#these designs are not perfect but im still proud of them

[caeruleophile]

breaking bad yaoi gacha game when??

no i mean i know it's cringe but I'm gonna draw them two more in this crossover au??? bc i kinda like these designs

[sanstropfremir]

wait tell me more about your undergrad thesis play you did

ok i can't actually say too many details because it will doxx me (the play was deeply specific to the city i went to undergrad in) but i have to lay some groundwork first:

i did not actually choose to do this play. if given actual agency i would not have done this play, it was a bad play

hilariously, not every design program grad actually got to do a final/thesis show. our program only did three shows a year, which meant that a maximum of 3 students per discipline (set/costume/lighting) got to do a show. and usually it was less that that bc there were graduate students and occasionally a professor stepped in if the student crop was weak (it usually was). this is how you obtained a final show (for set design):

duking it the fuck out in a no holds barred semester long competition IN the set design class where the prof pits you against each other in every critique to see who can design the best show according to the director's specifications.

no i am not joking

i was not particularly enthused by any of the show selections in my graduating year (the season is picked in advance by a committee of staff+directors) but i sure as hell am ambitious so i decided i was gonna do preliminary designs for every show. and also interview to try and get a costume design slot, but the department literally stepped in and told me i couldn't design two shows in a year.

anyways. i go above and beyond building prelim models for these three shows, but again i get sidestepped by the department and told that i can't design more than one show, so i have to pick which one i want to do, so i went with the show that would become my final show bc the director was very adamant about working with me.

the play is a REWRITE of the government inspector by nikolai gogol, and that rewrite is being done by the director herself. the rewrite is set in the literal city that my university is in, part of it revolves around a very famous historical landmark

all of this happens a year in advance to the actual show (second semester of my third year, the show's run dates are late second semester of my fourth year), so i have the entire summer and all of the first semester to tidy up the prelim design and get it approved etc etc. here are a select few of some of the insane stories than happened over the time it took to make this show:

the director does NOT finish the script until about a week before rehearsals start

the director invites me to a 'design meeting' that actually turns out to be a private meal at a very expensive sushi restaurant and possibly the most expensive meal of my entire life. the director treats me to some extremely expensive fish and two bottles of sake, which i drink all of. i should point out that i am 21 at the time and the director is anywhere between the age of 65 and 85, no one actually knows. also the director IS LITERALLY MY PROFESSOR

the director will not decide on what she wants on the floor (has to function as both indoor and outdoor space, the floor is also a nearly 30ft diameter turntable (not my choice) so any patterns HAVE to match a circle) and when we finally settle on a mandala pattern she makes me draw FORTY DIFFERENT MANDALAS over a three week period before she decides on one.

i make the props department order over a thousand dollars of fake plants. it takes up a third of my budget, but they are most of the set pieces 🤷‍♀️

the head of shop somehow gets the actual city council to lend us real actual city lampposts. like real real ones made of aluminium and glass and shit. they get wired up with portable dimmer packs and put on small platforms so they both actually for real light up AND roll around the stage

there's a fuckup with the scenic painting class + the rehearsal schedule (the rehearsals are running behind and there are not enough scenic painters) so the mandala painting has to happen in only two days AFTER 10pm. i end up painting most of the mandala myself in those two overnight shifts that go until 4am

oh and there's also a fuckup with the new set design prof that's coming in so i'm literally left without a supervisor for an entire semester while the show is in pre production.

[taintedcigs]

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃彡

rockstar!steddie x reader

summary: dating two rockstars is fun, except when you get caught breaking their rules, and your punishment ends up in the form of some festive fun — tied up with christmas lights.

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious), spanking, punishment?, daddy kink (but its so very light do not look at me im so seriously embarrassed), oral (m receiving, good old bj), kinda rough, dom/sub dynamics, mean!dom!eddie, mean!dom!steve no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, nicknames!

authors note: the banner thingy of this is making me laugh i tried ok. graphic design is my PASSION.

Taming brats. 

That was something Eddie was really fucking good at. 

Expert even, especially after he started dating you. And once Steve was thrown into the mix, you were unstoppable.

Acting out more than usual, being a teasing little slut.

It all happened with a drunken night out after their show, three-way kissing, and hours of making each other cum led to one realization; the three of you worked perfectly, and you and your boyfriend were more than okay to open up the relationship to Steve. 

To Steve it was all so exciting, this new dynamic, the fun stuff the three of you tried, the punishments, the edging, the overstimulation, all the new kinks, intrigued him to no end. Yet, Steve still had one problem; he wasn’t that good at being a dominant. 

Whether it was him apologizing to you and not being able to fully punish you, him letting you be bratty, or him letting some of your actions go unpunished just because you looked at him all prettily. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like being a dominant, he did, he really fucking did. So much so that he was doing everything he could to not fuck it up and make you and Eddie proud.  

It was that he was just very new to this, while Eddie had his fair share of kinky sex stories, and so did you, all Steve had were some hookups here and there, the groupies he had weren’t that interesting; the wildest thing he ever did was some dirty talk, and maybe getting his dick sucked at a public bathroom. This was a brand new territory he was trying to get adjusted to. 

The two of you were more than okay with helping him adjust to it all. Eddie loved teaching Steve about you and your body, what you enjoyed, what made you squirm, what made you instantly cum and of course; how exactly to punish you the right way. It all sounded perfect as an idea, but Steve could never execute it well. 

Whether it was because of those puppy eyes you did, or the whines that he drew from your mouth anytime he tried to put you in your place, or the begging and the sweet-talking, Steve didn’t have it in his heart to go all the way, which earned him the ‘soft daddy’ tittle you giggly called him all the time. 

So, Eddie wanted to teach him how to do it properly, in a way that was enjoyable and comfortable for all three of you, clearly, he knew you better than Steve did, and he knew his sort of punishments were always something you took pleasure out of, so he wanted to show Steve that, make him realize how good it made you feel, and how the dynamic truly worked. 

And this was the perfect time to show him, especially when you broke one of the most important rules. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed against his chest, disappointed, angrier than you ever saw him, you with your head drooped low and your hands behind your back, and Eddie with that goddamned smirk on his lips leaning against the wall, tilting your chin upwards with a tut. 

You were naked, fingers still coated with your juices, a slight guilt flashing across your eyes​​—but not really. Because you wanted to be caught, you wanted this punishment. Wanted the attention. 

Especially when both of them were so busy with work since New Year’s was coming up. They were either at gigs or at the studio, not even letting you come with them because you were ‘too distracting’.  

So, once again when they left for the studio, you had an idea. An idea that would surely bring out a mean punishment, yet the best pleasure. 

The second you heard the door getting unlocked, you were naked, laying on the bed, turning on your vibrator, knowing that once you let out a few slight gasps, the two of them would end up in the room, and all of their attention would be on you. 

“Eds, I swear I—I didn’t even cum!” You muttered with a whine. 

Eddie barked out a chuckle, mocking you. “That doesn’t mean shit, baby, rules are rules.”

“Steve!” You whined all brattily, turning to him with a pout, expecting to earn some sympathy from him, because you always did. Yet, there was something different this time, a darkness his gaze didn’t possess until now, you’d be lying if it didn’t make you rub your thighs together in excitement. 

“Don’t think you can try to get out of this one by sweet-talking me doll, not gonna work,” Steve mumbled, the nickname rolling off his tongue with all the pent-up anger. 

“Now we have to punish you.” He narrowed his gaze, making you swallow. Shit, he’d have to cave eventually, right? Because this was Steve. 

“And I’m sure, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Our attention?�� You don’t answer, knowing that anything coming from your mouth could get you more into trouble, and Eddie scoffed at the state of you, that devilish grin playing on his lips. 

“Steve, honey, can you get those Christmas lights?” He asked sweetly, a smile flashed his way, and nothing but a scowl flashed yours. 

“L—lights?” You asked with a pout. Fuck, lights meant trouble, because you hated how tight they were, and you hated not being able to touch them. 

“Yeah, have to bring out the big guns, you’ve been so bratty lately. Such a shame too, because you were doing so good honey, when was the last time you were all tied up?” He quizzed mockingly, face inches away from yours. 

“I don’t remember.” You mumbled.

“Aha, that’s why we need it back, and so that I can teach Steve how to tie our little slut up, isn’t that right?” As if on cue, Steve came back with a grin, the long string of Christmas lights in his embrace. 

“Thank you, baby,” Eddie hummed excitedly, pressing a harsh kiss on Steve’s lips, flushing his cheeks a salmon pink, before he made a show of the strings of light, wrapping it around his hand, and grinning while he made his way over to you. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed again, and Eddie motioned toward you. “Lie down on Steve’s lap, face down.” With a quick huff, you obeyed, crawling over his lap, making a show of it as you wiggled your ass in the air, enjoying the low hisses from both men. 

“Arms behind your back, slut,” He hisses, and you’re quick to obey, crossing your arms over your back, watching as he plugs the lights into the outlet, a grin overtaking his face as they light up. 

He stretches them forward before he begins tying you up, twisting them around your arms, making sure your wrists are steadily restrained, before he loops them around your hips and your legs, making sure it has a tight hold on you. 

“Look how pretty you look like this.” He grins, watching the way the Christmas lights illuminate your skin as he lands a harsh smack on your bare flesh, and you yelp dramatically over it, skin burning with the impact. You try your best not to giggle, not to make him know that you’re enjoying this, because you want the punishment to be over as soon as possible. 

You need to cum. And you know Eddie can, and will edge you till’ however long he wants, so as much fun as it is to be a brat, you need to behave, for these next ten minutes, or try to seduce Steve in some way, you knew he tried to be tough, but you always managed to break him. 

Eddie kneels next to you, while Steve squeezes your ass, his cock stirring more and more you whimper for him. “Steve’s gonna spank you five times,” Eddie taunts with a grin, and you nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your stomach the more you feel Steve’s grabby hands. 

“That is unless you want some more?” Eddie challenges with a raise of his brow.

“N—no!” 

“Good girl,” he praises, and fuck, does that make your stomach instantly tumble. 

“Make it rough, Steve, she enjoys that shit,” he spits, fingers teasingly dancing around your shoulder. 

“She sees you as her soft daddy, she thinks you can’t really punish her, you gotta show her that you own her, too,” Eddie mocks with a slight grin, enjoying the way Steve’s gaze is overblown with lust now. 

“Is that right, honey?” Steve hisses, all mean and biting. Something you haven’t seen to this length, something that was making you so intrigued that you could barely speak. 

“Nuh-uh,” you hummed, head dipped into the couch, before Steve had a harsh grip on your chin, making you face him. Chocolate gaze growing darker, and pupils blown wide. 

“Need you to count for me, honey, can you do that?” You nodded, quick and obedient, and Steve was starting to understand how good it felt, to have you surrender to him, his cock stirring at your doe-eyes. 

His hand raises in the air, the smack of it much softer than Eddie’s, but still rough enough that you feel the sting, a warm feeling overtaking your flesh, causing you to yelp at the unexpected intrusion. 

“You can be rougher, baby,” Eddie encourages, enjoying that pure hunger in Steve’s amber hues, and he’s quick to nod. 

“I thought you said you could count, slut. Is that pretty little head of yours so full with the thought of our cocks that you forgot to count all of a sudden, doll?” The nicknames roll off his lips like a warning, tone so coarse that you immediately tense up, apologetic gaze meeting his dark ones.

“S—sorry, Stevie,” you muttered, his sudden dominance making your body tremble, and your cheeks flush with heat. “O—one.” 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He coos, hand smoothing over your reddened skin, reveling the way you shudder under his touch. 

He spanks you again, and another yelp falls out of your lips, this time much harder than before, you can fully feel the pain, and Eddie watches the two of you in awe.

“Two.” 

His hand gropes your ass again, massaging over your heated skin, and once again, harsh smack lands on your marked-up flesh, much rougher, but easing the second he carefully traces over it. 

“T—three,” you mutter, moaning into the pillows your head was smushed in. 

You feel another hand join Steve’s, but your attempts to look up at Eddie are turned down when he tuts, “Focus on your punishment.” 

His fingers are teasing as they make their way up to your trembling thighs, drawing whiney breaths from you. He uses his index fingers to spread you apart, both him and Steve groaning at the sight of your puffy clit. 

His fingers find their way inside of you, earning shaky moans while you try to push yourself back onto him, to have more, to feel that fullness, and all Steve does is chuckle at you, at how pathetic you want them both, rutting against Eddie’s fingers while you moan. 

And just as you’re about to beg for more, beg to have both of their cocks, two harsh slaps land on your ass, one on both cheeks, the two boys grinning devilishly as they watch the way their handprints mark your ass. 

“Four,” you mumble, words scrambled together when all you want is more from them, the mocking making you wetter and wetter. Especially when Steve is being all mean for the first time.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, sweetheart, did you?” Steve mocks with a pout, and you moan into the pillow again. 

Steve kneads your sensitive skin, while Eddie’s fingers are still inside of you, your ass is burning, but it feels so good that you can’t help the whines that leave your mouth. 

“Such a fuckin’ slut for us, aren’t ya? Soaking my fingers just for being spanked, told you she likes it rough, Stevie.” Eddie pushes his fingers fully inside of your walls, thumb toying with your clit, so agonizingly slow that you bite down on the pillow, incoherent babbles leaving your lips. 

You need this punishment to be over so that you can have both of them, it’s so pathetically overwhelming and teasing that you don’t even realize what you’re begging for, just when you’re about to push back on his fingers again, the roughest slap comes, and you cry out at the impact. 

You’re sure your ass is practically burning now, but it feels so good that you’ve basically already melted into the sheets, body feeling frail with how turned on you really are. And, thankfully this was the last.

“Five!” You wail out with excitement filling your tummy, Eddie’s fingers slip outside of you with that, you’re too fucked out to register any of it, the pain subsiding and fast to turn into pleasure when Steve is kneading your firey flesh, it has you feeling so painfully empty that you’re looking at Steve with pouty lips and a desperate gaze. 

“Good girl,” Steve praises, pressing a sloppy kiss on your bruised skin, and you whimper at the cold feeling, cheeks fluttering at the much needed praise. 

“N—need more, please,” you mutter, it’s a long shot, and by the way they’ve both been so mean, you knew neither their teasing nor the punishment was going to end soon. But, fuck, were you desperate. 

Steve barks out a laugh, it’s evil, and just as mocking as you’d expect, but not from Steve. Eddie looks almost as surprised, but so very proud, because both of you want this dynamic to work, and for Steve to be in this as much as the two of you are, and it looks like it’s finally working. 

“So fuckin’ mouthy today, aren’t ya?” He coaxed, picking you up to roll you over to the bed, hands grabby before he turned to Eddie. 

“I think we should put those pretty lips to use, baby, what do y’think?” Steve quipped, gazing at Eddie with the need for approval, and Eddie’s cock stirred at the both of you. 

Steve submitting to him, still taking a bit of control to dominate you. Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted. 

“Get on all fours for your daddies, pretty girl,” Steve hummed, leaving a playful smack on your already marked-up ass while you yelped, pussy clenching around on nothing. 

“Do you know how fucking hot you are when you order her around like this?” Eddie groaned, his hand gathering curls at the nape of his neck, gripping it tightly to pull him in for a kiss, all teeth, and no mercy. Greedily sucking at each other’s tongues, ignoring all of your squirming. 

You’re so unbelievably wet and you need something, anything. Seeing the two boys kiss is not doing you any good, so you just mewl with such desperation that both of them break apart from the kiss with a dark gaze. 

“I said all fours,” Steve hisses, but you pout, struggling to stand while your hands are tied behind your back, and your body is wrapped around the lights, making your skin glow in the best way possible. 

“Aww, can’t do it on your own, sweetheart?” Eddie taunts with a pout, and you’re quick to nod. 

“You need our help, baby?”

“P—please,” you muttered, almost embarrassed.

“You want your daddies to fill all your holes is that it, slut?” You nodded vigorously. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, speak up,” Steve chimed in. 

“Y—yes, please, please I need both of you, need both of you to fuck me, please—” your rambling was cut off by Eddie’s dark chuckle. 

“God, so fuckin’ desperate, should we give her what she wants, Stevie?” He nodded off toward Steve, a mocking pout on his lips. 

“I do want to punish her more… but I also need that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock, she’s been too mouthy lately, don’t ya think, Munson?” Steve groaned loudly at the thought. 

“Mhmm, and I should fuck her pathetic little pussy, show her who really owns her, yea?” Eddie grinned toward you. 

“You definitely should, does she think she can make herself cum better than we do?” Steve asked tauntingly. 

“N—no I don’t! P—please need both of you s’bad, ‘m sorry, I won’t touch myself again, daddies, I promise,” you cried out, desperate, enough to have both of their cocks ache with the need to fuck you. 

“You’ll be sorry, sweetheart, we’ll make sure of it.” Both of them were quick to get rid of their clothes, joining you on the bed, Eddie holding you by your hips, and Steve steadying you by your shoulders, both sets of angry red tips facing your holes. Eagerness ignites a fire in your entire body. 

“God, I was going to stretch you out a little bit, but look at you sweetheart, practically gushin’ for me and we barely did anything.” Eddie grins, fingers toying with your soaked clit, and you whimper loudly, looking up at Steve with hooded eyes, excitedly waiting to get what you were promised for, your entire body feels like it’s on fire, everywhere they touch burns, and you want nothing more than to have them fuck you, anywhere and everywhere. 

Steve barely jerked his erected cock before he dragged it over your lips, smearing his beaded pre-cum all over, mixing with your gloss. Starving, you were quick to lick it all away, that salty taste coated your tongue and you hummed. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He almost lost it there and then.

“God, she’s soakin’ my fingers, Stevie.” Eddie moaned, relishing in the squelching sounds your pussy made the more his fingers entered inside of you.

“Please,” you whispered, desperately pushing back on his fingers, trying to get more. 

You turned your head as best as you could. “Please, daddy. Fuck me.” Your tone was sultry, making Eddie groan. 

“And, please, fuck my mouth daddy, I deserve it,” you muttered, this time faux innocent gaze at Steve’s, his mouth hanging open, eyes lulling as he looked down on you. 

With a slight groan, “Open up,” he ordered, and you opened your mouth eagerly, while he dragged his aching cock inside, watching the way you quickly wrapped your lips around his length, sucking on it greedily.

“Her mouth is heavenly, Munson, you need to fuck her while I’m fuckin’ her mouth,” Steve groaned loudly when you bobbed up and down. 

“Open her up, Eddie, really fuck her, use her like the little slut she is.” That was all the encouragement Eddie needed, his fingers left your hole with a slick sound, emptiness making you whine around Steve’s cock. 

You didn’t have much time, or even the space to complain with Steve’s cock hammered into your mouth. You couldn’t see Eddie but you could feel him shift behind you, his hot tip teasing against your entrance, pre-cum smearing all over your clit, making you whimper crazily around Steve’s cock, driving him further into a pleasure he didn’t know existed.

You were at your fucking limit. Only when the head of his cock teased against your slit that you let out a sigh of relief. He pushed his cock inside, the hold he had on your waist was bruisingly rough. 

He pushed and pushed his way inside, cock slipping easily through your soaked folds. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

It always amazed you how fucking big and thick he was, stretching you out in every way possible. 

His groans were guttural, and so were Steve’s, especially when his hands wrapped around your hair halting his cock into your mouth, realizing you were too fucked out to do it properly. 

“So sloppy when you get your holes filled,” Steve tutted, “fucking love it when you go all dumb on our cocks like this, such a perfect little cock sleeve for us, aren’t you? Just waiting to be used by your daddies, hmm?” He hummed, eyes stuck on you when he yanked you by your hair again, pumping his cock further into your mouth. 

You whimpered in an attempt to nod, crying out once Eddie pushed in deeper inside of you, cunt clamping around him and so very willing. Your pussy was his. 

And you felt full, so fucking full.

“Shit, shit, fuck! She’s so fuckin’ warm and tight, Steve.” Eddie grunted, voice ragged, his weight on top of you, as he poised all the way inside of you, and you tried your best to adjust to his cock. But, fuck, did he always stretch you out, make you feel all of him. 

“Jesus, baby, look how perfectly your holes are taking our cocks, it’s like you were made for us, huh?” Steve almost growled, fucking your mouth with ease while he enjoyed the way you gagged around his cock, tear-streaked cheeks, and looking up at him with those alluring eyes. 

All three of you were about to fucking lose it. It was all too much, all so fucking good, making your body feel like jelly while they manhandled you in the best way possible. 

He slammed into you rougher, not stopping until he was sure you were full of him, same with Steve, filling you all the way in. You felt achy in the best way possible, and their grunts sounded lewd and angelic at the same time. 

He pulled out and slammed back in. Just as brutal but his hips picked up speed, the more he fucked into you, the more you took Steve into your mouth. Creating the perfect harmony between the three of you. 

You felt like you were going to explode, mind going hazy with everything. And of fucking course Eddie could tell, with the way you were squirming, thighs shuddering, and your tender pussy gripping his dick nicely. 

Your mewls and whines were muffled by Steve’s cock slammed down your throat. “Shit, honey, are you gonna cum already?” Eddie asked with a low groan. 

You nodded, as best as you could with Steve’s hold, eyes pleading, begging, so fucking desperate that neither of them wanted to hold you off. 

Besides, your punishment wasn’t edging tonight. 

“Pretty girl, cum for us, baby, soak Eddie’s dick,” Steve grunted, teeth grinding together, just barely holding all of it. It was making him feral watching the way Eddie’s thick cock plunged into you, while you took his cock into your mouth, like the good fucking girl you were. 

He almost looked at Eddie for approval, and he nodded quickly. “Cum for us, sweetheart.” His words were all the encouragement you needed. Muffled noises tumbled from your mouth as Eddie’s cock hit spots you didn’t even know existed and brought you over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you, pussy shuddering around Eddie’s cock.  

“Our perfect girl, cumming just from us using your holes, shit,” Steve cursed, desperate to give you all of his load, make sure you never spilled a fucking drop of it.  

“God, she’s so fuckin’ tight when she cums, Steve, don’t think I’m gonna last,” Eddie growled, his thrusts dramatic, enough to have the bed creaking with a squeaky noise.

“Come with me, baby, let’s fill her up at the same time, hmm?” Steve grunted.

“Yeah, you’d like that, baby? You’d want your daddies to fill all your holes?” He taunted with your chin in his hands, Eddie’s rough hold on you was making it harder to focus, you just came but you simultaneously needed more. They were so fucking addicting. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin—” Eddie rambled, so deep inside of you that you whimpered around Steve’s cock, making him grunt like a madman. 

“Me too, Munson, shit!”

“Gonna give you so much of my cum you’ll never get it out of you, princess, fuck!” It was a promise, his thrusts were brutal, bruising, and fucking divine. 

“S—shit baby, I’m—fuck! I wanna see you swallow all of my load, not one fuckin’ drop—oh fuck!” Steve added.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Both of them yelled in almost perfect sync. Thick cum filled inside of your walls and shot down your throat, it looked like Steve was too fucked out to tell you to swallow, and you beat him to it, sucking him dry with an exaggerated humming sound. 

Eddie was still unloading inside of you, seed spilled so deeply that it made you feel so warm, making his eyes roll to the back of his head. Both of their cocks and cum filling your holes, darkened gazes staring down at you, and it felt fucking amazing. 

You loved the little praises, the ‘good girl’ and ‘perfect girl’ they uttered before they placed thousands of kisses over your skin. Yet, you were nowhere near done, no, this was just a little taste. And you were hungry. 

“A—are you going to untie me now?” You asked, unwillingly, bringing that desire spark back into both of their gaze in an instant.

“Oh, sweetheart, you thought we were done?” That mocking voice was back like it never left, and you couldn’t help the way excitement pooled your tummy again. Shit, they were fucking good. 

“You wanted to cum, didn’t you? We’ll make sure you’ll cum, over and over, creaming our cock till you physically fucking can’t anymore.” Steve added, both of them grinning like a Cheshire cat, knowing there was so much more to your punishment. 

[local-omen]

bad batch finale thoughts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first of all damn. like damn. they really did it. those crazy sons of bitches did it. they ended this beloved show in a way that was cathartic, happy, full of tension, and did all the characters justice. my faith in star wars has been restored. i am so happy

—— the tension was unmatched this whole episode. like narratively, killing off tech told us as the audience that no one is safe, there’s no plot armor. so the whole time i was like omg they’re all gonna die but they dIDNT BECAUSE THEYRE THE BEST IN THE BUSINESS AND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LOYALTY AND LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND THATS WHAT THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT. LOYALTY AND LOVE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

—— CROSSHAIRS HAND IM SOBBING there is something so heart wrenching but amazing about his 'shooting hand' being taken away from him. it's like the physical embodiment of why he was created but now that he's free of that embodiment, he can choose to be whatever he wants. such a good choice narratively imo

—— that elite task force was badass i'm obsessed with their designs and their fighting styles i kinda wish we got more of them but they were also terrifying

—— crosshair finally made the shot that mattered the MOST. i love him so much. like he seriously means so much to me idec

—— still bummed that tech is actually dead (no he’s not haha loser i’m happy in my delusions). while i do think it’s technically more realistic for clone soldiers bred to die and raised with the expectation that they’ll be killed in battle to lack emotion, i think the lack of emotion this season was to its detriment. however i will say that the “clone force 99 died with tech” line was so good it pretty much made up for it lol

—— THE ENDING WAAA A A AAA A. A A A A. A AAA. A A A A A. A A AAA AAA AAA AAAA A A AAAAAA A A. omega and hera best friends confirmed. they were rebellion pilots together. omega is in the rebellion. like that is just the perfect ending to her character i can’t even. because of course she would. and i love her. i’m so proud of her. she is the heart and soul of this show and anyone who hated her is prolly feelin realllll silly right now

—— damn we’re really just not gonna know who the cx 2 operative was huh. like. he really was just a guy

—— that last shot of tech’s glasses almost got me i fr almost cried. he would be so so so proud of omega. he would be proud of all of them

—— omegas and hunters older designs mean everything to me. just. storytelling through clothes will never not be my favorite thing. her little skull patch 😭🫠 the bandana 🫠🥲

this show means so much to me, truly. it has inspired me artistically, comforted me, and connected me to some amazing people. i don’t even feel stupid for writing all these thoughts about a ‘silly little star wars show’ because damn it this is what art and stories means to people!! this is how powerful they can be! i do not need to hide behind jokes and irony to communicate how much this artistic work means to me!

<3

[applepixls]

can we talk about grians character development this season?

this time last year if he built a tree he would've asked for scar's help or asked him to consult on how to improve it. this time last year he wouldn't have even made farms in his base, he would've gone to the shopping district and if he needed to do redstone he would've asked for someones help/advice.

this season hes researching weird tree terms like pollarding and coppicing and da vincis rules about how trees should exist in proportion from trunk to branches. he's implementing scar's technique of using dirt scaffolding to plan out the shapes of organic builds and he's looking at his finished result and realizing it would look better and more realistic with 10% of the leaves gone. AND he's thinking about how it looks good from EVERY DIRECTION (normally he only cares about one side of builds, hence them all being unfinished and backless) and the perfect little bonus is that he's proud of it. it is so easy to look at your work and compare it to others' and think yours isn't good enough or just dislike your work from looking at it for too long. we're all conditioned to need approval from other people but to allow ourselves to take pride in our work is so!!!!! cracked skillset. theres a bit less evidence with the redstone but he still is finding tutorials for farms and adapting them to his needs and changing tick speeds so it works on laggy servers like hermitcraft and even if the sugarcane isn't a particularly original design it also isn't made following a tutorial meaning he figured it out all on his own!

while im sad our favourite codependent menace is getting a little less codependent (/hj, i mean this in a very silly way) i am so impressed by the amount of little changes its taken to make it to this sort of big noticeable change

[daystarvoyage]

Luz Shouldve Been Dressed By A POC (Person Of Color Or Luz Batista To Show Better Cultural & POC Reprensation)

Hello Tumblers, This is kyoko cane of daystar voyage, as a proud black person who’s genderqueer who makes content creations On Pop culture such as Cosplay & drag, I do talk on Animation & Family Entertainment So glad to get this topic cause what we see on tv can be put into reality, Now (Disclaimer)

I will not accept hate on the daystar voyage anyone who can’t handle different opinions, ship whatever (unless legal) if not walk out or off this spaceship into a asteroid belt and black hole

Don’t hate appreciate.

One more thing I do love my girl Luz pilot outfits, there goals however wish they had time to put patterns into her clothes often, like I said in my hootview

However the female cast had a better closet then her, and I did discuss that in my video, for some time they did make her dress in a shonen archetype, (which I made a post about her hair) or an spicy Latina Which of of course personality wise too, (cause she’s made to be the gender non confirming character) but excuse all that cause in a way, the staff shoulda hired someone whos Either Afro, African American Or Latin to dress this girl.

Oh boy now that im done rewatching The Owl House there’s so much in store soon anyway,

I do feel its time to start this short post, I have a fashion hootview which is the intermission so there’s still a lot to come meantime, finished my rewatch of The Owl House as an animation lover,

Lets discuss this topic at hand,

2020s animators need to take notes on costuming & style tips to make characters stand out in environments and to treat there characters better in fashion or color coordination,

yes you can have a color coded character and not rely of a main palette to be able to bring out there features & complexion,

Animators need to take notes, how to properly show kids & there audience that good clothing could be put onto a character of any occasion & not have to rely on sexuality or Stereotype (Disney Programs have a hit or miss on certain shows.)

while proper fashion can do justice, that goes into making a franchise and making a product to sell for marketability in retail & consumers.

if the character or product can be sold with a great design if executed flawless by character, design, costuming, and the app that comes within the series,

This goes to the fandom cause there might be future artistsor small indie creators reading this who probably never read, or look up fashion brands, magazines either hot couture or brand clothing and don’t have that knowledge But that shouldn’t stop you from being able to experiment with different color palettes on what goes into your art.

The fandom needs a wake up call that not only is everything’s perfect and people have the right to critic and criticize a show or any form of art.

cause fandoms today has a self righteous way of bullying others of different opinions and ostracizing others and ithas to stop,

Here’s a quick tv trope in color-coded characters, & a Toonsmag article on fashion in animation.

Marketability is a important factor, industries rely on that to make the money off of that series, be a cartoons or projects,

it impacts the character and representation that kids see when they purchase said item and teaching kids, see good representation within media can matter if done right.

Especially POCs if executed well however

DONW BELOW in some cases miraculous ladybug fumbles it hard, at one point had all the poc of color (EXAMPLE limited to alya and nino if not max be lighter tones on there merch.)

You know lighting character's skin tones like Alya and other brown or dark skin characters, on their products & merch (bad ethnic representation award goes to them).

Not to mention the whole Vas underpaid controversy, that’s been discussed countless times.

(still disappointed about there business decisions)

I appreciate the love of anyone who can view and read this article if you gotten this far,

thanks for reading make sure to check my Tumblr and YouTube vlog cause so much of this particular series I’m gonna debunk

The show had a-lot going for it however feel flat including in the fashion department along miraculous ladybug that’s another thing to be discuss OH BOY so anyway

here’s an example of the video game art of Guilty Gear showing great costume progress years later

always educate yourself cause I do want my platform to show variety on what I offer creatively and semi-education-wise to be able to let people be inspired and that you don't need to follow trends, thank you very much seeya on the next space voyage.

[amethystfairy1]

Hi Amethyst! It's been a hot minute since I sent an ask in, but I have been reading both fics every day (still obsessed lmao) (also I name changed btw, used to be ElenaLoo)

Anyways, I had written a whole ask waxing eloquent on all the wonderful things going on in ttsbc, but I accidentally shut off my computer partway through and frankly I can't be bothered to write it all out again lmao. Just. It's beautiful (wow isnt that so meaningful and deep? im sure you're feeling very complimented rn)

The REAL thing I wanted to talk about was Traveling thieves (which is by far my favorite fanfic of ALL TIME), and all the amazingness in ttsbc made me forget it even existed for the past few weeks. But the other day I was just like "oh yeah. Traveling thieves." and then i reread the whole thing. whoopsies.

Ummm anywyas there's so many thoughts in my head about all the little guys, but recently I've been on an Imp and Skizz obsession (just scroll on my page for .2 seconds and you'll see) and YOU. You left them on a CLIFFHANGER. >:((( (not actually mad btw). I just. so excited for them. They're out alone in the woods right now and Skizz is going to have the perfect opportunity to kill Impulse and get away and I just am falling apart thinking about them. (I drew them to cope lol, posted on my blog but also later here so that I can talk about it more). I can see this playing out a few ways. Obviously Skizz isn't actually going to kill Impulse, so he's either going to 1) make up some excuse as to why he can't do it right then, but still plans to do it eventually, or 2) he does it. but he doesn't. Skizz attacks Impulse when he's not expecting it, there's a scuffle, and Skizz comes out on top---BUT THEN HE CAN"T FINISH IT!!! and it's a whole thing where even tho skizz tried to kill him, imp is still so understanding and skizz cries and impulse just freaking gives him a hug and

sigh

Whatever you do will be beautiful, I'm sure. I think you mentioned you're switching to tt after this fic, so crossing my fingers it's imp and skizz. (Though, would also be very happy with Martyn and Ren :P) (or anything really i just love tt)

Anyways, I had the art on my blog but I'm also putting it here so i can say things about it to you

Mostly I'm just very proud of their expressions, with Impulse being all concerned glancing over at Skizz, meanwhile Skizz is completely deadpan staring forwards, also looking very tired bc he needs a break from this universe. Also I switched up my Impulse design a lil bit from last time (if u even remember that lol it was months ago now). you would think, just looking at them, that Impulse took way longer to design, but nope, I was messing around with Skizz for at least double the time, trying to figure out how to have him facing forward whilst still showing some of the scars on his back. I gave up eventually xD (all that means is that im gonna have to draw him again later, from different angles)

actually that made me remember a question I had: are you planning to ship Imp and Skizz? Ik you said Zed and Tango are going to be a thing far in the future, but... skizzpulse? plzzzz plz pretty please haha im not obsessed

aaaaaand that reminds me of another question, is skizz going to be in ttsbc? (pretty please also same question as tt, if he was in ttsbc, are him and impulse together? Im addicted to them all i care about these days is some good imp and skizz shipfics, and you're such a fantastic writer, both with plot and the vibes of the words themselves. u could write such good imp and skizz. just imagine the possibilites! (am i selling it?))

aaaaaanyways. im gonna go reread the old tt skizz fics because theyre delicious and painful, like eating knives. u have a good day :))

HIIIIIII

I ADORE THIS ART SO MUCH! I gave you all my rambles on the reblog but it's SOOOOO COOL!

I'm sad the waxing eloquent about TTSBC is gone 😭 but that's ok!

I'm so glad you're enjoying TT and all the drama going on in there! Imp and Skizz are definitely having a time and a half with all of this nonsense going on...I love all your theories! I won't confirm or deny anything of course, but I'm so happy you're excited for them!

I will not be shipping Imp and Skizz, sorry! I just personally don't ship them, so they're gonna remain platonic...I mean, in TT who knows what the hell they're doing to be fair 😆 but yeah, Zedango is going to be a thing in the distant future, but no Skizzpulse! Sorry!

Skizz is not in TTSBC at the moment, that doesn't mean he never will be! Just haven't found a spot for him yet...and no, he also would not be with Impulse, I'm so sorry I just don't ship them personally! I think it's a very cute ship tho!

Enjoy rereading the TT Skizz fics!!! Thank you again for the gorgeous art!!!! I love it!!! 💖

[wewerebornsextuplets]

@flowerakatsuka I actually LOVE getting excuses to talk about this kind of stuff so ill be happy to elaborate!! under the cut in case this gets too long (which it probably will)

so full disclosure, there was a pretty long gap between when proto-kiru (then called yoshimi) was initially Designed and when i started to flesh her out as an actual oc. i actually wasn't into ososan at the time and it was more a challenge of "how would I design an ososan oc Now now that im not 15 anymore", and i didn't pick her up again until february of this year when my BTAS hyperfixation started to fizzle out. the first drafts for keiko (then named hibari, which i changed since it was a bit too similar to one of my long-time ocs hikari) were drawn the same day i picked up yoshimi again. so she was both a day-one character and Not at the same time!

please ignore the poor lighting on these pictures.

i had a pretty strong Idea for what i wanted from keiko in terms of appearance at the start and a basic concept for her (a bit more bookish + "nerdy" than other ososan girls we've seen thus far), but I had a pretty hard time applying it to the design sensibilities of ososan. her first outfit was basically just uehara-san's outfit, and i struggled with rendering her curlier hair in the ososan style which made it look more goopy and awkward. i also wasn't quite sure what to do with her face yet.

still, i translated what i thought would be my final sketches for her and (then) yoshimi to digital, and from here I started to develop their designs at roughly the same time, sort of balancing them out and trying to make sure they look good together. i was proud of them for maybe 3 days before I decided i hated how they looked.

granted, there were a LOT of reasons for this; for one, I was color picking yanas skin tone for kiru, which didn't work well at ALL because he's way paler than it looks. but more than that I wasn't really referencing features that actual ososan characters had? so they looked more like strange fun house mirror imitations of ososan characters than anything else

see what i mean? they don't look right at all. but if you look closely you can sort of see me figuring out keikos hair!

a lot of the refining process when it came to getting to where we are now was just... referencing actual ososan characters. trying to make them feel more believable and like they could actually exist alongside the current ensemble. it was honestly more about them looking right in the style than anything else, since i like to stay pretty canon compliant in terms of design when it comes to fandom ocs-- I find that the limitations make me more creative!

for keiko specifically my main inspirations were nyaa and osoko, though i referenced dobusu's hair pretty frequently as well since they have roughly the same hair texture. she was honestly a lot harder than kiru to balance out in this sense, since i had to make sure she didn't look Too generic compared to the other pretty girls in the canon cast (i.e totoko, homura, etc). her more eccentric fashion sense is also an attempt to remedy this because plot twist! she's a weirdo!

ippei however I had down from day one. he's always looked the same and always will. my perfect creation <3

[teafromthemicrowave]

someone already wrote you a loveletter in regards of the ny-alt-band-polycule so why shouldnt i do it too? i have no shame left and a critically low level of common sense. and bad english. they're so gender. so beautiful. gorgeus. dashing even. I may not be goth but im still a massive synth and cold wave enjoyer and i spent a lot of time of my preteen and early teen years listening to random shitsongs recorded on nokia and uploaded to yt to appreaciete (oh god its my 3rd attempt to write this word and every time it looks even less correct but i give up) your au. if you ever decide to write a fanfic with it or smth then i will send you my first son in gratitude. i love that john went from cunt in yellow to cunt in black. my eldritch being entered his emo teen phase and im so proud of him. he would rock corpse makeup and i know it. and aw, matching earrings. love it. arhtur. i want to say something normal but he gives me the vibe that he would try to give me radioactive brown sugar behind the milky bar in exchange to listen to his band. its a positive comment and also a reference to a polish band and their album about balls deep depression and addictions. very arthur core. i highly recomend it. OSCAR. im losing my mind. he looks just like i wanted to look like when i was 14 and incredibly fixated on vampires and gothic lit. his little hat. his little hat stays on during sex and i respect him for that. RED HAIRED METALHEAD NOEL. it may be the fact that i have soft spot for redhead metalheads or the fact that noel is my favourite character in malevolent but. but i need to stop rambling. because i dont know words in english to describe what i feel of his design. its simply perfect.

I hope that what i just wrote isnt too weird. Im not good with words.

my god this is awesome! I LOVE THESE ASKS SEEING YOU GUYS RAMBLE ABOUT MY BELOVED GOTH MEN. i cant YOUR THOUGHTS ON ALL OF THEM ARE PERFECT, ESPECIALLY ARTHUR AHBRUJWBI i am screaming in delight i love you guys

so don't worry, this wasn't weird at all. and. i can tell you. I started writing a fic two days ago and i am 3k words in. It might have multiple chapters even. THE LORE IS TOO MUCH FOR ONE

I AM SO HAPPY SO SO HAPPY. oahhhh the obsession with this au is real

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned For Better Chapter 20: We Will Never Go Back to That Bloodshed

Well everyone...we made it. It has taken nearly nine months but here we are. We are at the end of ARWBFB (save for the Epilogue). This has been one of my biggest undertakings and I am so so so proud of it. You guys have followed me through two board exams, applications, and so so so many different speciality rotations during this journey. You have been incredibly patient but also incredibly supportive. I NEVER could have finished it without you guys. I wanted to get this up sooner or at least on the 13th. I failed at both of those, but I hope you will understand when you see that this chapter is the longest by a significant amount. I am so proud of this fic, and I hope you all decide that it was worth giving your time to sharing with me.

The chapter title comes from The Great War. A fun fact would be that this line actually loops back to "we will never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover" with Crimson Clover being the title of chapter one. It's come full circle (save for the epilogue).

This chapter is designed like Chapter 4 was. Each segment is divided by a lyric that encapsulates the vibes. It is not as happy, but it is the start of happily ever after.

AO3

Masterpost

As always..this is for everyone who has helped me and loved me and supported this story. I cannot even tag everyone but I will try. A LARGE portion of this goes to @ohhowwehavefallen who has talked about MOST things that happen in this chapter with me in depth and has enabled me (VSC immortalized forever with this one, so is Cato buying the academy). @kentwells who actually helped me make major decisions regarding the sequel, which affected the way Marvel and Glimmer ended here. Thank you for putting up with me. @dukeysquid and @mackcoleslaw for the constant constant support. @clarascrabarmy who talks me off the ledge and is my go to night reader (and night validator that im crazy). @mollywog who has tolerated this fic for 9 months. @crookedlyniceperson who comes in with the memes EVERY single time. @cyansadnessI dont even get to talk to you much any more but you were an OG reader and I am giving you kisses for your love. There are so many more who I am afraid I may have missed (and I know I have missed) but i'm emotional and hormonal and crying as I type this.

This is, and always has been, for you guys who have given me your support and love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I never would have finished without the love and support of every single person who has read this.

Thank you.

How evergreen, our group of friends

The kitchen, despite the literal war that had raged on outside in District One, was quite literally untouched. Untouched, as in, no one had ever used it even prior to the games or the war that should have resolved the house itself to rubble. 

They had quickly discovered that despite varying levels of damage to the districts, the Victors Villages were left nearly untouched. Call it symbolism, call it fate, call it making a point, but this was not a fact any of the surviving victors were going to debate or question. 

For now they were all just going to be thankful to even have a place to live, especially one that wasn’t an underground bunker in a district that resented them. 

It’s Clove, who is opening and shutting every single cabinet in the bright white kitchen. The golden handles and marble countertops are pristine– perfect and completely new. Every drawer is completely stocked with spices and the same sorts of things her own home had come with, but it is evident that these cabinets had remained untouched from their initial stocking. There was no dusting of cinnamon around the pores of the bottle, no slight film of salt from pouring over a steaming pot. They were still perfectly alphabetized, perfectly aligned in the spice drawer, as if the kitchen itself was taken right out of a capitol home decor magazine. 

Funnily enough, though the kitchen was clearly new, it was so…Glimmer. Or at least the Glimmer she had been forced to become.  

Gorgeous white marble countertops, shimmering golden metal for every door handle and knob on every drawer. The utensils were a beautiful gold, and even the appliances were designed to blend right in with the shining and glamorous surroundings. 

In one drawer, she found incredibly sharp knives with mother of pearl handles, in another were soft baby pink pans. It was very much designed for the fifteen year old teenage girl who had won the house as part of her victor’s spoils.

Somehow, even without the Capitol’s influence, Clove still believes Glimmer would have turned out a golden, pink-loving girl. Or at least, it’s comforting to imagine it that way. 

Clove curls her fingers around the shimmering handle of one of the paring knives, bringing it to eye level to inspect it. The blade is alarmingly sharp for one designed to dice vegetables or carve into fruits, further supporting Clove’s suspicion that it had never been used prior to well, right now. She weighs it in her hand, feeling the way it settles in her palm. Her other hand comes to run over the couple of inches of metal, evaluating the quality. It was top of the line in terms of cooking, of course, nothing but the best for any victor, but it may even serve well in terms of slicing through-

She drops the knife, flinching only a little at the realization of how the metal colliding with the marble will dull the beautiful little blade. It startles her, not the sound of the metal on rock, no that any District Two girl could sleep through like a lullaby, but by the harsh realization of her own thoughts. She would likely never slice through anything but food again, there would be no more blood spitting on her from pulsing arteries, no more tendons severed. 

Clove would probably never kill anyone else ever again. The thought is both disconcerting and comforting, leaving Clove alarmed and settled.

“Are you okay?” A soft, sleepy voice asks from around the entrance to the kitchen. When Clove looks up she sees Glimmer, rubbing at her eyes with her long cream colored sleeves. She shuffles into the kitchen in fluffy white slippers, a sweater that reaches halfway down her legs, and exceptionally messy loose braids that tell Clove that yeah she probably did just wake up.

“Good morning, Princess.” Clove scoffs, gently grabbing the dropped knife and twisting it nimbly between her fingers. “It’s four in the afternoon, Glimmer. Did you have a busy night?” 

“I was with Cash and Gloss all night, we’re trying to figure out what to do about our parents.” Glimmer sits herself at the island continuing to rub at her eye with the heel of her hand, exhaustion written all across her pretty face. “I didn’t come back until this morning.” 

Clove flinches at her own insensitivity– while she was well used to being, well, alone. An orphan. On her own. Whatever, it was..new for the others. Cato’s family was still in the wind, but Glimmer and her siblings, as well as Marvel, were new to the world of being parentless. “God, Glimmer, I’m sorry–”

At least Glimmer had Cashmere and Gloss, the same could not be said for Marvel, who was the only surviving member of his entire family. Clove could easily relate to that, because even if anyone survived, they were dead to her long ago. 

Glimmer just nods her head, acknowledging but not verbally accepting the apology her friend offers. 

Nothing had been necessarily right between the four of them since the vote. Cato and Clove, they were perfectly fine, of course. Marvel however had lost any progress he had made with Glimmer, and Cato nor Clove had yet to fully return to her good graces. It wasn’t even like any of them could blame her for being mad. She had been right. 

“Thanks for letting us stay with you.” She decides, instead filling the space between them with gentle words of appreciation. “Like..literally in your house with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that.. It’s nice not to be alone.” Glimmer sighs, resting her chin on her hand and looking across the island to Clove, who is still twisting a knife in her hand. “I don’t know if i’m quite ready to be alone yet.”

They weren’t necessarily far from anyone. Marvel spent the days over here with them, Brutus was in one of the empty houses, Cash and Gloss each in their own and then Enobaria was– “Is Enobaria staying across the street in the empty one or down the road–”

Glimmer cocks an eyebrow, the littlest smirk making an appearance on her face. “She’s staying with my sister.”

“Oh!” Clove looks nearly taken aback as she opens another drawer, absently sorting through the perfect, unused cutting boards and kitchen aids to distract herself from the awkward tension between her and her host. “I didn’t know they were even friends.”

“Girl..” Glimmer giggles, leaning in closer on the island, nearly pressing her upper body into the marble. “You know Enobaria and Cashmere are..” She makes a gesture with her middle and pointer finger that Clove can’t interpret, and the confused look on her freckled face must convey that to the blonde girl.  “Right?”

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Do I need to spell it out for you, Clove? They’re fucking. They’re a thing.”

“What! No, I mean just because they’re staying together doesn’t mean–” The heat in Clove’s cheeks at the realization leaves her flustered, and flustered is not a look Clove wears well. 

“Well that's what everyone thinks about the four of us.” Glimmer teases, before bringing her hand out infront of her to inspect the remnants of her nails. “Seriously. They’ve been a thing for like…god Cash won sixty-four? So… ten…ish years? Probably? I dunno. But it’s not a secret. I’m shocked you couldn’t tell.”

“Well I didn’t see them together much, okay? And noone thinks that the four of us are all fucking, Glimmer. That’s crazy Capitol type shit.” Clove defends, desperately looking through the drawers for a change of topic. Maybe she could understand why Enobaria got so irritated when ever she and Cato got caught–

Yep. Okay. Makes sense!

“Sure they don’t Clove, you don’t see the looks people give us?”

Clove digs through the drawers, finding the still boxed mixer and the perfect white plates, nothing seeming even a little out of place. She is flustered and the heat in her neck and face won’t even allow her to respond to such comments. 

“For fucks sake, Glimmer, have you used anything in this kitchen.”

“Drawer closest to the refrigerator has two little plates and two forks. We used to …uh…we would eat a lot of cake.” Glimmer finds herself grabbing at the skin around her nail with her teeth, tugging at the cuticles until they ripped off. She couldn’t resist the urge to constantly be picking at and degrading something about her body, and right now her nails were all she had access to.  “Other than that, not really.”

“How did you survive, Glimmer? Seriously?” Clove rests a hand on the back of her hip, strumming along the top of her hip while also trying to massage out some of the pain of her lower back that never seemed to go away. 

“Well, everything I ate was precooked and preweighed, I had to keep a certain look you know?” Glimmer shrugs, kicking her feet just a little at the height of the chair, twisting just ever so slightly to keep herself comfortable. “I wasn’t really allowed to go beyond that. Cooking was never important.”

“You’re gonna have to learn to make something Glimmer, especially if you ever have kids–” Clove teases, but the biting response of Glimmer wipes the smile right off of her face. 

“I told you in the Capitol I'm not doing that. I’m never doing that. I don’t want to.” Glimmer snaps before she pushes herself out of the chair so she can make a quick escape if the conversation goes any further south. 

“You used to, I’m sorry, Glimmer. That's who I knew you as. The girl who wanted to settle into her life and be someone’s mother. And for what it’s worth, Glim Glam, I think you’d have been good at it.” Clove puts a hand up in defense, before she awkwardly goes back to going through the remaining cabinets, stopping prior to the refrigerator and pantry.

 She pauses, and turns to face her friend. She gives a heavy sigh, bracing herself on the counter behind her, when she begins.

 “I’m sorry. I am. About the vote. You were right, and as soon as you pulled me into that room– I knew you were right. About his sister and about our friends’ kids and everything. I just wanted to feel like some wrong was made right, Glimmer. It wasn’t going to be me back in the games, and I wanted them to feel what it was like. But then you mentioned Cora, and god knows if she’s alive, but if she is she couldn’t ever go to the games. Or Finnick’s kids, or yours or– I don’t know. All of a sudden it wasn’t just like..nameless kid tributes. It was people we knew. It was kids we knew. It was little girls who looked like you and little red heads in four and! It was kids we love or will love and– you were right. And I’m sorry.”

There is a stunned silence for a few seconds that feels like years to Clove, as Glimmer looks at her with the look of a doe caught in the lights of a car. 

“....thank you.” Glimmer whispers in response, but something palpable has finally shifted between them. Whatever permafrost had threatened to take hold on the boundaries of their friendship started to melt away in that moment. Maybe not a heat wave, but a start. “I…thank you, Clove.”

Clove gives Glimmer another once over as they stand staring at each other. The months of this war had taken a toll on Clove of course, evidenced by the aches in her body and the scars along her skin. Her scars would fade, as her bruises had, and even the pain isn’t visible. On the outside Clove still looked almost exactly like she always had. 

On Glimmer though, the changes were blatant. The golden glow of her skin was long gone, replaced by pale, nearly gray undertones. That long platinum hair was longer than ever, but now revealed multiple inches of a honey blonde natural color that had been hidden since before she even won the games. Even the actual structure of her face and body had changed. Any capitol enhancement had long since grown out or metabolized away, leaving Glimmer with deep collar bones and sinking skin on her cheeks. 

She looked exhausted but she also looked starved. She looked sick. 

“Glimmer…you look hungry.” Clove gives her a look that must be riddled with pity, for the blonde looks away and at her hands instead. “Will you please let me make you something? I know there probably isn’t much in here but I can send the boys out…” B

Before Glimmer can argue or decline, Clove swings the door open to what she expected to be a barren refrigerator and is taken back by the fully stocked fridge that awaits her. 

Well. Full. And Stocked. Maybe not with actual kitchen staples or ingredients for meals, but definitely full. 

“What in the fuck–”

“Marvel does that sometimes. And Cato’s been talking nonstop about your cooking for literal months. They went yesterday, I think. I..don’t think either of them knew what they were doing but they’ve got the spirit. They mean well.,” Glimmer explains, not bothering to put up a fight with Clove and deny her this opportunity. Even if she didn’t eat it– Cato and Marvel sure fucking would.  This was their new Hunger Games.

“Good intentions…that's why there’s seventeen tomatoes?” Clove raises an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile gracing her face as she surveys the fridge. Sure it was a little..odd.. Seventeen tomatoes, three bags of flour, at least fifty eggs, a dozen heads of garlic… odd but good intentioned nonetheless. “I’m going to guess they wanted pasta?”

“That sounds right. I think I heard Cato saying something about that, but they lost me when I heard them trying to remember if onions and garlic are the same thing.” Glimmer shrugs, but finds herself going back to sit at the island, no longer on the verge of running out of the kitchen at any moment. 

Clove starts grabbing armfuls of the tomatoes to transfer them to the countertop, feeling the soft flesh of one under her fingertips. She probably wouldn’t even need the chef’s knife, but damn if she wasn’t going to take the opportunity to use it. “Do you have a big- you know what, nevermind.”  

She decides against asking for a stock pot, knowing fully well Glimmer would have no idea what she was talking about. Instead, she rummages through the cabinets until she does in fact find a blush pink soup pot practically bigger than Clove herself.  She immediately sets herself to gently slicing the skin off of the tomatoes, delighting in the way the acidic juice dripped down over her fingers.

“You should give him a chance, Glimmer, he’s a good guy.” Clove suggests, tossing each individual skinned tomato into the giant pink pot one at a time. 

“I’m not the one not interested, Clove, you know that.” Glimmer reminds her bitterly, reaching forward to attempt to grab a tomato, dropping it when the acid in the juice burns the raw skin around her nails. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Now that isn’t true and you know it. You two seemed fine and then the vote happened and you shut him down again.” Clove points out, turning to the cabinet behind her to grab her selection of the endless array of unused spices. “Which, I get it, you were hurt–”

“He can’t just make my trauma a personal vendetta, Clove. He can’t advocate for slaughtering babies in an arena under the name of defending me and the things that happened to me.” Glimmer hops off the chair once again, this time letting herself scope out the refrigerator and whatever the hell the boys had come up with to fill it with. 

“It happened to him, too, Glimmer. Maybe not as much as it did to you. But it happened to him, too.” Clove collects salt and sugar and various other jars of spices she currently can’t name but knows for some reason she needs to add them. “Glim. Sometimes we care more about avenging the people we love, rather than actually doing what's right. The things that are done to people you love..sometimes that's just worse.” 

“You don’t know what it’s like, Clove. To be seen as the girl who fucks everyone. Whether I wanted to or not. And trust me, I didn’t want to. And no matter how hard I try, for the rest of my life, that is how everyone is going to see me. Do you know what the best part of all this is, Clove? That I never have to be seen in public ever again.” She filters through the fruit– half a dozen containers of strawberries, a single mango, an entire box of blueberries– before letting herself grab a single blueberry for a snack. 

“We don’t see you that way, you know? Not me, not Cato, and god Glimmer you know Marvel doesn’t either.”  Clove assures, using the palm of her hand to measure out the various herbs and spices she’s tossing in. There’s no recipe– she’s just doing what feels right. Such is the theme for all aspects of their lives right now.  “And you never have to do that again. Hell, never have sex again at all for all I care, obviously I do but–”

“Yeah, Clove, I know. We share a wall. The wall your bed is on.” 

“Oh! Right! Well.. anyway!” Clove fakes a grimace and mouths ‘sorry’ before she places a lid on her creation. “Come on. Let's go find the boys, then I'll show you how to make the pasta.”

“I think they’re laying in the yard.” Glimmer waves off, before grabbing another handful of berries to pop into her mouth.

“They’re…laying in the yard?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, confusion mapped across her face. “Are they dogs?”

“Something about missing grass and fresh air in Thirteen, I don’t know, I could hear them through the window.” Glimmer shakes her head, but stands in the doorway of the refrigerator. “Do you need anything out of here?”

“They’re fucking weird.” Clove clears off a workspace to knead and roll out the pasta, recognizing that this is probably the first time these counters have been used for anything ever. “uh yeah I need eggs and flour… Honestly, I usually make Cato come do this part because I like to watch his hands knead the dough but…let them…become one with nature or whatever they’re out there doing.”

“Why do you need flowers in noodles? I didn’t think you could eat those?” Glimmer cocks her head, holding out the cardboard carton of a dozen eggs to her, but pausing with a perplexed look on her face as she searches the refrigerator for a bouquet of some sort. “I can go check the garden–”

“What? No Glimmer, Flour not flowers.” Clove wipes her hands on the side of her shirt– Cato’s shirt, actually–, and comes next to her friend to point at the various bags on the bottom shelf. “It’s like..it’s white powder, I can’t explain it. It makes bread. Noodles. Cookies… pizza. It makes all the good stuff you probably don’t eat. But we are going to change that.” 

There are a few moments of  silence, as Clove measures things. It’s nearly peaceful, with the only sounds coming from the dough being flopping and kneaded into the marble. 

Silent, that is, until Glimmer finally breaks. 

“Thank you for staying with me.” Glimmer manages to get out, when tears Clove didn’t even know were coming just start pouring out of her friend. “I-i’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, I don’t want to be alone yet.”

Clove pauses her hand folding, brushing her flour covered hands on her shirt before she rests her elbows on the counter, leaning in to truly hear her friend. “Glimmer, you aren’t going to be alone forever.”

“But I am! Yeah, Cash and Gloss are here but..they aren’t here. My parents are gone. You and Cato are going to go home, I don’t want to be alone yet.” Glimmer sobs, furiously wiping at her eyes with her sleeves, Mascara from god knows when smearing along them. “Noone wants a girl that everyone has had, at least not for more than a night, Clove! I’m alone and when i’m alone I just..I swear it’s like someone’s going to come in and they’re going to touch me and they’re going to hurt me and–”

“You’re scared.” Clove realizes, and her heart completely and utterly shatters for the girl. She sees her not as the twenty something girl in front of her, but instead a scared fifteen year old victor she never got to grow out of being. “It’s okay to be scared, but no one's going to hurt you anymore.” She nearly reaches for her hand, she nearly reaches to do anything to comfort her, but something tells her that sudden touch is the furthest thing from what Glimmer needs right now. 

“Someone is always ready to hurt me, Clove. It’s all anyone wants out of me. Noone wants me but they all want me. I just think about all the things they’ve done to me, Clove. How many times they’ve shot me up with something or gave me a handful of pills and just told me to swallow them. Who knows what they’ve done to me…” Glimmer cries, hot tears tracking down her face and onto the fabric of her sleeves. They speckle her sweater, soaking into the cream colored fabric and turning it dark. The levee has broken within Glimmer, and the rushing waves of grief cannot be stopped. “When I won..my sister and brother used to sleep down here. So when I wake up screaming they could come up to me. And then in the Capitol I was NEVER alone and as soon as I was…Cash would come in. She’d hold me, tell me how sorry she was that she let me become a victor, that she didn’t stop me from trying to go to the games. And then, god, once I had Marvel, he practically moved in and he slept me and I actually felt safe. I could sleep. Even back when we were just friends…he’d let me sleep in his room in the Capitol, he was never touchy or pushy or anything. He just let me sleep and sometimes he’d hold me and it was the best sleep I had since I won.”  Glimmer wipes at the tears  again, ignoring how messy she had to look right now. It was her own kitchen and really what did she have left to lose? Glimmer rambles on,  “And you two are here and so I try to sleep and it isnt working as well as it used to and in thirteen I was so afraid every time I heard someone was in the hall that they were going to come in and —“

“When was the last time you slept, Glimmer? Actually slept?” Clove eases, sliding her a dish towel to use to clear the tears from her eyes. “You have to be exhausted.”

“Probably the games, funny enough. Weird that I felt safe enough there but- it is what it is. I tried in Thirteen! And here! it’s just…I can still feel their hands on my skin a-and feel them breathing on my neck and hear their voices and the sound of their feet coming to get me. If I fall asleep they’re there taunting me and grabbing me and-and-and!“ Glimmer  continues to recount her nightmares and real life horrors, her breath catching in her throat and coming out in heaving, panicked, desperate gasps. “I just don’t see what the point of all this was. I don’t have anyone and I’m terrified in my own house and my parents are gone and what did I survive it all for if I’m going to be alone?” 

“You aren’t going to be alone. You aren’t, and you can stay with someone or something but, God Glimmer. Out of all of us, all of the things we have gone through, you Glimmer deserve a happy ending. You deserve to feel safe and loved and god, Glimmer, you deserve to be happy.” Clove finally grabs at her arm, gently squeezing her forearm. “You are safe, Glimmer. And no one gets to hurt you ever again. I promise, Glimmer. You are going to be happy.”

Glimmer…does not learn how to make pasta that day. 

Ten minutes of egg and flour stuck to her fingers is enough to send her back to the verge of tears and back to a safe distance away where she instead watches only. 

Once the dough is chilling and the sauce is stewing, they retreat to the living area, sprawled out on the baby pink couches. 

They sit in comfortable silence while the sauce cooks, Glimmer curled up on the foot of the couch, Clove outstretched on the other end with a book of District One history spread out in her lap. 

It’s peaceful. Comfortable. Safe. 

When Clove notices the Glimmer has fallen asleep, she grabs the fur  throw blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over her friend. Never in her life had she planned to care for some random victor girl from District One, with enough trauma and abuse in her short life for all of them combined, but here she was. War, she supposed, changed the way you see the world. 

She doesn’t even need to call the boys in for dinner like a mother calling for her kids to come in at sundown, because like the bloodhounds men tend to be, they all but run through the glass back door like the children they never got to be once the smell of dinner reaches the outdoors. 

“Clove? Clove, are you cooking? Do I smell food?” Marvel slips in the door first, literally just edging Cato out to get in before him. “Holy mother of god, that's food. I can SMELL the spice, there's salt in it isn’t there. You’re a fucking saint.”

“You’re a moron.” Cato rolls his eyes, but pushes Marvel out of the way just so he can beat him to the island. “…there is salt and stuff right?”

“You’re also a moron.” It’s Clove’s turn to roll her eyes instead, as she fishes a single pasta noodle out of the water to try it. “If i remember correctly you did talk about my cooking every day for weeks…”

“Months.” Glimmer chimes in as she makes her appearance. It’s only been a couple of hours since she fell asleep on the couch but even the brief nap has her looking noticeably better and more rested. “Every day for months.”

Clove catches Glimmer (but not Cato) off guard with how fast she moves when she reaches out to grab Marvel’s wrist as he goes to dip a spoon into the sauce. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Clove, I'm serious,this is the best moment I've had in months, let me have this. I need something good in my life.” Marvel half pleads, and the tired tone in his voice paired with the exhaustion behind his eyes is all that it takes before Clove is releasing his wrist and turning away. 

“Do NOT go in twice, I will cut off your fingers.” She threatens and has to nearly slap Cato’s fingers away from the pasta noodles where they are cooling. “You two are like fucking children.”

“Oh my god.” Comes from Marvel, but it sounds somewhere between a cry and a gasp. “Clove this is the best thing i’ve had-maybe ever. Maybe that's the war trauma but-” Ignoring her threats he risks it for another dip, and then steps immediately a few steps out of her reach. “Can you stay here? Seriously, can we keep you? Cato you can stay too, if that helps.” 

Marvel slides to the other side of the island, safely out of reach of all three of them as he debates just dipping a coffee cup and drinking the sauce. “For fucks sake, Cato, kiss her. Or Glimmer, you do it. I don’t care. One of you..just..appreciate her.”

“I’ll still kill you.” Cato warns, but he is slightly distracted by the handfuls of fresh pasta he is dropping into his mouth. “Clove is very appreciated, thank you very themuch.”

“.....are you crying?” Glimmer leans onto the counter, propping her chin in her hand as she outright smirks at her once boyfriend. There's the spark of light behind her eyes that Snow had snuffed out long ago starting to glow just a little again. 

“No!” Marvel defends himself indignantly, but they all hear the sniffle and the stifled“......maybe a little.”

I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home

Two months after their initial arrival in One, at the end of the second great war, after months of Clove feeding them, many tears from Glimmer at their goodbye, and promises of continued communication under the new mechanisms and options– phones communications, along with travel between districts, were allowed once again– Clove, Cato, Brutus, and Enobaria were on their train home. 

Maybe it was irony, or maybe it was fate, but they take the incredibly short trip home on the same train they had come to the Capitol on in their prior games. Neither had ever noticed how the high speed trains went from One to Two in under half an hour, but then again, why would they have paid attention when they were young invincible victors with the entire world at their fingertips?

Still, even a twenty seven minute train ride feels like absolute eternity when you do not know what waits for you on the other end. 

She is sitting as she always has on these trips– curled up with her back against his chest, settled between his legs, head resting on his shoulder. Her fingers snake up to where his arm is resting on the back of the couch, and she laces her fingers in with his. 

Clove sighs as her eyes flutter shut, choosing not to watch the passage of destroyed buildings, burned farms, and mass civilian graves.  There was a time in her life where no amount of bloodshed or the loss of life made her bat an eye— it was what they were trained for— but now…something about it made her stomach turn. 

“It doesn’t feel like we’re going home.” Cato mumbles into the crown of her head, sliding his other hand firmly around her waist and holding her tighter to him. “It doesn’t feel like we even have one.”

“I don’t think we do.” Clove twists in his arms just a little so that she can see his face and languidly brings her free hand up to graze along his jawline. “I mean, we have a house, but I don’t think anyone will want to see us. Exiled to Victor’s Village ..” Her nails scratch along the planes of his skin gently, as she cranes her neck back to really look at him. 

She has spent over half of her life looking at him, learning with him, and ultimately the last six loving him. Looking at him now, though, it’s almost like seeing him through new eyes. 

Scars that the capitol would never take from him along his arms from retraining, golden blonde hair that had grown out enough it reached nearly to his eyelashes, the brightest sky blue eyes that harbored exhaustion far beyond that of a twenty one year old man. 

And yet. It almost felt new to look at this man right now, in the same position on the same train they had been in time and time again. 

It was new to see him in a world without The Hunger Games. 

In a world where they would not wake up day to day to train the next class of tribute children, a world where they would not mentor victor and victor to parade home with pride to their district. A world where they would not raise their own children to volunteer for the games, where they would sacrifice them with a smile on their faces for the glory of being the parents of their own victor child, or pretend it did not shatter them to lose that same glorified baby to the games because they wouldn’t want to raise anything less than ideal little victors. 

There was a version of them, somewhere, that dedicates the rest of their lives to the Hunger Games. 

This is not that version of them. Not anymore. 

Maybe it is because she knows what the life of a victor truly holds now. She learned in the confessions of Finnick, in the strangled screams of Glimmer in the middle of the night. She learned in the stories of Johanna, in the depravity of Haymitch. She learned in the desperation of Katniss, the destruction of Peeta. She learned of it in the loss of her mother. 

She learns of a different life of a Victor, now. In the disapproving, but secretly adoring, looks from Enobaria when Cato carries her across a room. In the appreciative murmurs of Brutus, when he has pancakes with chocolate chips before him. In the updates on Annie’s growing family, in Marvel’s silly, stupid, but nonetheless endearing jokes. 

Above all else she learns of it in the love of Cato, who saw her at the lowest shell of herself, and loved her even still. 

Cato raises an eyebrow at her, shaking her just a little. “You’re thinking of something.” It’s his turn to bring a hand to her face, unwinding from her waist so he can tilt her chin up to meet his eyes more properly. “The corners of your lips twitch when you’re thinking too hard.”

Clove smiles gently, allowing the corners of her mouth to come to a soft grin. “I was just thinking about the last time we were on this particular train. On our way to the Quell. I didn’t think we’d be on our way back like this.”

“I also thought we were only leaving that arena in pine boxes. I didn’t think I’d be coming home. I never thought we’d come home together alive. ”  He nods, looking past her rather than at her as he recollects the feelings and emotions of that day, leaving their district for what they expected to be the last time. Their days were numbered, or so they had every reason to believe. 

For the first time, maybe in the entirety of their short lives, that was no longer the case. 

Clove stretches both her arms out to wrap them behind his neck, relaxing fully and truly into his arms. “Is it crazy to say it feels like we won?”

The station is barren and silent when the train stops. There is no great crowd to welcome home the newest victor this time, no officials to celebrate them. 

And yet, when the four of them are back on the train platform,  surrounded by the rubble of what was once the greatest district in the country, there has never been a sweeter homecoming. 

My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

The walk home is harrowing. Two months of cleanup had barely touched the majority of the evidence of the violence, especially along the bases of the mountain, where the various villages had to stack their dead. Slowly but surely they had been transported back to their towns to properly be buried under the traditions of each of the different villages.

That, of course, was just for the bodies that had even been recovered. 

Nearly half of District Two’s population was unaccounted for, and reconstruction efforts had only barely begun to move the piles of rocks that represent the rubble of what was once towering buildings and neighborhoods full of homes. 

The true carnage of the war, the gravity of the loss in this district alone was yet to be understood and tallied. Cato cannot say a word on the walk home, as every time he thinks about the bodies of his parents and sister rotting away under the ash of two, his throat feels like it is going to close on him. Clove by extension says nothing either, only threading her arm around his, holding that same arm with her other hand. There are no words to negate the pain of loss, to ease the ache of the unknown. 

The gate to Victor’s Village is somehow perfectly intact, and from what they can see beyond, so are the pristine lines of ornate houses. A layer of ash covers the ground like fallen snow, and the air feels unseasonably cold up here. It is as if the ghosts of the victors, the families, all of the dead haunt these gates, encasing them in a blanket of melancholy as a reminder that they are the survivors yet again. 

The chill especially wraps around Clove, sending an ache deep to her joints, a reminder that while she is a survivor, she was a victim, too. They have survived but they do not come home unscathed, they do not come home the victors they left as. 

There are lights on in the two houses across the street from their own, and the reminder of life of their mentors is one of the only calming thoughts they can cling to.The rest of the houses sit empty, stale air circulating through them with no victors left to call them home. There is no evidence that there was once life in these houses, no shoes on the porch, no watering cans in the yards. Just like that what was once the fullest victors village has become a ghost town. 

The decision to come back had not been an easy one. District One was in a far better condition, and frankly, none of them were quite ready for life on their own after so much time relying on each other for company and sanity during the war. They didn’t even really have motivation to come back– what did they have waiting behind for them. Eventually the announcement came – much to the dismay of many many many citizens– that the surviving Victors would continue to receive monthly stipends (albeit not near as much as pre-war days) as reparation for the torture and violence inflicted on them at the hands of the prior government  ever since their victory. It made it easier to know that upon their return they weren’t going to have to assimilate into societal roles (and for Glimmer, the real relief came that she would never have to work in retail in one). 

Ultimately, the decision to come back was their own. This place, despite the horrors, the violence, the brutality…it was their home. Maybe it was those things that made it home. 

They stand in the charred grass at the very edge of their yard, Clove with her head resting against his body, Cato running his hand over her arm in an attempt to warm her body to ward off the ghosts of pain that the cold brings on. He rests his head on top of hers as they look at the grandiosity of the home they left behind, still frozen in time, as a relic of the time they were eighteen and in love, feeling invincible. 

“Hey…babe?” Cato wrinkles his brows together, lifting his head from atop hers. “Do you have a key?”

Well of course they didn’t have a key– it wasn’t like they had considered leaving one under the doormat on their way to their certain deaths. 

“Fuck.” Clove laughs against his arm, burying her face in the dark wool of his coat. Her laugh is contagious to him, and he’s shaking his head with a laugh not too long after her. Out of all the obstacles that should have kept them from ever crossing the threshold of their home again, they had not thought to anticipate a key being one. 

She flashes him a playful smirk, raising her eyebrows teasingly. “Are we going to break into our own house?”

Sure, Cato could probably just go through the front door. Of course with the current state of Two, that door would not be replaced because a couple of kids broke into their own house. 

“We left the bedroom window unlocked.” Cato reminds her, catching her off guard as he grabs her by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. “I mean.. I hope we left the window unlocked.”

Clove nearly shrieks as she ends up in the air, his hands giving taunting pinches on the very top of her thighs as he fully carries her to the back yard. The grass is overgrown in some places, burnt in others, Clove notices as she stares at the ground from her place on his shoulder.

Cato surprises Clove again when he flips her from his shoulder to his arms, one hand under her knees and the other under her shoulders as he cradles her against him. “Okay. You’re going in.”  

It’s not even surprising how easily he lifts her to a standing position on his hands, how he can push her towards the bedroom window with such ease. All that to say, Clove's short arms and legs do not make it any easier, with her fingertips barely able to reach the window screen to pry it off. When she does she sends it flying down behind her, and only from the groan she hears from Cato can she tell it hit him. It is using all the dexterity of her little fingers that she is able to slide the window up and open.

“Got it!” Clove calls down to him, and lightly twists her ankle in his palm. “You gotta throw me a little.”

“I can’t throw you through the window–” Cato scoffs, shaking his head adamantly. “No way in hell.”

“Cato I can’t reach, You need to just give me a little boost-”

“A little boost i’m already holding you above my head–” 

“Cato! A little toss!” Clove insists, jolting her foot with a little annoyance. “I’m serious, we need to get in–”

“Fine! But if you bust your face open don’t blame me.” Cato grumbles, and grabs her by the bottom of her shoes. “Okay, ready?”

Clove nods, already bracing her hands on either side of the window. When he gives her the little bit of a toss (more than a little, considering the strength he doesn’t even realize he exerts sometimes), Clove is able to flip in through the window. 

All Cato can hear is a slight scream from his wife as she tumbles into the house.

“Clove…babe…you alright?” Cato calls up, an edge of panic infiltrating his cool tone.  “Baby…”

Clove appears in the window, resting her elbows on the window ledge as she smiles down at him with a coy smirk. “You look like you’re here to beg me to sneak out.”

“If I remember correctly it was me who had the house first..” Cato responds to her smirk with his own, running a hand over the side of his hair. “Will you let me in? I didn’t throw you through the window just so I could still break down the door.”

“Patience, patience, Cato.” Clove teases, but the smile on her face could keep Cato going for the rest of his life. “I’m coming, meet you out front.”

Cato beats her to the front door. Patience has never been his strength, and frankly, it’s fucking cold and she is taking a weirdly long amount of time before she comes down. “Clove open the door, I'm not playing around.” 

When the door does swing open to Clove, somehow already changed into one of his shirts and one of his shirts only, she greets him with a dark smirk, looking up at him from thick lashes. “Welcome home.”

The thin layer of dust that covers every surface in their house is a problem for another time.

Later…after.. Clove sits between his legs in the bath, the water as hot as they can possibly get it, soothing every ache in the crooks of her spine. His fingers trace imaginary shapes over the back of her hand, her head against his chest and shoulder. Hot water had been one of the biggest losses in Thirteen. Clove had imagined this particular moment for months. So much so that it was the first- well…second– thing they did once they were back in their home. 

Their names were still carved into the bedpost, their laundry still in pre-sorted piles on the bathroom floor.  Clove’s skin yearns for the softness of the clean sheets they had left behind (though maybe they were not so clean with the dust and ash layer on every surface). In the morning, Clove will treat herself to tea with the rest of the honey in the cabinet above the sink and to the left. 

“You know, I think Enobaria had the spare key.” Cato realizes with his lips on Clove’s neck, and he deserves the light smack to the side of his head once he says it.

“I do not want to think about Enobaria right now, thank you very much.” Clove mumbles, tilting her neck so he can have more more more as she feels his other hand wrapping around her waist and sliding lower. 

“We made it home, sweetheart.” Cato kisses into the skin of her neck, pulling her somehow even closer. “We’re home.”

“We are home.” Clove repeats, but the emphasis she places changes the meaning of the statement. Yes, they are home. But they are home. 

He is hers and she is his. 

They are home. 

And If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still around. 

Home is not as idyllic as they may have remembered, but it was home. 

The thunderstorms that once lulled her to sleep, jolted her awake with a racing heart. The sound of rain no longer rain, but too identical to the distant sound of bombs in their homeland.  When she ends up sitting on the porch in the middle of the night, forcing herself to face it, she is always joined by a heavy blanket being draped around her shoulders, and Cato sitting wordlessly beside her. What they don’t know is that in a district not too far away, another girl screams herself awake from nightmares of the past, and is joined by the innocent affection of a man who slides into bed next to her only to sleep, who holds her only with the intention to comfort her while expecting nothing in return. 

The cold hurts more than she imagined it would. It is not just the recollection of nearly freezing to death that frightens her anymore, it is the pain in her body. Their home is somehow always chilly, her wrists and shoulders and back always aching fiercely. Cato knows her, he has her entire life, and is always adamant to add another blanket to the bed or turn up the heat even when it leaves him himself sweating. 

Brutus and Enobaria still let themselves in multiple days a week for breakfast.

A few weeks into their return, a knock on their front door long before breakfast startles them both. He’s sitting at the kitchen island admiring the concentration on her face as she carves into something she will undoubtedly transform into something fantastic in an hour or so. 

“Who comes to see us?” Clove raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from her task before her. “Enobaria and Brutus have never knocked, and you know Glimmer and Marvel couldn’t be awake this early..”

“They’ll leave.” Cato shrugs, reaching out a hand to nab some of the intricately carved strawberries Clove had already finished with. “Ignore it.”

The knocking only increases in frequency and volume, and Cato rolls his eyes as he pushes himself away. “I’ll get rid of them.”

Clove can’t wipe away the smirk that rises as she watches him walk away, all shirtless with sweatpants slung so low on his hips that it wouldn’t take much effort from her when he comes back to–

She hears the door swing open but does not hear him scare anyone off with a threat, nor does she hear anything at all. “Babe?” Clove calls out behind him, wiping off the blade of her knife with a towel before she lays it down on her cutting board. “Cato?” She calls again, quickly covering the distance from the kitchen to the front door. Cato isn’t even in the doorway, and Clove doesn’t know why that makes her heart race.

Once she makes it to the door, to see what is waiting on the porch, her heart fully stops. 

Wrapped around Cato’s torso are the long baby limbs of his baby sister, little arms clinging around his neck, long blonde curls covering where her face is absolutely buried in his neck. He’s got both arms around the girl, one hand holding her head to his shoulder.  Immediately to his left, with her hand on his arm, is his mother. War was unkind to her, as the woman Clove once looked up to and yearned to emulate in some ways looked more fragile than ever. 

“Hi Clove, Honey.”  Cato’s mother greets her with an exhausted, bone tired smile. There is a lack of light in those blue eyes, a sorrow Clove hopes never to imagine. 

Clove furrows her eyebrows, tilting her head just a little and it is enough of a question for the older woman to perceive it.  

His mother takes in a sharp breath and shakes her head very quickly in the negative and it is all Clove needs to see to know that this is it, this is all that remains of Cato’s family. A mother and a sister.  

“I missed you, so so much kiddo.” Cato whispers to the girl, gently running his hand over the back of her head over and over again. 

Clove steps forward and gently places a hand on the taller woman’s arm, ever so slightly squeezing. “I’m so sorry.” 

The blonde woman presses her lip together and nods, taking her arm off of her son and instead wrapping them around Clove in a hug. “I’m glad to see you again. I don’t think he would have survived it without you.” 

“I wouldn’t have either.” Clove admits, allowing herself to squeeze a little tighter to the woman, analyzing her change in body structure. 

“He’s been gone a long time.” His mother informs them both, patting Clove’s cheek gently before she goes back to wrap her son and little daughter in her arms. 

“Where have you been?” Cato gets out, his voice nearly cracking as he looks down on his mother. “Where did you go?”

“We’ve just been on the move, huh baby?” His mom brushes Cora’s little arm, pulling her attention from where she is hiding in her brother’s arms. “We have just moved constantly, no one could catch us if they didn’t know where we were.”

“Is home…” Cato starts, unable to force the rest of the words out into the world. 

“Gone. long gone.” His mother explains, as Cora raises her head and latches eyes with Clove. 

“You can stay in my house.” Clove immediately offers out, waving slightly at Cora. “Hi, sunshine.”

Immediately Cora lifts her little blonde head and practically wriggles out of Cato’s arms, nearly running into her once she has her little feet on the ground. With his arms free Cato wraps his arms fully around his mother in a hug, and Clove can see the way he melts into his mother;s arms like a little boy

Clove initially wants to kneel to Cora’s level, to become eye to eye with her. However, this six year old child is nearly to her shoulder’s already, and Clove is taken back by how tall this little girl has become. “You’ve gotten so big!”

“I’m as tall as you!” She cheers, and this bright angel of a child wraps her arms around her sister in law. “I missed you, Clove.”

“We missed you too, Cora Jade.” Clove promises, leaning down just a little to kiss the top of her head. “I think you’re going to stay in the house next to us for a little while!” She can no longer scoop her up, with how tall and gangly she has become in the last year. Clove tries anyway, scooping Cato’s sister to sit on her hip despite the fact they are nearly the same size. Cora immediately relaxes against her, and somehow, some way, Clove feels like something deep inside her relaxes with relief, too. 

And though I can’t recall your face, I’ve still got love for you 

For kids who had been trained to kill, who have taken lives, they were more surrounded by death than ever before. They hadn’t expected the influx of funeral services and war memorials they would be expected to attend. 

His father had of course been the most painful, with the heart broken sobs of his baby sister, asking when she’d see her daddy again. It was devastating for Cato, too, who had to learn how to be an adult man in a world without games without his father to guide him. The loss had hit him harder than he dared to admit. 

At the end of what felt like the tenth funeral service they felt obligated to attend, this one of an old classmate and her younger sister, while Cato played nice with another ex-classmate Clove found herself wandering to a part of the cemetery that she had never allowed herself to cross into. 

It was sacred ground, really, treated with utmost respect. Perfect lines of simple limestone grave markers stretched in perfect lines of 25, save for the last row. No tribute came home to be buried from seventy five. The victors, they were in a separate area even still, with lavish, over the top headstones. But here, in a well maintained corner of the District Two cemetery, rest every single tribute who did not make it to victor status. 

The boy from her games did not even have solid grass on top of his grave plot yet, and the ceaseless bombing did nothing to aid in that process. The girl from Cato’s games is a little further grown over, with a thin but respectable layer of fresh grass that grows in all directions. She can remember some of the others, mildly. The boy who lost against Glimmer, the girl who Johanna took out. 

It is not her own peers, though, that interests Clove. 

She weaves through years and years of games, of either single or double headstones from every single Hunger Games, from 75 to 62, and finally to the one she had avoided the entirety of her life. 

Six feet below her feet was the remaining body of Sevina Kentwell, being the closest Clove has been to her mother in nearly eighteen years. 

It is a simple marker, like all of the others. With the name of the tribute, the date of their birth, and what place they came in their games.  Somehow, seeing first runner up, though she had known it the entirety of her life, manages to rip her heart from her chest, coating the white limestone with the spray of hot, wet blood. 

Or at least it’s how it feels. 

There is no mention of the life Sevina had prior to the games. No mention of the daughter she left behind, how she was a mother who loved deeply and to the last day of her life, how she was the daughter of a cruel woman who only became that way after the loss of her child. 

Clove does not know when exactly she ends up on her knees, kneeling before the stone that is no taller than her in this position. 

It is when she notices the little symbol on every stone– some knives, some stars, some hearts– that she realizes there is some small personalization that makes these tributes people. Children. 

Clove’s right hand reaches out, shaking just enough that she notices, as she traces her pointer finger over the etching of her mother’s name. It is then, as she reaches the I, that she realizes the dot over the initial is a clover. 

The weight of a war, of physical torture, of two Hunger Games, the destruction of her home, and a loveless, empty childhood hits her. If she were not already on her knees she would have fallen to them, as it feels like she is the one who just had the breath slammed out of her against that cornucopia. 

The death of her grandmother meant next to nothing. She had openly spoken out against Clove after her appearance in Two, proudly sharing the narrative that she was a traitor and that her daughter died because of this mistake of a child. Yes, she raised Clove and turned her into a victor with her cold demeanor and cruelty, and for that Clove had no choice but to be thankful, but still, she did not feel a great loss at the news of her death by rebels in Two. 

She thought nothing of the news that her father and his entire new family also died in the roles of loyalists. He had been dead to her long before the war. 

The entirety of her family would die with Clove. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in sixty years, but there would be no one left to remember any of them after her inevitable death. 

Maybe that was the gift she could give to the ghost of her mother– the erasure of the people who treated them so cruelly. 

That of course meant the erasure of Sevina Kentwell and Clove herself, as well. 

While Clove had spent the entirety of her life to become a victor, to carve her place in history, right now the idea of slipping into anonymity and living a mundane enough life to not be remembered didn’t sound like the worst ending in the world. 

Sevina Kentwell died nearly eighteen years ago, but somehow it hits Clove like it is the first time all over again. This feeling– the elephant on her chest, the choking, gagging sobs that she could not control, the tears that felt like burning salt on her cheeks– may as well have been from the little girl whose mother never came back for her. 

She felt an overwhelming need to speak out loud– to the air, to the universe, to whatever could hear her– that she couldn’t really explain. It felt silly, to just speak into thin air, and yet she doesn’t have it in there to stop herself. 

Clove wipes her tears on the back of her sleeves, rocking back to sit on her heels. She pushes her hair behind her ears, before she crosses her arm over her chest, tucking her hands along her hips on opposite sides of her body. 

“I’ve always kind of wondered what was so wrong with me as a baby, if I was so unlovable of a little girl that it was just..so easy to leave me. Grandma always told me thats the case…that I’ve been fucked up since I was born and that it was easy to leave a crazy little girl. That the risk of dying was better than having to spend eighteen years with me. I believed it, too.” Clove leans her head back, squeezing evergreen eyes closed and taking a deep, shaky breath to the sky, desperate for cool morning air to fill her lungs and quench the burning that ravages the back of her throat.  “I can’t remember what you look like. I’ve seen pictures but I can’t remember. I don’t remember the sound of your voice, or what it was like to be held by my mother.”

“I want to be angry and I want to blame you for everything that is just so fucked up about me, but I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t have been sent to training if you were a victor, huh?” Clove sniffles heavily, the skin of her face burning from the continued assault of tears that just cannot cease to flow. “And then I wouldn’t be a Victor..And then I never would have met Cato.” 

She isn’t quite sure she can believe it, though it is rational. If she had not needed to win the games herself, she never would have been sent to training to become a victor, and by extension would have never crossed paths with Cato. 

There is another part of herself though, the far less rational part, the part that let her fall for her training partner, that believes in any universe, in any version of reality, some way somehow, they would always find each other (though that she would never say out loud). 

“I married him, you know. I’ve never said it out loud.. I’ve never told anyone about it.” Clove whispers to the universe, words barely falling past her lips. “But I did. I guess I wasn’t so terrible and unlovable after all, or maybe I was, and he’s a little terrible and fucked up too. We’re made for each other in that way. He’s…the love of my life.”  She finds that her right hand is twisting at her left ring finger, the empty digit lacking any physical or public reminder of such love. It didn’t matter. They knew. “Enobaria took really really good care of me, too.  Like she had promised you. I don’t know if I would have survived without her. Both literally as a baby, but also in the games.” 

She exhales shakily. Her breathing is weighty and consuming, as she feels her throat tightening with the burning feeling of exhaustion. “I wish I had a mom these days, not that you’d know what a world without the games is like anyway…but it would be nice. To have a mom for the rest of my life….Whatever it looks like.”

Clove rests her body weight on her hands in front of her, steadying herself as she catches her breath and regains her composure. She raises her left hand again, branching herself on her mother’s headstone so she can push herself to a standing position. She brushes off the grass on her knees, smoothing down the skirt of her formal black dress. Digging the heels of her hand to stop the tears, she is unconcerned with the fact her makeup is certainly smeared around her eyes. Clove takes a shaking, stabilizing breath, gently reaching down to pat the top of the rock. 

“I miss my mom. I miss you, and I don’t even know you but I know that I love you.” Clove brushes her deep hair behind her shoulders, standing up straight like the victor she will forever be. She is all that is left of, and all that there will ever be, of the woman who eternally rests deep under her feet. “I owe you, quite literally, for my life. In all senses of it. So uh..thank you. For ruining your life to give me mine.” 

Clove takes one final shaky breath, craning her neck to the sky to stop the flow of tears. She wipes at her cheeks quickly, before shoving her hands in the pocket of her coat. Clove weaves back through the tribute corner, and before she even reaches the little gate she sees Cato leaning against one of the metal posts, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in the pockets of his own coat.

As soon as she’s within reach his arm is around her shoulders, using his hand to smooth down the hair at the top of her head before he kisses the crown of her hair gently and swiftly. Of course he can see the tracks of tears, the pink tint under the field of freckles, but he doesn’t comment on it. This was a private moment for her. 

“Ready to go home?” He pulls her in closer to his side, body heat warming her against the cool, rainy air. 

“I think we have one more stop to make.”

Everything you lose is a step you take

The only thing left of the academy which they met, trained, and ultimately, became themselves is a set of chipped marble stairs. The grand archway is reduced to piles of rubble, the long stretch of the building that was once home rests in various piles of rocks and decay. 

Their classmates were mostly dead, either after being forced into roles as peacekeeper soldiers or victims of various bombings. There were no more dorms that they had once snuck around, no more rooms full of knives or spears or dummies to use as target practice. There were no more closets to sneak off too or bad showers with cold water and low water pressure. 

All that was left of their childhood were the very steps they sat on now. 

Cato sits beside Clove, hand in hand. 

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives in this building.” Clove admits, brushing the hand that is not interlaced with his over the remnants of the grand staircase. “I imagined we’d be the most successful mentors, well, ever.” 

“Spend our lives in the building? I thought we’d own it. Rename it to the Kentwell-Hadley Training Academy, then we could claim every District Two victor forever. It would be like our legacy.” Cato teases, but the longing edge in his voice tells Clove that no, that is not entirely a joke.  He clears his throat, shifting so his chin was sitting on top of the crown of her head instead. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”

“Yeah, you broke my collarbone.” Clove smirks, craning her neck so she can look him in the eyes. They would never be back in the place they met, in the place she realized she loved this arrogant, temperamental boy. This, right here, was as close as it would get. “I thought we were going to hate each other forever…that we’d go out killing each other in the most violent, showy way we could. 

“And you stabbed me!” Cato indignantly nudges her with his shoulder, but brings his other hand up to cradle her face in his. I never thought, in a million years, we’d be lucky enough to be right here, Clove.”

“Alive?” Clove teases, but takes the opportunity to lean in and press her forehead to his. “On the rubble of the academy?” As much as she teases, she knows what he means. He means hand in hand, far from the enemies they were the day they met. He means the love they share.

“Together. I never thought we’d get to be together.” Cato admits, leaning in somehow closer still, so that their noses also could touch. “All this shit Clove, and the only constant in my entire life, from the time we were actual children, has been you. It has always been you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.” She promises, wrapping her arm around his neck so that she can pull her upper body flush to his as she finally finally finally connects her lips with his. Clove melts in his arms as he fully wraps his arms around her and holds her as close as he humanly can to him. When she pulls back, resting her nose against his once again, she laughs. “What do we do now with the rest of our lives?”

“I could say each other–” Cato taunts, but laughs as he gives the slightest shrug before she can refute him. “I don’t really know. We’ll figure it out, like we always do.”

“Together?” Clove teases, leaning back so she can fully lock eyes, green with blue, as a coy little smile creeps onto her face. “I love you. More than I loved the games.”

“Aren’t I special.” Cato soaks her in. Wet dark curls framing her face, freckles like constellations across her nose.  If he got to see this for the rest of his life.. He’d die happy. Hopefully not for many many many years, but happy nonetheless.“I love you too. More than anything.”

“You just have to one up me..” Clove rolls her eyes playfully, but she does not actually move from her place in his arms. “You know, if you want to actually get married again, you do have to ask again.”

“Are you going to say yes?” He pinches her hip playfully, causing her to squirm in his arms which he uses as the opportunity to grab her even tighter. 

“Depends on the day.” She warns, but grabs his face in both her hands immediately after. She can see it all in his eyes. The nine year olds they once were, the twenty one year olds they are now. Their entire past lies crumbled beneath them, but with her arms around his shoulders and his around her hips the entirety of their future rests in their arms. 

All the uncertainty of this new world, it didn’t matter. The future, whatever it would be, would be okay.  Whatever their future held, would be just fine, so long as it held them. 

Cato and Clove.

“Always and forever, Cato. It’s you and me, always and forever.”

I had the time of my life with you. 

[brickeyssketchhut]

sorta early concept of a remake?? of an old au i made named POLARUNE,

which had a very strange swap scheme, i mostly only did it because i wanted to see a more fleshed out concept for a tasque manager and jevil swap cuz thats cool and no one (at the time) did that

so i threw my hand in the ring with like 5 designs that i never fully liked, this is my newest and most favorite design, i think its almost the perfect mixture of both designs, (though it makes jevil as manager a little more difficult to design-) im still gonna modify it later i think

the tail is kinda weird, idk why its just a cat tail, the eyes i should probably change to normal T.M's eyes but we'll see.

but so far i think im proud of it, they weirdly remind me of mew from pokemon?? i like how i gave them baggy clownish pants, idk i just think clowns with cool pants are cool

also the name at the top is the name of the TWR replacement, its based on that thing with the cheshire cat and quantum chaos or something?? idk it just sounded cool cuz they have alot of inspiration from the cat from alice in wonderland so might as well name it that

i want to give them a cool new name (the old one was jaquell) but i have no ideas sooo

[andr0nap]

just dropping in to say I absolute ADORE your art, your colors and backgrounds and everything is absolutely gorgeous and I was losing my mind a little at your entire "ice planet au". Like, the backgrounds?!?!?! The environments?!! I need to sit down with those for a few hours and study how you did them because !!!! its amazing?! Also the ptarmigan inspired Tomas are adorable and I wish to hug them. And!! Diversity in Tomas?!! YES! My biology heart is singing with joy

also. Also. Sea Slug Vash. The Design. Is. Impeccable. Deep sea inspirations are absolutely perfect for the whole multidimensional kind of eldritch thing and vibe he + the plants have going on and it is stupendous. I absolutely love it

Aaaand the centaur au, is just delightful and I love the designs and the details to their forms, from Vash and Knives having different biology that's distinctly different when you look at details but close enough that Vash can mimic being horse-ish. (The coat patterns are so pretty!)

And (mostly last thing) this piece: https://www.tumblr.com/andr0nap/723041602792210432/turn-your-gaze-upon-this-wretched-holy-thing?source=share

I am in awe. The lighting, the detail work?! It has the feathers of trimax but the plant patterning of stampede (and oh gods, the patterning, the detail, the glow--) and then Vash's damned hand?! You've got all the pieces plus the texture and I'm just staring. AND the symbolism! Like, you've got Wolfwood staring at Vash, though Vash himself is hidden from view, and I'm just ajkghdkghjkd

Thank you very much for sharing your art!!

BWAAA THANK YOU SM!!! youre so sweet aaaa 🥺🥺🥺💕

im so happy people like my little ice planet au!! im no storyteller but i love worldbuilding and biology and putting my faves in new environments!! i definitely want to get back to this au when i get past the fandom burnout bc i put a lot of thought into this and id hate for it to end up gathering dust

YEAHH!! you get me!! i love feathery angel vash with all my heart but theres something so charming about the naked slimy chicken slug (more of that coming soon in the backlog dump)

designing the unicorn twins was an interesting little challenge, trying to make them look horse enough to be able to blend in with the masses but also predatory enough to make you go hey wait Thats Not A Horse. vash needs to put more effort into making himself look harmless because A. he moves differently from an equine when he isnt putting up an act with his exaggerated gait and B. the prey part in my centaurs brains is alive and well and theyre a suspicious bunch by nature so seeing vash stalk towards them in his normal gait would set off a lot of alarm bells

and im happy you like that piece!! it was my proper full render for the fandom and im still very proud of it!!! (esp the prosthetic.. and the fact that i remembered to turn on the timelapse yippee)

thank you again for the sweet ask!!!

[xxfillerxx]

Things im looking forward to in the hypmic 2024 albums: (BP spoilers)

EDIT updated

Nayuta Yamada waking up and FINDING OUT about all the drama. Her husband managed to find out a way to wake her up, worked with a new government that staged a coup, his kids disowned him and believed she was dead, and he made 30+ clones that were used for sacrifices on the hypnosis mic prototype. What happens when she wakes up and sees his cast from his broken arm that their son did 😭 i also hope shes actually an interesting character and not just that 'perfect dead wife' trope thingy. Ik i saw a great Nayuta headcanon that i REALLY want to be canon. I also hope we get a Nayuta design drop. Personally, I dont think she'll overly look like Ramuda bc Rei knew what the Ramuda clones were used for, so I doubt hed want to see her likeliness keep dying.

Oh my god the Yamada family drama HAS to go crazy. Like the whole hypmic plot was made bc one guy tried to get revenge on the world or whatever and wake up his comatose wife

I need to see what happens with this info publically. If Nayuta goes public, where does she live? On her own after she divorces Rei (JOKING but pls thatd be so funnyyyyy)? With rei in osaka? With BB? Godddd imagine saburo who didnt have the chance to really remember her and ohhhhhhh my ogddddd

God pls i want nayuta to pick up rapping since she was THE co-creator if not lead in creating the hypnosis mic AND have a cool mic design

ABOUT THE PUBLIC STUFF U NEED TO SEE DH'S REAVTION TO IT IF ITS NOT A SECRET. "You're telling us BB are your kids?! Wait wait you had a wife all this time?! What the fu-"

Mad trigger crew? Idk 🧍‍♂️ we might see more of rios commander, oh yeah id like to see what happens with samatoki and nemu in fighting for their ideals. There is the possibility that Nemu could become acting president or smth so ig if that happens? We see samatokis reaction? Honestly im just 💀💀 worried at samatokis words to ichiro from BP like "alright, if i participate and help in the festival then you have to listen to an order from me the next time that you cant refuse" like that sounds like bad foreshadowing even if prob nothing will happen to him 😭

oh yeah whatever happens to Ramuda AND THE OTHER CLONES OH GOD THE CLONES. do they privately help out at chuohku??? Live pubkic??? I remember chatting in the discord gc like "what if rei sets them up as a scam like u rent a ramuda and they live in ur home rent free for a while before going back". WHAT DOXYOU DO WITH 30 RAMUDAS. Im thinking they probably help chuohku as guard or w/e strictly in rhe building bc itd be chaos if ramuda clones got loose

GENTARO BBRORORORIRIRIROR GENTA BROOOOOOOO GENTBAROOOOO FUCK MAN THATS LIKE WHAT IM LOOKING FORWARD TO THE MOST FUCK. OKAY. THIS IS A BIG ONE. A DOOZY.

1) so gentsro took on his brothers identity THIS MESN THAT HE TOOK HIS NAME AS WELL, RIGHT??? WHAT IS GENTARO'S PREVIOUS NAME. IMAGINE IF HIS BROTHER WAKES UP AND THEN THE FIRST THING HE SAYS AS HE SEES GENTARO IS A NAME WE HAVENT HESRD BEFORE AND WE ALL GO "OH FUCK THATS GENTARO"

2) does gentaro still go public with chuohkus info as revenge??? Maybe not since hed just be focused on his brother waking up and all

i will be calling gentaros brother gentabro to ensure no confusion

DO THE YUMENOS GO PUBLIC WITH THE INFO??? gentaro is a celebrity rn with massive success so what happens? Do they still keep the switch private as gentabro does whatever and gentaro keeps living as his brother? Do they publically announce it? Just swap and gentaro changes his appearance a little so gentabro is still the author? Do they both work on publushing under the same name? I need to knoooow

FLINP POSSE MEETS THE YUMENOS. PLEASE bc of gentaros yume no kanata song MAYBE gentaro was still at least a little cynical and not so trusting before so IM GAINE IF HIS BRITHER IS LIKE PROUD OF HIM FOR MAKING FRUENDS. fling posse meeting them will be chaotic like "YOU HAD A BROTJET??????"

oh yeah whatever happens with dice and his mum. Im p sure thatll still be kept a secret but itd be so funny if it got revealled to FP

Ooohhhh id love to see jakurai reunited with his horrror movie protagonist son (WHY did he ring jakurai AND PROCEED T9 TELL HIM EVERYTHING WITHOUT HEARING HIS VOICE). maybe jaku gets emotional amd all then introduces him to Matenro 😭😭

Whatever the FUCK is honobono's deal and if things get resolved AKA she goes to jail for 1000000 years and whatwver needs to happen for hifumi to resolve stuff a little and put some closure on it

Homobono mic and spesker reveal PLEASE. oh god the honobono typos go crazy i once spelled HONKbono as well as bonobono just minutes ago.

PLEASE KR SHAKES BARS LIKE A MONKEY WITH RABIES I NEED HER MIC AND SPEAKER REVEAL STAT. girl doesnt even need a rap ability bc she only needs raw power to win

um ill update this list in the afternoon tomorrow bc i need to fucking studddyyyy exams start next week wish me luck! I will write a fuckton more of stuff i needd to see dw.

Addition still studying for exams hoping to crush it! Anyways:

i think everything jakurai and hitoya has been resolved already so not much need for that. BUT. IMAGINE IF JAKURAI AND REI MEET AS THE DILF DUO. I had a meme for this lol

DH? I dunno if anything needs resolving for DH aside from DH's reaction to rei and his family.

We need a Honobono and Shakku Harai showdown 😭😭 maybe its just bc shakku knows his son so well that his rap/sermon was effective but CURRENTLY THESE 2 ARE UNCONTESTED. pls shakku defeat the final boss

ummm ig thats all im mostly just looking forward to the gentabro stuff and everything related to the Yamada family. Like the hypmic plot would NOT be this convoluted or exist if it werent for Yamada dysfunctional nuclear family drama lmaoooo

OH YWAH HONOBONO MIC AND SPEAKER DESIGN AND NAYUTA DESIGN TOO PLS

Pls let nayuta be intwresting and not a perfect dead wife trope plz 🙏🙏

PS I FORGOT YEAHXI WANNA SEE WHOS THE PRIME MINIZTER NOW LOL. Is it otome stepping back up? Nemu despite being 19? Ichiro brime binister real? Im so curious.

[callibones]

Whats your favorite version of Revolver Ocelot?

this is the most difficult thing anyone has ever asked me. i know this because i thought "oh! it's obvious" and then changed my answer so many times that i realized id hit ALL of them.

in the time it took me to type that paragraph my favorite changed three more times and im not kidding. im feeling it wildly fluctuate in my brain.

mgs1: ocelot classic. old man loves his revolvers. adore. went to torture university and got a degree in torture and now everyone's saying boo hoo torture's immoral.

mgs2: liquid ocelot. outstanding. hes even better in mgs4 but here hes already wonderful. it doesnt even matter where hes better though because liquid ocelot is one Version. so the only preference ive been able to determine here is irrelevant to the question.

mgs3: baby ocelot. ocelots are proud creatures *spins guns for several minutes and MEOWS*. i understand how he felt when big boss called him pretty good and you could see in his eyes him falling absolutely in love. this ocelot made me adore all ocelots more for having met him. so absolutely a contender. but

mgs4: liquid ocelot again. here hes OUTSTANDING. dude is SO not liquid snake and it SHOWS. hes having so much fun. that one scene where he does the thing with the finger guns. is just. perfect. hes in his element. his boss fight is perfection. but

mgs5: cowboy ocelot. theres no two ways about it this ones hot. sorry. the other ones are just endearing and delightful but this one. i dunno. he still sucks. he pronounces french wrong on purpose because he hates french people. iconic behavior. his design is at his best. the polycule is in fucking shambles. hes in the same game as kaz which would overshadow literally anyone else except venom snake and him. (huey is not overshadowed because he was never a contender for most endearing. hes one of my favorite characters in media for different reasons. this is because he is so patently over the top horrible in such a fun way that hes different.)

after going through all of these in my head i can safely say that like.

i love love love ocelot classic but the others are better. fourth favorite

cowboy ocelot is really fun and fantastic and funny. gets great lines and hates the french. third favorite

between baby ocelot and liquid ocelot i am agonizing. but. but. but.

hold on i just remembered cowboy ocelot does that thing in 5 where he echoes all of the lines from big boss about how guns work and i remembered i loved him even more than i thought and now im stuck between those three again. anon what have you DONE. this is CRUEL.

um

okay im at a loss i was hoping describing each of them in turn would help but im even more dead set in the tie now. liquid ocelot is so different from baby ocelot is so different from cowboy ocelot. cowboy ocelot is, even more than ocelot classic, the Platonic Ideal of revolver ocelot, Fully Formed but not yet in his Containment Breach Form. so as far as who i think of when i think of my "favorite ocelot" it's gotta be cowboy ocelot. you can chart the line from baby ocelot right to him and see how he got even more iconic. with his stupid hat

[kosmicdream]

Ode to Togashi

Stream of conscientious incoherent rant about manga/hxh below, read at your own discretion as i AM NOT EDITING IT: 

While I’m still in the mood to talk about art and what i love about manga, i feel like i wanted to share (some) of my thoughts on why HXH continues to be one of my favorite stories. Togashi’s writing method continues to be probably like, the closest one that i aspire to replicate in my own work, partly because i love to see how much it builds and learns from itself, reinvents itself, ect. But i DONT think Hxh is perfect, even if i wouldn’t change anything about it or togashi’s writing style. 

When I first got into HXH, it was actually through the old anime. I watched that all the way thru before reading the manga, and when i was watching the anime it was during a period of time when i hated all shonen. I still kinda hate “the shonen” model, despite loving many shonen series, but something abt HXH pulled me in to give it a try and i was quickly hooked. I of course, already had experience with YYH growing up as a teen but i somehow missed HXH completely until my early 20s. I had already started trying comics by then, but it was EGGSHELLS and i had not started FFAK at that point.

HXH almost lost me at greed island my first round, ngl. I appreciate it now, andi still think the set up for Greed island was amazing but the arc itself.. I was not into it, mostly cause i think the villain for it was kinda lackluster and i didn’t really think the world of greed island had a strong design sense. There was interesting aspects, i enjoyed Bisque as a new character and she helped carry a LOT of the weight of that arc for me, but it was kind of a drag. IDK if it was also partly the adaptation for that arc, but i didn’t enjoy it much more in manga form either. It just went a bit faster. However, the end of that arc and the final fight was surprisingly brutal and enjoyable, which made me optimistic and helped me to continue. And then the chimera ant arc was the first arc i read ONLY manga first and i truly fell in love with it, obsessed even. That arc, as many readers already know, is probably like the closest thing to FFAK’s “Parent” for inspiration. Obviously, FFAK draws from a lot of things (Trigun is probably the 2nd strongest influence on FFAK) but it isn’t quite the same as HXH. As MUCH as i adore hunter x hunter part of me does cringe and laugh that like, in the end, a battle shonen manga still excited me that much but like.. As MUCH as i clearly love battle manga.. I am so over them. You know? Who cares. IMO. No matter how great it looks, i probably am never going to be more impressed (visually) with an action scene than the ones Yukito Kishiro drew. He did it, He won the action manga game to me. I have no idea what’s actually happening in Gunnm most of the time but as far as the visual spectacle of it all, it literally doesn't even make sense how good his action scenes look. (I could talk a lot about Gunnm too, but i’ll save that for another time IG) Like how the fuck does someone draw that good and it just made everything else by comparison just like, not.. Matter too much to me anymore. Which is great, because I can then look at other aspects for a work rather than just being drawn in by the visuals. And stuff. 

Where i’m at now.. I dont want to read another, even if its drawn well and .. the powers are SO powering or whatever. And i love to draw action scenes, they’re really hard and i still have so much more to go to learn about them. At best, I think im okay at them. But even when i work, i just get tired now so i cut them down a lot. Thats partly because i jsut dont have the time to draw fighting scenes. So i kind of feel embarrassed by a lot of them that ive made, i know I was lazy. Lazy in a way I’m not proud of the result, but im proud of the compromises to get the shit done. Which is the most important think in the end, to juggle your own expectations and limitations with the timeframe you have to get somewhere you need to go. I will still read more action/battle manga in the future.. But im in no rush. And im certain, for the most part, they arent going to teach me anything I don’t already know. They might entertain me and i might be like “..huh!” at a few things, but my expectation for them to do more than that is pretty low. I’m delighted when im wrong, but i cannot deny the apathy towards them is super deep. Togashi to me, is one those authors, that makes me really wake up and realize there’s still a lot of unexpected territory out there. 

He writes like an enthusiastic newbie, not a seasoned old timer that he is, who basically helped popularize the “tournament arc” and “dark edgy shonen” stuff with YYH. All his characters in HXH are geniuses, which is kind of a valid critique and can be annoying as hell too… Id say most readers dont really get how the hell nen works, yet somehow the story still functions so well in its character motivations/conflicts that it kinda doesn’t matter too much that.. It doesnt really make sense? We have to relearn what nen is basically every arc. Its not gonna stick. And yet im just so excited every time it updates and i really want to know what he wants to do with his new arc, if he is going to be able to do it. Nen to me is like a fake fantasy science that is tangible and real yet also you’re in a dream and you try to read the letters on a page, and you can read it but if you stare hard at it. The words are just blurs, or it doesn’t really connect. I like that there’s this malleable illusion that it functions in a way, that is concrete, but it isn’t really. But its enough that i can believe that for the characters, who are also not real, it is real for them. 

The fact that i can talk about “”””NeN””” like this to me is essentially why it becomes the perfect shonen to me because it takes itself so seriously, so genuinely, yet it also is nonsense but not in the way where its like.. Irony poisoned, “gotcha” twists? Im sick of all these subverting shonens that arent subverting anything. Or even just the attitude that is what makes a good shonen these days is to subvert, diminish, laugh, ect at shonen while completely stepping inside the same footprints again and again. So much manga just wants to be dragon ball, but dragon ball was good cuz it was just a fun, well drawn action manga that wasn’t trying to BE dragonball. It was just dragon ball. (maybe now its trying to be dragon ball, which is why i dont care about whatever sequel attempt we’re at now, but that’s another story.) Its fun to me that i dont know if Gon is gonna come back in Hxh. like, maybe he will and his powers will be restored ect.. But at the time of writing this, and for YEARS we just.. Have the main pals of the manga separated. Their friendship has changed. There’s a great shift in it. Gon met his dad, who sucks, but that kind of was his main quest. Sure, we have kurapika’s arc, and many other routes to go - but in a weird way HXH is done and it isn’t done at the same time. I’m just like, what are we going to do now. TOGASHI said flat earth real and was like, the other half of it is UNEXPLORED AND SO DARN DANGEROUS and theres SOM BIGGGGG DINOSAURS THERE and it just feels so gleefully like.. You’re on the swingset and some kid just keeps having to up the stakes but in the most kid-like way possible. For serious. But Togashi’s 58. But he’s right too, the dark continent IS so cool.. I just imagine leorio going there and getting so sick and shitting mutant diahrea and dying the SECOND he sets foot there and its awesome. That’s NOT what’s going to happen but im delighted at the opportunity.

This is the point where I’m writing something when i take a pause and wonder how the hell i got here. I have skimmed the above written text. Whatever point i think i was going to make, wasn’t made, but i expressed.. good feelings here. This is how i write. I typed all of that in about 15 minutes with no idea where it was gonna go. Part of the process now would be to go back, organize, edit, ect. To *TRY* to make it a little more comprehensible, as with all writing. Believe it or not i have gotten better at editing my own work. But the true nature of it all is still the same. And its the same in the way that i dont want, no matter how much i improve at my craft, i dont want to lose that enthusiasm i feel when i reach 58. I think that would be such a triumph, id be so lucky to be able to muster that energy. When I think of togashi, i think he has that. He has that real artistic spark that no amount of time/experience has ever diminished and that’s why i think he’s truly my personal favorite mangaka.  (maybe tezuka too)

[kozykricket]

every time someone mentions celeste or i watch someone play celeste or i play celeste i am just reminded of how much of a masterpiece the game is. like... i just. every little bit of it is perfect, from the major stuff like yknow, music, character writing, and wonderful pixel art, the great level design (!!! really great !!!) to the smaller things like sound effects/jingles... visual effects like squishysquishy madeline.. and like, the whole "mountain as a metaphor for stresses and anxiety" i dont think can ever be captured in as perfect of a way as celeste does it (long post, i figured this needs a Keep Reading?)

like, i feel like not only does the music set the tone and mood alongside the writing, but the level design works in tandem with it so well too. the absolute atmosphere of reflections always catches me off guard, like... confession: i still can't really relate to the identity aspects of it, though i can very clearly see them in celeste. but as someone who has experienced a lot of anxiety in life, i can relate so heavily to it all, and... just, the way the music sets the tone, especially in places like chapter 2, 3, 5, 6, and 7. (and of COURSE 9 but i could make a separate post on ch9) why not ch4? well, i think 4 is just a nice solid break after the intensity of chapter 3, which is refreshing. it stands out, but in a nice way. i really, really find that the game can just. bring out FEELINGS in me more than any other game can. i mean okay, games can make me sad, or put a smile on my face, but theres more... complex feelings, that i can barely put words to, that i feel from the music, like after you've just fallen in reflections. the ... hopelessness, almost despair, with a touch of ominousness, and... questioning, almost, of if anything was worth it. the hopefulness of the summit climb music, the uncomfortable feeling of the mirror temple music when you're in the mirror that feels like the musical equivalent of bugs crawling all over you, slowly turning into just. lost, quiet, helplessness and like. god. im not a masterful musical-analysis-person but. i FEEL like its fair to say that the entirety of the farewell ost really feels like its telling a story, one of... so many different emotions, which is so fitting, considering how complex the feeling of saying farewell can be. i. genuinely cant put to words the way that tracks like reflections and most of farewell make me feel, because singular emotions dont seem to be fitting descriptions. and i feel like no gimmick in levels ever stays for too long without introducing a new one or new combination of gimmicks. its a game where i CAN indeed be proud of my death count, knowing that it means im learning, because. death isnt frustrating and.... playing mods, ive realized even more about how unique the level design can be... some levels are more about understanding rooms and doing things in the correct order, some are about precision, and yet... it feels like the best levels... are somehow designed in a way that even the most complex rooms can just. guide you through them, like you're doing a duet with the level itself, as objects fall into place for later, etc. (midnight monsoon from strawberry jam is a good example) theres just so much greatness in celeste i know i spent like half the post on the music, but i could also spend that much time talking about how perfect the level design and difficulty curve is. the game feels like it naturally teaches you how to get better at it, without ever getting too frustrating. im not saying there isnt spikes in the difficulty the first time through, but ill say those spikes feel like they make sense, and they... well, the game does good at training you and then putting you to the test. it does well at teaching you without saying much. at most, a crow will say "press x to dash here!"

and honestly? i still feel like im hitting post too early here. i... love the game so much, and i cant put it into super coherent words. i feel like i. can never truly capture how much i love it. some games just do that to you. maybe i can capture how much i love it, but not... how much of a masterpiece it is. like yes, okay, i love it, but. its also... so much more than just a Good Game. I... think I'll hit post. maybe one day, ill write my thoughts on the game in a more coherent fashion, but. i think i get my message across here :P (it makes me almost kinda. frustrated. when i cant fully get whats on my mind down in words. like i KNOW theres more... that i cant quite pull outta my brain rn)