as I figured some stuff out playing in the shower and making up for spacing out in early proto-sex ed talks, it was just gonna happen.

I grabbed the nearest Nintendo Power or manual etc in one hand, my dick in the other and went to town, left for Zora's Domain, and never really left from there, cause I just started jackhammering my dick til it got sore and came whatever buckets I had at the time staring at Big Blue Titty Fish.

Everyone who played it knew the drill and had their personal favorites in the Link brothel. Zelda, Shiek, Saria, Malon (more potent after the older Majora's Mask counterpart), the Cucco lady (same deal with Anju), Darunia for the gay bar crowd probably, Impa, Nabooru, and my obvs by now favorite:

Ruto.

And for a lot of shortcomings and gripes I had with Majora's Mask, I didn't actually mind her getting clothed. I missed the titty out look for a little, but the dress was cute, the Zora band gang was particularly cool and interesting to me, and even though the Great Bay Temple doubled down on the Water Temple's problems, I still enjoyed the third Mask hunt pretty well and thought the band idea was really awesome and probably low-key inspired some of my interests in making music later.

And dressed or not, the fish wife love held really strong.

Saria gave people some weird feelings about The Friend Zone, Cremia gave people some extra love for titty hug motorboats, and Ruto cemented my love of blue girls and fish girls of any cup size, and she all-around gave me some lasting complexes for years to come.

Not for everyone, but my older sister used to watch me play Majora's Mask and comment on how horny she got about Zora mask Link, so it might just be for more people than I thought.

Undyne has some strong dom lesbian appeal that fed some stuff I already had brewing about strong ladies by the time Undertale hit, but for me, the bitchy to lovingly clingy fish wife will hold a special place as my first true furry/scaly/monsterfucking-adjacent experience.

Undyne could suplex me into dust and I'd still be really into that, but Ruto was THE og Blue-coded fictional crush that defined a lot of weird boners for me that can still be felt over half-mast today. (Don't ever ask me about my thoughts on Ranni the Witch, that question is turning the safety off a loaded gun and deepthroating it) (I love her and it's positive, I'm just exaggerating to say how annoying I will inevitably get about it)

Anyway, point is I fucking love clingy fish tsundere and if there was a canon choice for everyone's dumb elf-eared heart, for my heart's canon, that was her.

That was Ruto <3

.

[ligayangdala]

📣 JOHNNY SUH. angst | non-idol!au

✍️ written in taglish | ⚠️ separated parents, child experiencing doubts, profanities | 📅 posted on june 12, 2023 | may be triggering for others, please read at your own risk. | 📨 requested by an anon huehue pasensya na agad kung angst ang unang lapag ngayong buwan, matagal na to naka-tengga sa drafts kaya sorry anon :< specifically ni-request 'to as mini-series pero let us know what you guys think!

🎧 LISTEN: glimpse of us by joji

“MOMMY, SAAN NA PO SI DADDY?”

tanong ng 5-year-old mong anak na si eleanor–ellie kung tawagin niyo ni johnny. “i’ve been waiting for him since kanina pa po, where is he?”

napabuntong hininga ka at tumigil sa pagtatype. ang hirap balansehin ng pagiging boss at nanay minsan, pero wala kang magagawa dahil pinili mo rin naman ‘to at kailangan mong gampanan ang parehong trabaho. tinext mo na si johnny kanina, mag-iisang oras na rin simula nung nagreply siya na malapit na siya at dalawang oras simula nung sinabi niyang nakalapag na ang eroplano niya. hindi naman ganun kalayo ang tinitirhan niyang apartment, pero busy rin kasi ito madalas.

umupo ka sa tabi ni ellie, sinuklay ang buhok nito para kumalma ng kaunti ang bata. “he’s on his way na daw, baby eh. onting wait na lang, okay? dadating rin si daddy mo.” sabi mo sakanya at niyakap siya ng mahigpit, “ellie, one month mo ring hindi nakita si daddy mo because he’s on a business trip. promise, anak, onting wait na lang at dadating rin si daddy.”

“does… does he not love me anymore, mommy?”

it broke your heart seeing your only daughter this way, wala ka namang magawa dahil hindi mo kontrolado ang schedule ni johnny at ang takbo ng buhay nito. naiinis ka kasi ang bata bata pa ni ellie para mag-isip ng ganito at napapaisip ka na sobrang naapektuhan ang bata sa sitwasyon niyo ng tatay niya.

“ellie, love na love ka ni daddy. pati ako, love na love ka. please don’t think na we don’t love you because we’re busy most of the time. busy si mommy and daddy because nagwowork kami para mabili namin yung needs and wants mo, anak.” paliwanag mo kay ellie, “okay, how about… pagbalik mo from daddy’s place, alis tayo. tayong dalawa lang, girls day? what do you think?”

ellie sniffed and nodded her head, “...okay mommy.”

“baby, please don’t cry na. i promise, dadating na si daddy soon.”

ilang minuto mo ring yakap-yakap ang anak mo, hindi mo na napansin na nakatulog na siya kaya inayos mo ang pwesto niya sa sofa at kinumutan. eleanor suh looks exactly like her mother, sa korte ng labi at ilong, sa hulma ng mukha… ikaw na ikaw eh. hindi mo mahanap-hanap kung nasaan ang features ni johnny sa mukha ni ellie dahil carbon copy talaga mo talaga ang bata. kung ipagdidikit ang baby pictures niyon dalawa, alam mong sayo nagmana ang bata. nagtanim ka ng halik sa noo ni ellie bago bumalik sa kusina kung saan ang laptop mo at nagumpisa na ulit magtrabaho.

ilang oras ang lumipas, lumbog na ang araw at napalitan na ng dilim ang liwanag sa labas–wala pa rin si johnny. hindi mo alam kung nasaan siya, ni hindi nga siya makapag-reply sa messages mo ngayon. when ellie woke up, nagpalit na lang siya ng ibang damit na pambahay. excited pa naman siyang ipakita ang bago niyang damit sa tatay niya dahil alam niyang matutuwa si johnny kapag nakita niya ito. pagkatapos ng trabaho mo, nagluto ka at sabay kayong kumain ni ellie–hanggang sa nakapagtoothbrush at ready na matulog ulit ang anak mo, hindi dumating si johnny.

pabalik ka na sana sa kwarto mo pagkatapos mong maglinis ng pinagkainan niyo, nung narinig mong tumunog ang doorbell. alam mong si johnny na yun dahil sa sunod sunod nitong pag tunog. napabuntong hininga ka nalang at pumunta sa may pinto, huminga ng malalim bago ito buksan.

“i’m sorry,” sabi niya, “asan siya? galit ba?”

“ewan ko, johnny. hindi ko alam kung galit ba si ellie sayo.” sagot mo, umisod ka ng kaunti para makapasok siya sa loob. “tulog na si ellie, she was really excited to see you earlier pero she got her hopes a little too high and you’ve disappointed her. again.”

this wasn’t the first time that this happened, few times na nga. hindi mo na maiwasang hindi makaramdam ng galit.

“it’s not my fault that my meetings got extended. alam mo bang pagkalapag na pagkalapag ng eroplano ko akala ko didiretso na ako dito? hindi, kasi biglaan na namang niliko ng driver ko yung sasakyan papuntang opisina.” galit na sabi nito, siniringan mo na lang si johnny at naglakad papunta sa kwarto ni ellie.

“wag ka sakin mag-explain, johnny. hindi ako ang pinaghintay mo this time, si ellie. sanay na ko sayo.”

napatigil sa paglalakad si johnny, pati na rin ikaw pero hindi mo siya hinarap. alam mo kasing na-offend siya sa sinabi mo–lalo na’t alam niyang hanggang ngayon, dala-dala mo pa rin ang galit mo sa nangyari sa inyong dalawa.

“kasalanan ko bang demanding ang trabaho ko? i’m doing this for a living, to support ellie. what the fuck is wrong with that, y/n? i already said i’m sorry for being late.”

“hindi ka dapat nagsosorry sakin, johnny. kay ellie.” banat mo, “tapos at pagod na kong maghintay sayo, pero si ellie? wag mong gawin yung ginawa mo sakin sa anak ko–sa anak mo. it’s more than enough that i was the one who suffered first, that i was the one who experienced it firsthand. i wouldn’t let my daughter experience the same pain you’ve given me, suh.”

sasagot pa sana si johnny, pero bumukas ang pintuan ng kwarto ni ellie. nakatingin ang bata sa inyong dalawa, hawak-hawak ang paborito niyang stuffed toy at medyo magulo na ang buhok dahil sa tulog. 

“are you two fighting?”

“n-no, ellie. we were just… talking.” sagot mo, “do you still want to go to daddy’s place? we still have time to repack your bags naman, sabihin mo lang sakin.”

umiling si ellie, and that made johnny’s heart break pero hindi niya masisi ang bata kung bakit ayaw na rin niyang pumunta sa bahay niya. 

“ellie, sayang naman ang byahe ng daddy mo if hindi ka sasama sa kanya.” pakiusap mo, “remember what we talked about kanina? girls’ day pagbalik mo galing sa house ni daddy mo.”

“lagpas bedtime ko na po dumating si daddy eh,” sagot naman ni ellie.

lumuhod si johnny sa harap ni ellie, akmang yayakap sa anak pero umiwas ito. “ellie, i’m sorry.” sabi niya, “promise, last na to na malelate ako. i’ll arrive on time na next time, i promise.”

“no.”

sinara ni ellie ang pinto ng kwarto niya sa harap ng tatay niya, ikaw mismo hindi makapaniwala sa ginawa ni ellie dahil unang beses niya tong ginawa. hindi mo rin alam kung saan niya nakita o natutunan yun. si johnny naman, nakaluhod pa rin, hindi rin makapaniwala sa nangyari.

“i’ll talk to her. sa sala ka muna,” sabi mo bago kumatok sa kwarto ni ellie, tumango naman si johnny at tumayo na. “els? it’s mommy. pwede ba akong pumasok?”

“no, ayaw ko pong makita si daddy.”

napanbuntong hininga ka, “eleonor, it’s just me ang papasok. si mommy lang, daddy’s in the living room. can i please come in?”

ilang segundo lang at narinig mo ang paa niya na tumakbo papuntang pinto bago ito bumukas. pumasok ka na agad at sinara ito, “ellie, why did you say no to daddy?”

“because i heard you tell him he hurt you.” sagot ni ellie, hindi siya makatingin sayo at pinaglalaruan lang ang stuffed toy niya. “if daddy keeps going here and you keep seeing him, you will be in pain mommy. dito nalang po ako sayo. okay lang po na hindi ko po makita si daddy.”

how can a 5-year-old like ellie understand what’s happening between you and her father? na nasaktan ka ng tatay niya dati, na hindi maganda ang ending ng relasyon niyo? naiipit ang anak niyo sa sitwasyon niyong dalawa. ang aga pa para mapansin ni ellie to. isip mo. alam mo namang magiging cause ng trauma to ni ellie paglaki niya, as much as possible, gusto mong nakikita niya na parehong okay at civil kayo sa isa't isa ni johnny pero ang hirap kasi kung palaging mainit ang ulo niyo ni johnny sa isa't isa.

napaluha ka sa sinabi ni ellie, “mommy, are you crying because of me?”

“hindi, anak. it’s just…” you sighed, “i just love you so much and i want to protect you, and mommy is really sorry if you’re experiencing this kind of situation at a young age.”

ellie finally looked you in the eyes, “i love you, mommy.” 

and that’s when you realized ellie has her father’s eyes. those warm brown eyes that shine beautifully under the light, johnny na johnny.

“mommy?”

“yes, ellie?”

“pwede po bang pasabi kay daddy, sorry? can he come back tomorrow na lang po? i’m sleepy na po eh.”

you gave her a warm smile and nodded, “okay els, i'll talk to daddy.” sagot mo, at inayos si ellie sa kama niya. humalik ka sa noo niya, “sleep ka na, anak. sabihin ko kay daddy mo balik na lang siya. but baby, i think mas maa-appreciate ni daddy if ikaw mismo yung magsosorry sa kanya, so promise mommy na tomorrow, magsosorry ka sa kanya.”

“promise po.”

umalis ka na sa tabi ni ellie, pinatay ang ilaw at lumabas ng kwarto niya bago pumunta sa sala kung nasaan si johnny. tulala pa rin siya, hindi makapaniwala sa nangyari kanina. tinawag mo siya para mawala siya sa pagkakatulala at tinanong: “gusto mo ba ng something na inumin?” tumango si johnny at tumayo, sinundan ka sa kusina. nilapag mo ang dalawang wine glass sa coutertop kung saan siya banda nakaupo at nilagyan ito ng wine, pinot noir–ang paborito niya.

“thanks.”

the two of you quietly stayed in the kitchen, naghihintay lang kung sinong unang magsasalita. 

“so–” “ano–” sabay niyong sabi, sumignal nsman si johnny na mauna ka na daw magsalita.

“ellie says she's sorry,” sabi mo, “hindi daw muna siya sasama sayo ngayong gabi, she’s already sleep when she told me that. balikan mo na lang daw siya bukas.”

“oh…”

“don't worry, i told her to say sorry to you again. personally para naman maramdaman mong galing sakanya at hindi sakin.” you chuckled, “anyway, narinig niya kasi yung sinabi ko sayo. ano… i wanted to say na pwede bang maging civil na lang tayong dalawa ulit? na every time ellie is within earshot, wag tayong mag-away. you can hate me from the distance, i just don’t want ellie to hear us fighting kasi ayokong matrauma si ellie.”

“noted on that, but i think dapat mo ring i-apply yan sa sarili mo.”

hindi ka na ulit sumagot, at napalibutan na naman kayo ng katahimikan. walang nagsasalita hangga’t walang nagiinitiate ng conversation. 

“so, uh… late na rin. at ayokong malate ng punta bukas.” sabi ni johnny, “i should probably go.”

tumango ka nalang at sinamahan siyang maglakad hanggang sa pinto, walang paalam sa isa’t isa. sinara mo na ang pinto pagkalabas niya at huminga ng malalim

how did it end up like this? isip mo.

why do you hate the man you once loved, imagined a future with? and everytime you look at your daughter's eyes, you see a glimpse of your relationship with her father. 

CAUSE SOMETIMES I LOOK IN HER EYES, AND THAT’S WHERE I FIND A GLIMPSE OF US.

[meownotgood]

hi mags! big big fan of your work 🥹 i just wanted to ask a lil about how you went about starting to write fanfic n self ship stuff? i’ve been wanting to for a while now but the thought of actually posting it out of nowhere seems pretty daunting to me 😭

dearest anon... I understand how you feel...... but listen... the very first time you start posting fics and silly stuff, you'll probably feel nervous at first, but then it's super fun and freeing... when I first started posting fanfic, it was one of the most fun and happy times in my whole life. once I got over that initial fear of what people would think, and realized I could just be myself, I truly enjoyed every aspect of my silly postings. and I'll always look at that time fondly, even if my writing has improved since then!

we all have to start somewhere!! just do what you love, it's such a nice feeling. and I promise soon you won't be alone, you'll find others who love the same things..........

[scripts4dreamers]

Not Your Hero. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

AN: Whaaaaaaat? A chapter of a WIP? From me? Insanity

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan, James Karakus, Annie Cresta

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation 

Prompt/Inspiration: House in Nebraska - Ethel Cain

----------------------------------

While the games are on, no one ever really leaves the viewing room. Finnick knew that, all the mentors did, but for you this was a whole new experience. He watched you pace like a caged animal, stress eat from the neverending flow of food brought in by avoxes, and talk with James in a low voice whenever something happened. He knew for a fact that you didn’t sleep at all. Some of the others did, he did, but you just sat on the couch every night with your knees pulled up under your chin, staring at the screen.

Because of that, you watched Adam Donaldson die in real time on the second night. Finnick had stayed up with you, sitting in a shared and quiet vigil because, if he was honest, he’d seen it coming. Maybe you’d seen it too, because the first tear had slipped down your cheek before the careers had even noticed the smoke from Adam’s small campfire and made the connection. Finnick wished he could say it had been quick and painless, an arrow to the heart, a snapped neck. It wasn’t. It had been a slow day and Finnick knew better than anyone how those kids were trained, first and foremost, to entertain. He tried not to watch Annie, tried not to watch you watching Annie, reminded himself not to tell you that Annie was a good girl, really, that she was just doing as she was told. Compassion would come later, he promised himself, for now you were living one of the worst moments in a mentor’s life. You wouldn’t appreciate a spirited defense of your tribute’s killer.

It took the careers three full hours to finally put Adam Donaldson out of his misery, and you didn’t make a sound the entire time. You didn’t shift or move or eat. You barely blinked. Adam screamed and bled and died, and Finnick watched you bear it, adding another lost life to the list of sins you could never really really be forgiven for. A few mentors tried to stop by and comfort you but you brushed them off or snapped for them to leave you alone, like an animal in a trap. Finnick was the only person who was spared your annoyance so he held your hand and didn’t let go. He didn’t try and tell you that it wasn’t your fault, he knew you wouldn’t have listened. Instead, he just promised that it would be over soon. Just hang on, he whispered again and again, just hold on for a little longer and then it’ll be over. If nothing else, it would be over.

When the dust settled and the remaining body fragments had been collected, Finnick had watched something in you deflate and his heart pinched. He knew that moment, the pain, the guilt, the relief. You’d made it through. You’d gritted your teeth and made it through.

“First one’s the hardest,” Haymitch had slurred, shocking Finnick, who hadn’t thought Haymitch had even noticed what was happening, “Gets easier,” he shrugged, “or so they keep telling me.”

You gave him a look, as though you were weighing up the benefits of biting his head off, but eventually you just nodded, “Thanks, Haymitch.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied, “I didn’t say it gets bearable.”

Finnick felt a rush of protectiveness sweep over him, but he forced himself to just stay at your side until you assured him that you would be alright, and then he allowed himself a rest. You returned to your pattern. You watched the male tribute from Four get beheaded by a rival a few days later, watched Serena slip away into the darkness, clutching a bleeding shoulder that wouldn’t heal, watched Annie’s psyche start to crack as she isolated herself and cradled the air, imagining it was her partner’s bloody body. And you told it all to Finnick each morning in a dull, monotone voice, the bags under your eyes getting darker and darker with each passing day. He wanted to help. He wished that there was something he could say or do to help you deal with the grief, but he couldn’t. He had to focus, to keep his eye on the end point and, right now, he had other things on his mind.

Annie was AWOL.

Losing Ajack had broken something inside of her. You’d told him the whole story; about how he’d gotten into an argument with the boy from District one, how they’d pushed and shoved at one another until the boy from one had picked up an ax and ended it, hacking at Ajack’s neck while his partner held Annie back. Apparently she’d screamed at the boy to stop, begged him even, and after Ajack’s head had been completely severed, she’d held his body for so long that the hovercraft hadn’t been able to collect it until the early hours of the morning. After that, she’d vanished, disappearing into the bush without any supplies. Whenever the camera found her now, she was muttering to herself, or fiddling with her fingers, or staring out into space like she wasn’t there anymore.

Finnick had never felt more helpless. He’d chewed his nails down to the beds, and used every tool of persuasion in his arsenal to keep sponsors from pulling out. He supplied Annie with food and water, with sleeping gear and climbing supplies. None of it had helped. Now, as he clung to the very edges of his sanity and wracked his brain, he had to admit: he was out of tricks. There was nothing else he could do. The sponsors had pulled out in favor of the pair from district one; Annie had no weapons and, even if she did, she was in no fit state to use them and, worst of all, it had been nearly two days since the last gruesome death. That usually meant one thing; the crowd would be getting antsy and the gamemakers would be planning something awful. He watched Annie’s lifeless body on the screen as she twitched and muttered in her sleep, his heart twisting into painful knots.

“Finnick!” Annie screeched, giggling as she scrambled up the rocks and away from his attacks, “Stop! I don’t want to get wet.”

“Why?” he laughed, pushing up off the ocean floor and letting himself float on his back.

The cool water lapped against his temples, filling his ears and cradling his body in its strong, reliable arms. He loved the water, lived for it. There was nowhere that he felt more at home, or more like himself than when he could taste saltwater on his lips and feel sand on his skin. His stomach churned with anxiety and a mixture of fear and anticipation, but he breathed in deep, filling his lungs with bright sunlight and the smell of warm ocean rocks and let the rocking of the waves soothe him.

Annie was perched on the rocks like a seabird, her long dark hair swirling and tangling in the wind as she watched him swim, a kind of quiet longing in her eyes. Not for Finnick himself of course, but for his comfort, for his ease in the ocean. Annie was terrified of the sea, she always had been. She was a strong swimmer, as all the kids in district four were, but she’d never trusted it, never truly believed that it could carry her and support her weight. She always felt, privately, in the back of her mind, that it was just waiting to drag her under, to a dark watery grave. Finnick opened one eye and gave her, what he hoped was, a confident smile.

“Like what you see, Cresta?” he joked

She scoffed, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks, “You wish.” she paused, worrying at the inside of her cheek, “How are you never nervous? It’s reaping day, and you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

Finnick pushed forward, tipping into a steady tread, and shrugged, “Nothing to be nervous about. We’re fourteen, Annie, it’s not going to be us.”

“It might be,” she argued, “York said that none of the older kids are volunteering this year.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

Annie shrugged, “They just aren’t.”

“But they have to.” He insisted, “That’s the rules.”

“We haven’t won in years,” Annie reminded him, “I think they’re just sick of volunteering to die.”

Finnick pressed his lips together, feeling the cold hand of dread creeping into his chest again. No volunteers? That was unheard of. What would happen now? A normal reaping? Could anyone be picked now? Could he be picked? He met Annie’s eye and saw his own terror reflected there in vibrant sea green.

“It won’t be us, Annie,” he assured her, hoping that he sounded more confident than he was, “I promise you, it won’t be us.”

Finnick’s eyes started to sting and he swore softly under his breath, burying his head in his hands and carding his fingers through his hair. It felt like his heart was shattering piece by piece and dragging him down into the depths along with it. Out of the corner of his eye Finnick saw a familiar shadow and, despite everything, some of the tension in his shoulders relaxed. You collapsed onto the couch beside him, reaching out and resting a hand on his back comfortingly. God, he hated how good that felt. He hated how he longed to lean into your touch, to bury his head in the crook of your neck and weep like the broken boy he was. I’m just a kid! He wanted to scream, I can’t do this! I can’t do this anymore!

“I know, Fin,” you whispered, as though you could read his mind, “you’re doing so well.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and he shook his head frantically, “Annie’s screwed. The sponsor’s are gone, she’s barely eating. There’s nothing I can do to save her.”

You were quiet for a moment, “There’s never anything we can do, really. It’s always just a big gamble.”

“I know but-”

“And you aren’t out of sponsors. I spoke to my guys and they’re going to back Annie since-” You pressed your lips together, “since Adam’s gone and Serena-well-she’s not going to be able to hold on much longer.”

Finnick’s head shot up, a mixture of relief and incredulousness filling him so suddenly that he wasn’t even sure he’d heard you right.

“What? Y/N, no-I can’t accept that.”

You shrugged, a hint of a sad smile at the corner of your mouth, “Good thing you don’t have a say then. Take the help, Finnick. If not for you, then for Annie. She needs you on top of your game right now.”

He remembered the way Adam had called for his mother, how you’d flinched as each slow, deliberate cut had chipped away at the person he’d been until there was only a bloody corpse. Annie had been a part of that but, looking at you now, it didn’t seem to matter.

He shook his head again, the momentary relief being swallowed up again by hopelessness, “She can’t win. She can’t even seem to walk in a straight line right now.”

For a long moment you just watched the screen together, two victors acting in perfect synchronicity. You watched the pair from district one slice through the underbrush like demigods, looking powerful and determined and painfully self-assured. Smart money was on them, anyone could see that. They had everything on their side; all the training, all the sponsors, all the gear and, most dangerously, that deadly team mentality that would keep them together until it stopped serving them. Finnick knew how powerful that bond could be, it had kept him alive more than once during his games and his every instinct told him it would get this pair through it too. However, as useful as weapons, sponsors, food and allies were, you’d had none of that. You’d been alone from the moment you were reaped. You had no skills, no real buzz, no friends. No one had given you more than half a look in the Capitol, and you’d come out on top anyway. The thought gave Finnick hope. Maybe Annie wasn’t completely screwed. Maybe, with you by his side, Finnick could still find a way to bring her home.

---------------------------------

No one had really believed Annie Cresta had a shot. Not James, not Chaff, not Brutus, not Seeder, not even Mags really. When Ajack had died, every reliable metric in the book had said that district four’s hopes of having a winner on their hands had died with him. But every reliable metric in the book had also had you pegged as an early death, so you said fuck the metrics, and believed in her anyway. The more you felt Finnick give up, the harder you believed. The more other mentors started to gently suggest that you let her go and move on, the more vehemently you insisted that she wasn’t out of the game yet and redoubled your efforts. At some point over the past few days, possibly when she’d gone against her team and given Adam the death he’d long since earned, Annie Cresta had started to mean something to you.

She was every discounted tribute, every long shot who got written off and left to die. She was you, and she was the tributes you’d already failed to save and, maybe, if you could find a way to bring her home, you would be able to live with yourself for letting Adam and Serena die. Serena’s arm was infected now, badly. Experts said she had maybe three days of agony in front of her and there was nothing you could do to save her. But Annie was healthy. Some part of her mind had gotten her to eat and drink, she wasn’t physically injured, and a lifetime of having enough to eat gave her stamina.

She could win, and she would, you told yourself again and again. She had to.

You told Finnick too, and when you did some of his old sparkle would threaten to rear its head and he would almost smile. Almost. It never lasted. He slipped in and out, between resigned, grieving and unimaginably tense. Sometimes, you had the sneaking suspicion that your hand between his shoulder blades was all that was keeping him anchored to this reality. So you kept it there, and you fed him bits of biscuits and sandwiches, got him to drink water, shower and sleep, and you wondered how long he would last, and what would be left of him if Annie didn’t make it out.

Selfishly, unforgivably, a part of you wondered if he was in love with her. You would never ask, of course. It wasn’t your business, it wasn’t the right time, but you couldn’t stop the wondering. Was Annie the one who Finnick lay in bed pining for? Was she the woman he daydreamed about and had planned a future with? Did it bother you if she was? Always, it came back to the same single fact; it didn’t matter. You wanted Finnick to be happy, and you needed Annie to come home. That was that.

Some days you were so close to the edge that it was only the memory of Finnick’s voice in your head that kept you from crumbling.

Just hold on, he’d whispered, you’re so strong, you can do this, it’ll all be over soon. It was like a mantra now, more than a prayer, a promise that this too would pass. There would be time to fall apart, time to grieve, just not yet. First you had to get through, and get Annie through.

You spent your 17th birthday throwing a massive party for potential sponsors. It was the event of the season, the magazines exclaimed, absolutely anyone who was anyone was invited. Finnick and Mags weren’t there, a few noted, but that was to be expected this far into the games. Your prep team hid the signs of exhaustion under layers of makeup and pressed fake finger nails over your chewed ones. Your stylist pulled you into a tight, revealing outfit that, months ago, you would have been too self conscious to wear out, strapped you into some heels and you were ready. The music was loud, the press was there and the party lasted all night. You let the tv crews interview you, you gushed about the Capitol, choking down disgust. You danced with those victors who had come in support of you, and you flirted and teased your way to raising enough money to buy Annie some iodine for her drinking water.

Back at the control center, after you had scrubbed off the remnants of the powders and creams and sickly sweet perfumes and slipped into something more comfortable, Chaff brought you a cake shaped like a lightning bolt. James took responsibility for all the presents the other victors, and your various admirers, had lavished you with. You and Finnick ate pieces of cake together on the couch, sighing with relief as Annie successfully treated her water and took her first long drink in two days. You didn’t think about your last birthday.

After Chaff and James had led everyone in a genuinely enthusiastic bout of “Happy Birthday”, Finnick nudged you with his arm, tearing your attention away from the screens, where the pair from one were hot on the trail of the boy from nine.

“Happy birthday, Y/N/N,” he said softly, his deep green eyes sparkling with something so sweet it made your teeth ache, “I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you interrupted feeling, with certainty, that he was going to apologize for not being with you in the sponsor pit, “there’s more important things right now.”

Finnick smiled with a fondness that had you feeling uncomfortably found out, and he strung an arm around you loosely, turning both of your bodies so you were facing each other. It was the first time you’d seen him look fully away from the screens and monitors in days.

“I was going to say that I’m…I’m glad we met,” he explained, “and that I hope, for your next birthday, we can do something a little less morbid.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling oddly touched, and tried not to think about how, for that to happen, both of your tributes next year would have to be dead.

“Thanks, Finn,” you said instead, “I’m glad we met too.”

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles gently, sending a tingle of electricity through your entire body as he pressed a small gift into your palm.

“For later,” he explained, as you examined the parcel.

You nodded in understanding, slipped the parcel into your bag and, again acting with the perfect synchronicity of two people with identical goals, you both turned back to your monitors to watch for signs of trouble.

Two weeks into the games, after everyone had written her off, you knew Annie had won. It happened quickly, a few days of rain, some flooding and a crack. The dam seemed as though it fell in slow motion and, in mere moments, all the perfectly laid plans Cashmere and Gloss had been working on all season fell to ruin. Serena barely stirred as the wave crashed down on her, by all accounts she died in her sleep and you counted it as a mercy.

The gamemakers slowed the wave, so it didn’t flatten the competition entirely but, by nightfall, even those who could swim were starting to struggle. The beautiful arena was now entirely flooded and Annie was swimming. Not paddling around, not hanging on for dear life. Instead, for the first time since Ajack’s death, she was virtually coming to life. She gilded through the water like a sea otter, evading the other tributes with ease and finding safe areas to rest away from the dangerous currents and undertow.

“She’s going to make it,” Finnick said incredulously, “Oh my god, Y/N, she’s going to make it.”

You nodded, “Hell yeah she is.”

A few stragglers held on for a while but, after another two days, Annie Cresta was airlifted out of the drowned arena, the official victor of the 70th Hunger Games. When the final canon sounded you couldn’t contain the sound of relief and excitement that slipped past your lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. It was like watching a dream play out in real life. When you looked at the screen you saw yourself, felt the momentary rush of terror followed by pure ecstasy as you realised that the impossible had happened: you had won, you were going home.

She had won. She was coming home.

If you were happy, Finnick was joy personified. He leapt to his feet and cheered, laughing with the unrestrained incredulousness of someone who had been well and truly hopeless for ages. You smiled up at him as he watched the screen hungrily seeing, for a moment, his youth written on his body like a sign. It was easy to forget sometimes that he was only eighteen. It was easy to forget that you yourself were only technically an adult with how old and world weary you already felt. You tore your eyes away from Finnick and let them fall on Mags who was weeping silently, a wrinkled hand pressed to the base of her throat as she smiled. She caught your eye and extended her free hand for you to take. You gave it a squeeze and you hoped she could feel your sincerity, how truly happy for district four you were. A year after you had personally ripped their chances away, they were bringing home a win. It felt almost fair.

“I didn’t think I would see another win,” she explained to you softly, “not in my lifetime. I didn’t think I would get to bring another one home.”

“But you did,” you said, looking back at Finnick, “you did it.”

Mags shook her head, giving your hand another squeeze, “You did it, the both of you. Finnick is a wonderful mentor, but even he couldn’t have gotten any more help to her without your sponsors. I won’t forget that.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I won’t forget that,” she repeated, “and I’ll make sure he never does either.” she finished, gesturing at Finnick with her head.

At that exact moment Finnick seemed to remember your existence and he turned back, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around like a carousel.

“We did it!” He laughed, “We did it, Y/N, we did it!”

“We did,” you agreed, laughing fondly as you detangled yourself.

For the briefest moment when you broke the contact Finnick seemed crestfallen, but it was over so quickly, swallowed up by his happiness, that you almost thought you must have imagined it. He pulled Mags into a similar embrace, whispering something to her too low for anyone but Mags to hear before looking back at you.

“You and me, Y/N/N, we fucking did it!”

You heard Adam’s voice in your head, saw him strain at the restraints on his wrists as he was tortured and jeered at. His sister had watched that. Sweet, kind Genna, who laughed a little too loudly and never quite knew when to stop being friendly, had watched her older brother get systematically and clinically taken apart and she would probably never be herself again now. Serena had been just kid, she hadn’t even started high school yet. She died after days of agony, with a raging fever. Her father had wept when she was reaped. They had been yours, and you’d been less than useless to them. Suddenly you were so tired, so drained. How many days had it been since you slept? The fragile pieces of you were cracking under the strain. James caught your eye, the corners of his mouth tense with suppressed grief. You don’t know what you were looking for really. Not comfort, not saving, maybe an acknowledgement? The shared recognition that something had happened, something had been lost here.

“You lot better get ready,” James said to Finnick and Mags, coming to your rescue, the way he was wont to do, “Annie is going to need you both. You don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.”

Finnick looked like he wanted to argue, but a brief word from Mags seemed to remind him where he was. He shot you and your mentor an apologetic look, but you could still see the shimmering, bubbling excitement just under the surface, ready to burst forward at any second.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, “both of you. Just-” he breathed, letting out a burst of relieved laughter, “thank you so much.”

You felt James’ hand on your shoulder, a rough but familiar anchor to reality and you gave Finnick a genuine smile. Just a little longer, you heard him whisper in your mind, just keep it together for a little longer.

“Of course,” James said, speaking for you both, “it’s the least we could do.”

That was a lie, but you all knew it, so it couldn’t hurt anyone.

“I’m so happy for you,” you said, “truly.”

Some of Finnick’s franticness seemed to seep out of him into something softer and fonder and you watched, in real time, as he remembered where you were, what you’d lost, what you’d been through.

“Y/N-” he started, moving as though to step toward you.

Your eyes were pricking now, the suppressed panic and rage rearing its head so powerfully that you were almost frightened of yourself. James tightened his grip on your shoulder and, in one fluid motion, moved subtly between you and Finnick, angling his body in such a way as to not be obvious but still clearly making himself a barrier. Finnick recoiled, a flash of hurt crossing his perfectly sculpted face. You wanted to assure him, your instinct was to reach out and promise that you were fine, that he’d done nothing wrong, that of course you wanted to stay and be with him and Mags, but you were just so fragile. James felt like a lifeline, like your protector, swooping in and delivering you from the private hell you’d been living in and, if you were honest, there was nothing you wanted more than to fall apart in private.

Mags tracked the interaction with her eyes, tugging Finnick’s arm gently as he stared James down.

“Come, boy,” she said soothingly, “Annie will be waiting.”

Finnick gave you one last deeply apologetic look, and then nodded, letting Mags pull him away. James didn’t move. He stayed where he was, waiting until every last mentor, even drunk old Haymitch Abernathy, had slipped out of the control center before he stepped forward and crouched down in front of you.

His face was creased with concern, his dark eyes filled with the deep understanding that only someone who had personally put you back together more than once could ever have, and you absolutely shattered. In moments you had collapsed into a fit of broken sobbing, keening like a wounded animal as weeks of pent up anxiety and fear rushed out at once. To his credit, James didn’t try to calm you down, he just let you cry. He’d always been wonderful at knowing what you needed, how to get you through the pain without smothering you or talking down to you. Even before you were a victor. Even when you were just a scared fifteen year old girl who’d been handed a death sentence.

It felt like you stayed there for an eon, working through every last drop of resentment and disappointment in yourself until there was nothing left but a sort of deep, throbbing ache.

“I am happy for them,” you eventually said, voice shaky through your tears, “r-really I a-am.”

“I know,” James assured you kindly, “I know, but you can be happy for them and furious for us at the same time. I know they were when you won last year.”

You nodded, feeling the first slivers of solid ground beneath your feet again as you wiped your face and took deep, steadying breaths.

“Did you cheer and twirl people around too?” you asked, trying for a joking tone and almost succeeding.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, “you bet I did. I was fist pumping the air and shouting like a maniac, I thought Finnick was going to swing on me. I think I threw a chair.”

“What?” you laughed incredulously, “You did not.”

“I’m pretty sure I did,” James insisted, “Y/N/N I was so proud of you. I cried like a baby for days.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes again, welcoming the change of topic, “You did?”

He nodded, giving you another fond look and giving your shoulder a squeeze, “You were amazing, you did everything right, made good on every opportunity. I did my job, I set things up but you just…” he shook his head, whistling, “you just ran with it. I’ve been doing this for twenty-three years and I’ve never seen anyone come close to the upset you pulled off.”

You felt something that could have been pride, a stubborn urge to take some pleasure in your win, before the sadness won out again and your lip began to tremble.

“Fat lot of good it did them,” you said, “fat lot of good I did them.”

James sighed, “That’s what I’m trying to say here, there’s nothing you could have done. You made it out because you played smart, you fought hard, you kept your wits about you and you clawed your way to the top, not because I did something to get you out.”

“I had sponsors.”

“Not at first,” James admitted, “not enough, not nearly enough. You convinced more people to put their money behind Adam from the start than I’d managed to rustle up for you. At the end of the day the money means jack shit, there’s only so much we can do.”

“I told them to shift their pledge to Annie,” you whispered, Serena’s shaking body flashing behind your eyes like snippets of film, “I could have poured more into Serena. I told them not to, I told them to sign with Finnick and-”

“And Annie won.” he reminded you kindly, “Those rich idiots will blame you for their massive payouts and they’ll trust you implicitly now. How many more kids will you be able to help with their money in the coming years, hmm? The handful of die hard rich people we still had available to us couldn’t have raised the funds to save Serena from that infection, Ash, you know that.”

“I could’ve done something! I could’ve-”

He shook his head, “No, you couldn’t have. Listen, whatever you think you could’ve done, I’ve tried it. I’ve tortured myself with what-ifs for longer than you’ve been alive, they never work. Trust me, you did everything right.”

You tried your hardest to listen, to really take in what James was saying like he was offering you a balm for your aching heart, but the pain just sat there in your chest, stubbornly refusing to dull.

You felt your eyes start to prick again and you longed for home, for your mother’s embrace and the safety of your room.

“Then why does it hurt so much?” You cried, collapsing into James’ chest again as you devolved into a fresh bout of sobs.

James doesn’t have an answer for that, so he just held you close and tried to be as comforting as he possibly could be. James’ feelings for you were….surprising, to him at least. When he’d turned thirty-nine he’d joked to Ivette that the only thing he wanted for his fortieth was to make one return journey to the district with a living person. Just one, he’d laughed with an edge of franticness, he wasn’t asking for the plethora of success stories the mentors from some of the other districts had, he just wanted one.

It had been a joke, mostly, but here you were. When he’d first met you on the train after the reaping, there’d been a sort of ache in the back of his teeth, like the ghosts of the countless hours spent biting down on his jaw were finally coming back to haunt him. You were so young, he remembers thinking, not yet sixteen and already doomed to die. Only…there was something about you, something in your eyes that felt like defiance. It felt like anger, like the will to live. James had looked at you on the train and had seen himself, but even that hadn’t been enough to override his deep dread. He’d lost too many to have any real hope for your survival. At most, he hoped you would die quickly, and without suffering.

He still did his job, of course. He smiled, he made contacts with possible sponsors, liaised with stylists and publicists, he gave you advice on how to play smart, and he mapped out a place along his spine to tattoo your name, alongside the nearly forty others he carried with him, when you died. Unfortunately, as the big day came closer, James had gotten sort of fond of you. You were funny and smart, and you had a sharp tongue that made him laugh incessantly, but that also spoke to how personable you could be. Your interview had been a smash hit. You had an instinctual knack for grabbing an audience’s attention and holding it. For the first time in decades, James had felt something resembling hope, but he crushed it down. He reminded himself that there was only so much he could do, that personability wasn’t enough. He’d settled down and re-resigned himself to watching you die and delivering you home in a box.

The games started and when you made it through the first day, and the second, and the third, that damn spark of hope had come back in full force. It was small, he tried to temper it but when, on the fourth day, you’d managed to literally tear your way out of a net with a combination of your hands and teeth, and had successfully rewired the trap to spring up and capture your original capturer, he’d known that you could win. James had never worked the sponsor circuit that hard. He barely slept, he did anything and everything he could to get you whatever you needed; medicine for your bloody hands, food, some wire and, eventually, a current generator. He’d poured twenty-two years of dashed hopes and dreams into you, broken every carefully cultivated rule he’d ever set for himself about not getting attached and, when Claudius Templesmith announced that you were the winner of the sixty-ninth annual Hunger Games, he had wept like a baby and cheered until his voice was hoarse. Just two months shy of his fortieth birthday, James had gotten to make his return journey with you by his side, broken, battered and scarred, but alive.

Afterwards, James couldn’t quite shake his feelings of responsibility for you. He was still your mentor and you were still his tribute, and now the game he was determined to get you through was just life, the After of it all. He had never been able to bring himself to find a nice man and settle down or to have some kids of his own, but if he had, he imagined he might feel about them the way he felt about you. So this, sitting with you in his arms while you fell to pieces…well, it hurt pretty damn bad.

“Y/N/N,” he said gently, when your body had stopped heaving and your violent sobs had softened and faded, “let’s get you home, yeah?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes with the heel of your palm, and James couldn’t help but see your youth. You were a couple of days past 17, practically a baby in his eyes, and already the kind of tired that most adults don’t get until their mid-forties. You knew too much, you’d seen too many horrors and carried too much grief to ever be carefree, the way a 17 year-old should be and, for the millionth time, James felt the rush of pure, black rage bubble up in his stomach. He would tear the Capitol down for this, he promised himself. Not today. Not now, when Snow could take revenge for anything James did out on you and Ivette, but someday. Someday he would find a spark and he’d do what he did best, what had gotten him in that victor’s chair in the first place; he’d stoke it into a blaze, an inferno that would burn out the infection of the Hunger Games for good.

You let your mentor pull you up and walk you back to your apartments, now empty of tributes, and you clung to him like a child, wondering why you could so easily let yourself be held by him, but not by your own parents. Some small part of you wondered if this is how it started, if all those lonely victors you’d met, who had no one but each other, had once had family and friends who they couldn’t bear to be around anymore because they reminded them too much of a version of themselves that was long dead. It felt different, you noticed, as you and James sat down for dinner at an empty table. Not bad, just different, knowing that, on every floor but one, someone like you, with more scars than they deserved, was sitting down to dinner in an equally vacant apartment. Everyone had failed except Mags and Finnick. It should have felt depressing and morbid, and it was, but it was also a kind of solidarity. You weren’t suffering alone. The Capitol had done this to all of you, together and, in a way, that meant none of you were alone. Maybe this was your new home, maybe this was what you got now.

You waited until you were alone in your room to open Finnick’s present. It was small, about the size of a plum, wrapped in soft blue paper and twine. It looked too rustic for the Capitol, you noted with a sudden rush of warmth, as though he’d brought it from home just for you. Slowly, being careful not to tear the wrapping paper, you peeled it open, revealing a beautiful spiral shell, cleaned and polished, and woven bracelet. It was a combination of brown leather, blue chord and flat pearls braided together carefully, with practice and skill. Finnick and Mags both wore similar bracelets, you’d seen them weaving them aimlessly whenever they got stressed, but this was different. This one had been made for you. It wasn’t flashy, or polished, but it fit your wrist perfectly and you knew that, if it was your choice, you’d wear it forever. Slowly, you pushed yourself up and made your way over to the phone, dialing the extension for the floor below you.

“Y/N,” Finnick said, without hesitation, on the third ring, “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I was so tactless, I-”

“What would you have done if I was James?” You interrupted, smiling despite yourself, “I could have been James, you know?”

Finnick paused and then laughed, his voice tinged with barely suppressed exhaustion, “But you’re not James, are you? You’re my-” he corrected himself, “you’re Y/N/N. Mags made me promise to give you some space, but I knew you’d call.”

You hummed in agreement, worrying at the inside of your cheek as the silence stretched, warm and comfortable, “How is she?” you eventually asked.

“Annie?” Finnick asked, “she’s…she’s alive. That’s all that matters.” he continued with a deep sigh, “Her mind is fragile right now, I’m not sure she understands what’s happened exactly, but…yeah.”

“It’s early days, Finn,” you replied instinctively, “you remember what it was like at the start. I’m sure you were a little fragile too. She’s been out of the arena for less than 5 hours, give her time.”

“I knew where I was,Y/N,” he countered ruefully, “I knew it was over, I knew I’d won.”

You sighed, “Give her time,” you repeated, “she’ll come back to you when she’s ready.”

“The doctors say she had a psychotic break,” Finnick said, his voice small and vulnerable, “they say she might not ever…that she might always be…”

“She’s alive,” you interrupted, reminding him of his earlier words, “you’ve got the rest of your lives to figure out how to move forward from this, and yeah maybe she’ll always be a little fragile. That’s alright, we’ll take care of her when she needs us to.”

“We will?” Finnick asked hopefully.

“Of course we will,” you insisted, “you, me, Mags, Chaff, James, even Haymitch. We’re all here for you, and for her.”

“I’m sure Haymitch has some thoughts about that,” Finnick replied, jokingly.

You smiled, “Yeah well, he’ll have to take it up with me if he does.”

“Terrifying,” Finnick said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. Again, you sat in silence, just enjoying the sound of one another’s breathing, before Finnick continued, “ Did you open your present?”

You looked down at the bracelet, “Of course I did. Thank you, by the way, it’s beautiful.”

“Pretty bracelet for a pretty girl, what can I say? Just made sense,” Finnick joked, slipping into his old seductive persona, which pulled a breathless laugh from your chest. You could imagine the catlike grin on his face as he lounged against the wall, all faux grace and elegance, the picture of destructive beauty. “But really, you like it?” he asked in his regular voice.

“I love it,” you promised.

There was a pause on the line, and then Finnick let out a shaky breath. You could feel the exhaustion in your own body catching up to you again, the weeks of staying awake using expensive Capitol medication finally coming for their due.

“I-uh-I need some sleep,” you explained, “I’ll see you soon, Finn.”

“See you soon, kid,” he replied, “and thank you again for-”

“Stop thanking me,” you insisted, fondly, “and don’t call me kid.”

You hung up before you had a chance to change your mind and, as you lay down in your bed and drifted off to sleep, the ghosts of the veldt crept in, joined by two new faces; a tall, lanky boy with a sister who laughed too loud, and a young girl, clutching an infected shoulder, writhing with fever.

—

Finnick stared at the phone for a long time after you hung up, trying to parse his emotions in a way that made sense. His heart was a complete wreck, torn between grief and joy and hope and, fuck it, why hide it, love. Annie was alive, but broken. You were safe, but exhausted. He had his family, but he had secrets, and he’d never be able to stop towing the line without risking losing it all again.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered into the empty air, covering his mouth with his hand.

Beetee had assured him that he’d blocked the audio bugs in the apartments, but old habits die hard, and Finnick wasn’t taking any chances. Not with this. Not with you. He ached for the feeling of your hand between his shoulder blades, the comforting weight that had kept him grounded for weeks and that he’d grown to rely on without even noticing it. You had a strange way of worming your way into him like that, like a drug. One hit and he was hooked for months, chasing more time, chasing more closeness.

“Finnick, dinner’s ready!” Mags called from the dining room, “The doctor sent us updated reports on Annie.”

“Coming!” He responded, casting one last look at the telephone as he left, adjusting the band of woven leather, chord and pearls on his wrist.

[air-rising]

Can you post the article??

Vriendin van Van de Donk eist dat Oranje wint voor haar 'Daan'

Girlfriend of Van de Donk demands that Orange win for her 'Daan'

[Ellie Carpenter en Daniëlle van de Donk leerden elkaar kennen bij Olympique Lyon, waar Damaris Egurrola ook onder contract staat.]

[Ellie Carpenter and Daniëlle van de Donk met at Olympique Lyon, where Damaris Egurrola is also under contract.]

Dat haar geliefde door een schorsing niet mag spelen in het kwartfinaleduel met Spanje, was ook een enorme teleurstelling voor Carpenter, volgens eigen zeggen de grootste fan van Van de Donk. „Ik heb geprobeerd haar een hart onder de riem te steken. Gelukkig krijgt ze veel steun van haar ploeggenoten en de staf, die haar het gevoel geven dat ze tot nu toe al heel veel heeft gedaan voor het team.”

The fact that her lover is not allowed to play in the quarterfinal due to a suspension with Spain was also a huge disappointment for Carpenter, according to his own words the biggest fan of Van de Donk. “I tried to support her. Fortunately, she gets a lot of support from her teammates and the staff, who make her feel like she has already done a lot for the team so far.”

Voor Carpenter is het een uitgemaakte zaak wie haar vriendin op het middenveld moet vervangen: Damaris Egurrola. „Zij kent Spanje van binnenuit, heeft met heel veel van die Spaanse meiden samengespeeld. Ik heb vertrouwen in dit Oranje en geniet van hun wedstrijden”, zegt de rechtsback van de Wallabies, die bij Olympique Lyon samenspeelt met Van de Donk en Egurrola.

For Carpenter, it is a foregone conclusion who should replace her friend in midfield: Damaris Egurrola. “She knows Spain from the inside out, has played with a lot of those Spanish girls. I have faith in this Orange and enjoy their matches,” says the Wallabies' right back, who plays alongside Van de Donk and Egurrola at Olympique Lyon.

Carpenter droomt van een WK-finale tegen Nederland. Dan gaat de beuk erin, belooft de verdedigster die op vijftienjarige leeftijd debuteerde voor het nationale team van Australië. „Mocht het zover komen, dan ga ik er vol voor. Zodra ik het veld oploop, is zij even niet meer mijn vriendin maar mijn tegenstander”, vertelde Carpenter na de 2-0 overwinning op Denemarken.Een eventuele eindstrijd tussen Australië en Nederland is sinds die zege weer een stapje dichterbij gekomen. Carpenter speelde voor ruim 75.000 toeschouwers in het uitverkochte olympisch stadion van Sydney. „De manier waarop we op het WK gesteund worden is fantastisch en heb ik nooit eerder meegemaakt. De mensen die in de nok van het stadion zaten kon ik niet eens zien. We weten amper wat we meemaken.”

Carpenter dreams of a World Cup final against the Netherlands. Then the beech goes in, promises the defender who debuted for Australia's national team at the age of fifteen. “Should it come to that, I'll go all out. As soon as I walk out on the field, she is no longer my girlfriend but my opponent,” Carpenter said after the 2-0 victory over Denmark. A possible final battle between Australia and the Netherlands has come one step closer since that victory. Carpenter played in front of over 75,000 spectators at Sydney's sold-out Olympic Stadium. “The way we are supported at the World Cup is fantastic and I have never experienced it before. I couldn't even see the people who were in the ridge of the stadium. We barely know what we're going through.”

Frankrijk (France)

Australië presteert met het bereiken van de laatst acht historisch goed, zegt Carpenter. „Ik ben trots dat we hier nog steeds staan, terwijl we werden gezien als underdogs. Voor elke wedstrijd is ons eerste doel het doel schoonhouden. De nul houden is voor ons belangrijker dan scoren. Dat is ons in drie van de vier wedstrijden gelukt.” Zaterdag spelen de ’Aussies’ in Brisbane tegen Frankrijk om een plek in de halve finale.

Australia is performing with reaching the last eight historical good, Carpenter says. “I am proud that we are still standing here, while we were seen as underdogs. For every match, our first goal is to keep the goal clean. Keeping the zero is more important to us than scoring. We succeeded in three of the four games.” On Saturday, the 'Aussies' will play in Brisbane against France for a spot in the semi-finals.

De vonk tussen Carpenter en Van de Donk sloeg over in Frankrijk, waar zij allebei bij Olympique Lyon spelen. Dat de 32-jarige Nederlandse nu eens aan Carpenters kant van de wereld is, vindt de Australische fijn. „Wij hebben hier ’down under’ zoveel te bieden.”

The spark between Carpenter and Van de Donk skipped in France, where they both play at Olympique Lyon. The Australian likes the fact that the 32-year-old Dutch is now on Carpenter's side of the world. 'We have so much to offer 'down under' here.'

Toekomstplannen (Future Plans)

Of dat ook betekent dat de twee uiteindelijk in Australië eindigen, durft Carpenter (23) niet te zeggen. „Mijn voetbalcarrière duurt logischerwijs nog langer dan die van Daniëlle. Ik kijk gewoon waar ik kan blijven voetballen en waar het ons naartoe brengt.”

Whether that also means that the two eventually end up in Australia, Carpenter (23) dares not say. “My football career logically lasts even longer than Daniëlle's. I'm just looking where I can keep playing football and where it takes us.”

[shizucheese]

I finally did it. I decided to start posting one of my TMA fanfics! You can find it on AO3 here! I haven't decided yet if I'm going to also post the whole thing here on Tumblr or just post the prolog here and then just announce when I update here with chapter excerpts and a link to AO3 going forward but um....enjoy!

Fic description:

John and Martin survived the events of Mag 200 and ended up Somewhere Else, but now Martin has become an Avatar of the Eye. Now the two of them must navigate all of the complications of their still-new relationship now that they don't have a fear apocalypse distracting them, AND being in a relationship where both people involved are Eye Avatars, AND Martin's struggles as a baby Eye Avatar.

Prolog

Two doors stood before him.

To his right, he could feel something watching him, even with the door shut. It exposed every part of him he had always tried to keep hidden. But it also promised knowledge. It promised understanding.

To his left, a thick, foreboding fog rolled from beneath the door, beckoning him. The door itself was sturdy and gave off the impression that beyond its threshold, there was nothing but isolation. But it promised “no more hurt.” It promised “peace.”

He turned to the door to the right and opened it.

He was greeted by a woman on fire. They were in an apartment. Before her, another woman stared on in terror. The burning woman reached out to her, and as her fingers grazed her arm, the hairs on it burned. He wanted to help her, wanted to reach out and pull her away from the fire, but he found he could not. He could only stand there, and watch.

And then they were gone.

The next thing he saw was a building. A theater, dark and foreboding, with patrons made of stone frozen in place as if they were rushing in to see a show. The scene before him was cold and grey and lifeless, and there was a…hole here. Something missing, though he could not say what it was or how he knew.

And just like that, it too was gone, crumbling before him into dust.

He was in a café. A woman sat at a table. A man sat before her, staring at her intently, and though he did not know the man, there was something in his chest that told him the man was so achingly familiar that he could not place. From the man, he got the feeling of eyes. Of watching. And then the woman was underground, being pulled, pulled, and the man was there and the woman was staring at him in terror. And then she saw him, and her eyes widened in horror she didn’t realize she could know more of. And he could not console her. And then they were in the cafe again and the woman was crying as the man continued to sit before her, watching. And then it all fell away and he was falling into a sky made of paint, alongside a man whose face was filled with elation, a toppled ladder floating above them.

And then it repeated. Again, and again, and he was forced to watch as the woman in the apartment burned, as the woman in the cafe cried before the man before being pulled underground, watched dispassionately by the man. And as these scenes before him repeated, they changed. The women in the apartment and the café, and the man falling into the sky, faded more and more each time. The theater, with its empty space, vanished entirely. And each time he saw the man in the café, his heart ached, and something in the back of is mind told him that he was familiar, in a way that the others he saw were not.

And as he fell into the painted sky, he started to experience brief flashes of a different fall. Of debris of a collapsing building, and the smell of fire, and the sensation of someone else with him, holding on to him as they fell. Together.

Eventually, the people in the scenes before him vanished entirely, save for the burning woman and the man in the café, and soon even the scenes before him began to grow more and more faded. And in the distance, he began to hear a voice.

“…wake up.”

And he kept falling.

“Please wake up. I ca—cant lose you…”

Falling.

“It should have been me…”

Falling

“I can’t do this without you, no please, please wake up I need you….”

Falling

“Please, I love you...”

And then Martin woke up.

[trentonsimblr]

Hi Lovelies!

Couple of announcements:

I'm pretty sure my story links aren't working right (thanks tumblr for messing them up). I haven't had the mental energy to fix them but they are on my list.

I'm working on a flash forward scene in honor of my two year anniversary that is coming up at the end of June but I will probably be posting it sooner than that.

I see the light at the end of the tunnel for this chapter! We will probably reach the end of it by the end of July(ish). I do plan to take a decent break during that time to plan out the next chapter in full. I will most likely be doing some mag covers and such to "pass the time" both in story and in real life.

I got a new job! (yay!) I'm really excited for it as it's back to healthcare/where my passion lies. I start that job on May 16th and I'm currently apartment hunting as well. If I'm not as responsive as usual, that's why.

I have a bunch of asks hanging out in my inbox, I will get to them soon! Promise! Some of them have been there for longer than I'd prefer.

Lastly (I think), I redid my first 3 generations of Rutherfords. They originals were just random sims that I took portraits of to hang around the palace before my gameplay turned into a story. They did not share sim genetics and two of them were the same sims as Elizabeth and Nathanael. I've added their pictures below and I will eventually update them in my Trenton History posts.

King Epidarius and Queen Jordan (the first King and Queen of Trenton)

King Hayes, King Ekert and Queen Olena

Queen Edwena and King Kellan

Princess Everly, King Ezequiel, and Prince Irvin

[kingmagnificoofrosas]

Hi!! I love your work and I sometimes go back to just admire your art ‘cause it’s so pretty!

I just have a small question, unless it’s details saved for your book…. since King Magnifico is the king of Rosas and Queen Myrah is the queen of Rosas then what kingdom is Queen Amaya the queen of? Or if I got it all wrong then my bad! Aha, so many king and queen words in that one sentence (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

Hiii! And awww thank you!!! 🥺❤️ I'm so happy to hear you love my art!!

Oh, don't worry, that question is totally fine! 🤭 I got ya! Royal mess of titles am I right? BUT, I wouldn't be the king's royal advicer and assistant if I couldn't reply to such questions! So ☝🏻 put your listening ears on 👂🏻, cause that answer takes a bit! 😌

Yes, our dear gem Magnifico was and is again, rightful king of Rosas and Myrah ( his soulmate ) logically - became queen after they married.

Amaya is Myrah's older cousin. That means, she's her mother's sister. Myrah's parents used to be king and queen of Solaris. A kingdom south-west from the iberian peninsula/spain. Through that royal connection, Amaya's parents were countess and earl, making Amaya a lady.

Amaya only became queen because she wanted to come with Magnifico to help him. Since they'd become close friends. Amaya's parents however, especially her father, was strictly against that, since she was still young at that time (16) . The only acceptable way for Magnifico to be able to take Amaya with him, would have been marriage. So Magnifico came up with the idea of a marriage of convenience. A secret promise he and Amaya made was, should they ever find their soulmates, the whole marriage by convenience would be nullified. Since Magnifico was royal from birth, he promised Amaya that he was able to do that once he stepped into his duty becoming king.

(I have s whole post about the marriage of convenience thing flying around on my blog somewhere too 😵‍💫 it's been a while )

Now, we all know how badly things went down . . . And my part is writing Magnifico's whole story 😉✍️🏼 so how exactly he and Myrah found each other and got together, that will be in my book as well. But you already know the most important fact. They are soulmates and of course, this time, Magnifico truly married for that reason.

Amaya has her soulmate as well and she married him eventually while Magnifico was still in the "cursed cage" as I like to call the realm he was trapped in. Don't worry, I've already promised to introduce Amaya's soulmate soon! So, while Mags was still gone, Amaya had remained in charge of Rosas for quite a while and through marrying Rowan (her soulmate) he became king for a short while. After Magnifico returned (yes it will all be in the book 😆 unless you truly want to hear the nitty gritty details. In that case, write me privately and I'll spill some tea!) He reclaimed his rightful place as king. Thus, Amaya went back to her status as lady making her husband a lord.

Magnifico let Amaya and Rowan stay home in his castle. Speaking the current timeline ( the present of my blog, past the events of my book ) Amaya and Rowan are Magnifico and Myrah's stand in's. That means, they take over watching Rosas whenever the royal couple takes some time off or goes on a vacation.

Phew! Quite a bit of an answer huh? I hope I could help you out 😄 thank you very much for that question! I enjoyed answering it!

[heyybeach]

‼️ Crimson Rivers spoilers‼️

Chapter 40

Okay I kinda guessed that the next games were going to draw tributes from the pool of existing Victors since that's what happens in Catching Fire. But I was not prepared for this.

I was foolish enough to believe everyone when they promised they wouldn't volunteer for each other. And began to be certain that Effie was going to volunteer in someone's place as planned, and that she would most likely die. Kind of like how Mags dies in Catching Fire.

But trust Sirius and Regulus to screw all of that up. And you know what? I understand to a point that Sirius would have always volunteered in Regulus' place. It's hinted at plenty of times during the first games, he does say several times that if he could take his brothers place he would. But for Regulus to then volunteer in James' place before Effie gets the chance??

What does he even hope to gain from this? Sirius is never going to try to save himself over Regulus, and if Effie had gone into the arena with him she would've done everything she could to save him. Is Regulus going to do the same? But his relationship with Sirius was so damaged by Sirius volunteering, I don't see that being the reason. Is it just to accept his fate since his name has been picked so many times?

Poor James honestly. Selfishly, I feel like Regulus is putting him in a horrible position. Now he's definitely losing either his best friend or his lover, and he'd already had to come to terms with the fact that he was definitely losing his mother. His head must be all over the place.

It's at the point now where it's really hard to read, cause everything is just so painful. I haven't seen Regulus' POV since the reaping so I guess I'll get some answers then.

On the bright side, I imagine that, similar to Catching Fire, the Order will interfere with the games and rescue Sirius and Regulus. They have their own POVs so at least they won't die, they'll just be severely traumatized. And Effie got her own POV so she's safe too.

I do fear for Pandora though, and I think I saw a spoiler a while ago that Marlene dies too? I'm not certain though.

And also poor Remus. I wonder if he watched the reaping and saw that Sirius had volunteered again. That must've destroyed him.

At this point I'm rambling on cause I'm putting off reading more. It's very good so far but I'm Struggling to cope. And yet hear I am, about to pick up where I left off as soon as I finish this post. Welp.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary127

1/19/2024

friday

even though i am not yet hired, i am feeling like i am only free 'for now'.

crazy how work, even the potentiality of it, divides up your life/ makes me feel like my life is being divided up, and that i possess less of it.

anyway i did 4 songs today, one of them was one i went back to, to brighten up one of the synths, and then the others were ones i've been meaning to get to. i think they all sound good, they're all pretty minimal re: fixing or whatever, just a lot of what feels like tightening, getting stuff a little sharper, getting some stuff louder.

now i am just listening to this:

makes me want to write more fucked up fast stuff again soon. i do have room for that still i'm pretty sure in the record so we'll see. writing riffs is fun and i miss it. maybe when i'm at this job i'll think about that more or something.

i wonder if i'll even be listening to music on my way to work, i don't want to take my psp with me and stuff, it'd be too much, and my phone has such little space it's so fucking annoying.

i also did read a chapter of wiseblood today, really nice to have the book around while i am just exporting stuff and waiting around.

i just listened to a bunch of the stuff i have randomly and i'm liking basically all of it. a common issue is the guitar synth things overpower a lot of stuff, so i can probably just drop them by like 1-2 db when necessary, and then maybe add some filtering to basses so they move out of the way of guitars more a bit. also i need the vox to be a touch louder, mostly.

here are some cute outfits i found from that one forum where people posted mag scanz:

spur:

the other half of that image is not anywhere, it seems like, but it's way cute, she's hanging out on a bunch of marshall amps, the katakana says "rock". very fun. imo.

fruits:

i really love the 2nd one, the like, dead animal makes it so weird/fucked, to me, i don't think we see that a lot, and it's probably okay if it's thrifted. idk. i guess the fact it intones some kind of cruelty/something offputting in an otherwise cute outfit is interesting + you don't see offputting as something fashion tries to be. she's probably not trying but something is. the bag too, it's so weird, in a good way, it feels like a real collision of things, the boots and helmet, it's a cool disaster.

and then more powerviolence:

these guys have kinda basic riffs but that makes picking them apart fun/easier, been a while since i've listened in that way, but it's also pretty good broadly, idk, it's imaginative in other sorts of ways, maybe i am just thinking too much about writing a 12 second long song or something, i wanna fuck around on my guitar again, just do stupid slide riffs where the shapes don't change at all, and then figure out fun synth bits.

otherwise right now i'm tired and maybe i should just get ready to sleep now, i'll post the postcard thingies tomorrow, i promise, honest, really, and maybe say more, but also maybe i'll get a lot of mixing done tomorrow, i hope i do. anyway

byebye!!!!!!!!!

[lylahammar]

Comin in a bit late with the MAG 189 art! I’m so happy Jon and Georgie are getting along again 💛