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#I know the majority of you are being incredibly patient and supportive and I am endlessly grateful for it. But I still feel bad about it

crippleprophet · 10 months

Note

do you have any thoughts on functional neurological disorder?

it’s one of the cruelest inventions of modern medicine.

for a bit of context on my positionality i don’t currently have an fnd diagnosis but i am at huge risk of one (my rheumatologist already thinks i have a conversion disorder) & it’s one of the many reasons i’m terrified to pursue a second neurologist after my first one dumped me. fnd is, like, maybe not the pinnacle but definitely a major player in the field of doctors gaslighting us as hard as possible & being furious every time it doesn’t work.

i’m not gonna find these articles bc it gets to a point of self harm for me to (re)read some of this shit but literally doctors are like “the more convinced patients are there’s something wrong the more they’re lying,” “the more symptoms patients have the more likely it is to be fnd and not something really wrong,” etc. again just unfathomably cruel. also the fact that mainstream medicine can unironically write that people with hypermobility are “more likely to have fnd” rather than going huh maybe there’s a neurological component here is just. what the fuck are y’all doing.

a really fun (fucked up) “i told you so” moment with the social construction of the ‘real vs fake’ tics false binary was when doctors literally can’t tell the difference based on their own bullshit criteria.

i highly recommend checking out @fndportal for incredibly insightful thoughts on a lot of these issues. sociological research on post-hysteria diagnoses & the genealogy of hysteria has also been super helpful for me although it’s obviously a very difficult history.

on a peer support level i think disability community is especially vital in the face of these kinds of psychological warfare from doctors. & to anybody who’s been diagnosed with fnd or similar conditions: i believe you. something is really wrong, it is not your fault (& it would be okay, & you’d still deserve effective compassionate care, if it was), you’re not making it up.

obviously i personally want to destroy the whole thing from the ground up, but if i could change one thing about the medical field, it’d be that it needs, desperately & urgently, to create space for not knowing. to say “something is happening here but science hasn’t caught up with it yet.” …unfortunately, to do so would be to destroy medicine from the ground up, because the whole project is predicated on the manufactured authority of knowing our bodies wholly & irrevocably, of rendering our own knowledge irrelevant at best & lies at worst.

also imo cbt, especially for a physical symptom, is evil & in situations where people can ghost their doctors rather than go i wholeheartedly support that.

#fnd #functional neurological disorder #movements of the uncontrollable body #asks #doctor hate blog ✌️🖤#medical gaslighting #post hysteria diagnoses

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clatoera · 8 months

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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.

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raayllum · 7 months

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I know you love The dragon prince and that’s great. I binged the show after season three released. I listened to podcasts about the show . I listened to yours and felt really happy when I found people who also liked the show. Unfortunately I fell of during the hiatus between season three and four. I am patient person but three years was long. Also I watched the show for rallylum and through the moon just kind killed my love for them.Then I found your blog and was really happy. Then I saw how you felt about the owl house and it bothered me. As a neurodivergent person the show made me feel really seen. I know it’s stupid to be upset about an opinion. As a person who wants to be an English major how do find parallels between relationships and characters. You talk about certain ones and I don’t see them at all. Your probably more seasoned as a writer than I am so

Ps : sorry this is long and hope tdp ends well in your opinion

Few things:

1) I'm also neurodivergent (hi!) - specifically Autistic - and I have also largely wanted to be understood my whole life, much like Luz (according to S3). While a show making you feel seen can certainly be wonderful, meaningful, and sometimes even life changing, to me that's not enough to make it a Good (per my subjective tastes) Show. That's not to say TOH is a bad show - far from it - but it's one that didn't appeal to my particular tastes due to 1) too many characters and not enough screentime, 2) a lack of theme (which many kids shows don't have a ton of because they're, y'know, for kids), and 3) all of the characters have very black and white morality, and that's just less interesting to me.

Being upset about opinions is very natural, and it's not stupid, but it is also important to acknowledge that 1) you can't control how anyone else feels or interprets things and 2) no one else can control how you feel or interpret things.

2) I adored Through the Moon. Rayla's tendency to leave (and why) is always a hurdle I expected them to have to tackle at one point, and given that it's her main character flaw, I'm really excited and happy with the way it's been handled so far and how TTM kicked it off. The graphic novel also really resonated with me in Callum's place, as I too have loved many of my loved ones through incredibly difficult periods regarding their mental health, and the graphic novel felt very honest about the toll that can take on both parties in different ways, and how love/support can help, but ultimately isn't enough if the person isn't ready (or willing) to start trying to get better. It's not an easy pill to swallow, but it is a realistic and important one and I've enjoyed how the show has continued that storyline with Rayla (and Callum) into S4 and S5

3) Being an English major is not for everyone! I know many people who love to read and who are very good writers where an English degree would not suit them at all. It's a lot of reading (by my final year, there were some weeks where I was reading an entire 400 page book roughly every week, if not multiple at the same time). It is also a lot of writing (and my professors regularly chewed me out for my grammar). You also tend to kind of double being a history major as depending on what you're reading, you learn a lot of the religious/historical/cultural context in order to understand the language, references, and messaging intended by the author (and then whether or how much to disregard it, lmao). Being able to analyze — to see connections between characters and themes in particular, but other forms of symbolism and messaging — quickly is probably the main thing that saved my ass and let me stay on Honour Roll throughout my undergrad.

I have also been writing pretty seriously for a long time (I 'started' at age 10 but only really count age 12 onwards, cause that's when I first started writing 70k+ drafts every 1-2 years for original WIP stuff). A lot of what makes a good writer is being a good reader, taking your favourite stories (books or otherwise — movies, musicals, tv shows, etc can be gold mines) and figuring out what works in them and why, or why you like them (or don't like them), etc.

For example: The Owl House is a primarily character driven > plot driven story. In book form, it'd likely be Middle Grade to early YA. It's interested in character relationships among the main cast (any of the more villainous characters like Belos are never given the same amount of development or screentime) and some mild worldbuilding. It has some social commentary (mostly on the school systems through Luz and mental health through Eda) and an overall theme of "being different is good," breaking away from abusive systems/dynamics, and the importance of solidarity.

If I compare and contrast this to TDP, The Dragon Prince is far driven in equal parts by the plot (because it's wholly serialized) and by character. It is also very thematically driven — most notably how to break intergenerational cycles of trauma and violence, but also self-destructive tendencies, abuse, responsibility, power, grief, and concepts of justice and punishment. This is also reflected in the fact numerous villainous characters (Viren, Claudia, etc.) share close to equal screentime with the 'good guy' protagonists and heavily explores morality across a decently wide spectrum. It thereby has a more mature tone in its subject matter and would easily be YA in book form.

Which is to say: the best way to get better at analyzing is to break characters down to their basic plot structures (Character A does this, they want that, Character B does this, they want that, etc.) and see what pops up (for example, in Avatar The Last Airbender, Aang and Zuko both cannot go home, and duel Ozai when they're 13 years old, ultimately refusing to be violent against their opponent). You can also look at similar personality traits (curiosity, selflessness, carelessness, etc). Practice looking at the stories you love and figuring out what works and doesn't work for you personally — and then go beyond relatability to look more at subtext and symbols. Some of the best things I've ever read were books that had nothing relatable to my personal experiences in them (like The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini), and that was why I loved them because they got to broaden my horizons.

#thanks for asking #non tdp #forbidden op lore #long post #anonymous #requests

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aro-iceland · 4 months

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not really a drawing request but id love to know more about your ocs??? from what you’ve posted they look amazing??

Thank you VERY much!!! i forgot how much i love to talk about them

(sorry for the old art or picrews, i am too excited to not talk about them and simultaneously not patient enough to redraw them)

All picrew links: Kit + Kevín + Lilly Annalise Piper + Cecily Mikael + Claire Princeton

here's a general overview of everything that exists:

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

part 1: em groups

you should at least be vaguely familiar with my em. every single au and whatever hetalia character i feel like grabbing for that day goes in there. interesting little tidbit that somehow hasn't come up so far is that in more human AUs of mine he's part irish! ~20% of icelandic males and 60% of females actually have irish/keltic ancestry!!! ireland being his mom hc is going WILD in me. he's also very magic because that headcanon singlehandedly started the ice obsession in me. how well in tune he is with it and how exactly it looks like depends on the au . i also make him closer friends with swe and fin because i can👍

(excerpt from my em content dedicated whatsapp group with just my (non-hetalia) best friend and me: )

le is there a lot because i love him so so much. incredibly phoenix coded man

there's also monaco, gwendolyn or gwenny to me. she's a permanent resident because i support women's rights (slaying) and wrongs (gambling addictions)

a notable not fully formed character is faroe islands! petra sometimes, emma other times. i genuinely don't know where those names come from. i heard the faroe islands and iceland being referred to as "kind of like twins" and as each othere's "best friends" *somewhere* and i am VERY normal about that too. oh SO normal

part 2: mikael's world

a fusion of 2 groups put into one world, connected by one flimsy tie. it's mostly analogous to real life but no homophobia👍

Group A: Pentagon

Mikael started out as a swedish micronation oc but we don't talk about that. he has a chicken called omelette because of inside jokes during... my wattpad era... shudders. i project onto him a lot and lots of his design is just wish fullfillment. while i love my ocs suffering and angst, because i put so much of myself in him, ultimately, his story is one of healing. major point of difference between us though is that his parents abandoned him and mine... didn't.do.that. 💀👍

Claire and Piper both actually started out as minecraft skins i made for fun!! and then i made them kith:3

Cecily and Kit were added becaue i felt like something was missing to complete the friendgroup!

Group B: menace club

Kevín and Lilly are my ACNL and ACNH side accounts...... and Annalise was some pretty trans woman i drew one day there's nothing much to this

Part 3: D&D

so.. confession: i haven't actually played d&d yet! but my friends love it a lot, i love a couple ttrpg podcasts so.. yeah i have a couple concepts!

The Leighlar Pilayden, or blueberry bitchfuck as i like to call him, Half Elf sorcerer who was abandoned as a babg and raised in a cult which, in a world with multiple deities, somehow ended up believing in the *one* that doesn't exist! he's a sorcerer but they all think his powers a blessing from their god

MY BABY MY SOBBING WET CAT SON! PRINCETON INTEKONA!!!

TIEFLING BARD I might get to play as him soon... negative strength, the only reason he has such a high charisma stat is because everyone pitties him... he accidentally ended up in a criminal gang... he plays the pan flute and bagpipes... pathetic baby

Part 4: Miscellaneous

All the Characters that are alone in their worlds!

(^aesthetic wise but he definitely kins larry)

Brian is the brain cell a friend and i are sharing and also the last one we have. he's a SOO overworked office worker. he has to handle EVERYTHING he's so exhausted please give him a break. he recently got a boyfriend. good for my him

Recently re-named Ailbhe used to be Avery and is a genderless, fully white skinned(as in colour not the skin colour we associate with the word. imagine porcelaine!) and neon yellow haired fallen angel/ex-demi-god!! not much lore but... lots of potential!!

Firenze is... idk he just happened in one history lesson in 2018 and now he's here. bunny boy with lots of responsibilities around the palace!!!

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

and ... phew. i THINK that's it? mostly? oh my god. if. there's anyone you wanna know more about... tell ME

#how in the actual fresh hell do i tag this?#trick question #i won't tag this!#except for this #of course

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okthatsgreat · 3 months

Note

hi lee!!!!!!!! ❤️✂️🍎💀🍩🧠 for any oc yyou want to talk about YAYYY! :D

YAYYYYYYY HIIII LILY :333 IM GONNA USE SAE FOR THIS ONE I THINK !!!!!!!!!!!!!

oc ask game!

❤️ - what is one of your oc’s best memories?

URMMMMMMM. a lot of sae's best memories are really tame i think bhgfdghdfj just moments where she could sit back and say Yeah. I am Completely Happy :) BUT the BEST one i think is one she recounts a lot just bc she reallyyy felt like she had found peace. the fishing village near her afi's home holds a yearly festival for fisherman's day that she LOVEESSSS. and IF MY TIMELINE IS CORRECT she got an award i believe in 2012 (??) for her achievements and contribution to her community . and when the festival was over she got to have a long chat with her afi up on a mountain top overlooking the ocean and she holds that conversation very dear to her heart :]

✂️ - what is one of your oc’s worst memories?

(forgive me for being vague theres still a lot to be revealed in the rp hgdfjkggfdsjk!!) shes got a few but the WORST one she remembers suppperrrrr vividly just because everything seemed to happen all at once, the town she was living in was going through one of the WORST thunderstorms it had ever had, and she was seconds away from doing something SO rash . GOD awful day for a thirteen year old to have. BUT it was the catalyst for some major changes in her life, so while she would never go back and do that all over again sae can at least acknowledge that it switched what direction her life took DRASTICALLY. it led her to where she is today but that definitely doesnt mean she looks back at it with any sort of fondness gbhdgbsdf

🍎 - what is the oc's relationship w/their parents like?

her afi and amma were her legal guardians for the majority of her teenage years! and anybody within a five mile radius knows that she LOVES those guys. she takes so much influence from her afi particularly and holds him on a very high pedestal of how she should be behaving and what traits she should portray, just because he is an incredibly patient and wise man. her late amma also influenced her a LOT in terms of hard-work and dedication to others, and when she passed it only caused sae to work even harder to support her afi. not to mention sae truly considers her afi to have saved her life which means she feels she owes a LOT to him ghfdjkg

she doesnt speak with her parents!

💀 - does your oc have any phobias?

she isnt DEATHLY afraid of anything but she gets concerned over superstitious things that arent necessarily a problem to other people lmaooo. like for instance she does NOT fuck with bananas because they are considered terrible luck on boats. she rarely sails on thursdays, took the lucky charms off of her fishing hat and placed it around her waist just so the hat won't fly overboard again, never renames a boat, etc. ALL because she doesnt want to invite bad luck on her ship fghsjd

she's also really not a fan of loud noises!! thunderstorms have a tendency to freak her out but it really depends on the day honestly. catch her in a good mood and she can manoeuvre a boat through them easy peasy, catch her in a bad mood and she'll just sort of stare at the floor unmoving for a bit

🍩 - who is your oc's arch-nemesis or rival?

LMAO sae would never admit out loud that she hates anybody enough to consider them an arch-nemesis or rival. ESPECIALLY pre killing game. now does she dislike people? for sure. is this killing game definitely taking a lot of her pent up resentment and making it ten times worse? definitely

🧠 - what do you like most about the oc?

guy that tried so hard to escape the cycle that she is slowly turning into the very thing she was attempting to run from 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 she is NOTTT breaking the loop

#THANK YOU SM MWAH <33 #oc: sae #ask lee #lottiematthewsgirl #ask game

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allthingsfook · 10 months

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I'm gonna keep this anonymous cause personal but not really hehe!

I am a 21-year-old woman who's 5'5 and with light brown hair, fair skin, and Brown/green eyes (they change color in different lighting). I have a little mole (beauty mark) on the left side of my face, kind of full lips, and where little to no makeup daily. I'd say my body type is mid-size (192 lbs and I can fit into M/L/XL so it's hard to tell) and I'm not too curvy.

I'm an Aquarius Sun, Virgo rising, Capricorn moon, and Venus in Aquarius. My hobbies are painting, drawing, and any kind of visual art. I love rock music, both old and new, and will sometimes listen to folk music. I'm entering my fourth year of college as an Arts Management Major and Comm minor (still got a way to go till I graduate cause shit's expensive) and ideally would love to be a part-time artist and work in PR or Journalism.

I come off as shy and particular with a little stubbornness, but as you get to know me I open up and will laugh with you and share things I'm passionate about whether it's big or small. I will always try to hide my emotions around you and if we are really close you'll be able to get me to talk about it cause you know how I try to mask it all.

Extra facts: I love cats, I love pasta so much it's what I eat the most, I am a caffeine addict, and I have never dated anyone.

Who would you ship me with?

Sorry if this was long 😬

Hiiii!!! I am so incredibly sorry this has taken me this long to get through my inbox, BUT good new is…. You are last, but MOST DEFINITELY not least!!! I won’t make this drag out any longer, so lets jump into it!!

I ship you with….

Daniel Robert Wagner

Let’s start with the zodiac compatibility… Both Capricorn’s and Aquarius’ are intentional with their love lives. You are cautious, yet open-minded. You take time to build a trusting relationship, and slowly approach each other’s vulnerabilities and insecurities together. Danny would be the best partner to help you through that. He is incredible patient and kind. He would wait as long as you need him to for you; just to feel safe with him. He’d assure you along the way, not only with his words, but with his actions. Once all the walls are broken down, you’d share a stable and positive life.

With the foundation of your relationship being extremely strong, it’s easy to see how the rest of it can fall into place. Your hobbies are things I could easily see Danny eager to do with you. Clearly Danny is a very talented man, not just with drumsticks in hand… maybe a paint brush or marker. He’d jump at the chance to hunker down into a cozy corner of the house with you, skim through pages of an activity book and color you a purple monkey. He’d hold it up to you like a proud 1st grader and sport a cheesy smile. You’d giggle and tell him you love it! I could see you discovering an old rock song one day. Playing it in the shower, the car, and around the house. Danny would recognize the tune and quickly learn how to play it on the guitar. One night while he is playing around, he’d start casually playing that song. You’d slowly catch on and begin dancing around, singing the lyrics with him. Those are the moments he would live for with you. So innocent and playful. Just what he needs after years of rigorous touring and creating.

Danny, per usual, would be extremely supportive when it came to your education. He’d understand the need to take things slow or even taking time away from it. For someone who didn’t have to go to college, he’d seem to know a lot about the woes of it. Or maybe he is just that insightful to your feelings. He’d be your biggest cheerleader on the days you get stellar grades. Then he’d be your shoulder to cry on when things get tough. No matter the circumstance, he’s always going to stand beside you. When you do complete your academics, he’ll be blushing over you. Showering you with reminders of how far you’ve come and how smart you are. When you are ready to step foot into a career, Danny would be hyping you up on social media, and getting your name out with his contacts. We love a supportive man!!!

I suppose it is the Aquarius in you that identifies with being shy and stubborn. Definitely a few things Danny would be able to handle. Compared to the other boys, Danny is certainly a little more reserved. That may be the very thing that unites the two of you when you first meet. He’d notice you behind your drink and subtle smirks over the obnoxious gal in the room. Once the two of you have been together for a while, he’ll get a taste of that stubbornness. Again, Danny is so understanding and not very quick to temper. He’ll have his ways of taming you. Not in a dismissive or demeaning way either. He’d be kind and understanding. Giving you reason and words of affirmation. Once you come back down to earth, your passionate, loving, beaming soul will shine again. The very reasons Danny would love you!

To address your tid bits:

Danny would adopt any cats you may have now, and if you don’t have any (or want more) I could see him coming home with a tiny kitten in the palm of his hand with a bell on it’s collar. He’d insist on naming it something like Ludwig or Ramone.

Danny would also love a good bowl of pasta. As I am sure you know, he is a great cook and the minute you beg for a pasta dish, he’ll be in the kitchen boiling it up.

Danny would share and feed into your caffeine addiction. If that is in the form of coffee, he’d always be making early morning coffee runs. Greeting you with a cup in hand.

And finally, Danny would be so accepting and understanding of you not being in a relationship. He’d agree to take things slow and guide you through everything. His want for you to feel comfortable and safe is so profound. You will quickly understand how deeply he would care for you!

Alright!!! I so hope you are happy with this ship! As always, let me know what you think! I always love to hear back!!!!

#greta van fleet #gvf #peaceful army #gvfships #gvf moodboard #songships #gretavanfluff #gretavanfleet ships #greta van fleet imagine #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #samkiszka #sam gvf #dannywagnership

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 10 months

Text

Requests August 2023 update

Hello my wonderful friends!

(TL;DR at the end) (Request form at the end)

Thank you for being patient with me as the opening of the requests was delayed by a week, but here I am again!

Over the past months, I’ve written dozens of Chosen one-shots and I’ve enjoyed every single one of your requests. I am incredibly grateful for all of your overwhelming love and support. Every little comment and like means more than you’ll ever know. Writing for this show has connected me to so many wonderful people and it has greatly helped me in my walk of faith. I am still rounding off the April request-batch and going through them as fast as I can, so if you haven’t yet seen your request pass by, fear not, I am still working on it! I have a handful of requests to fulfil, which are to be found in the schedule (pinned post).

I’ve tried to keep a consistent schedule when it comes to uploading fics. About two or three, sometimes four releases a week. Owing to my lenient college hours, I’ve been able to keep up this speed, but I am saddened to inform you that the amount of uploads will drastically change soon.

Once summer is over, I’ll be starting my full-time job as a teacher. It is a major part of my graduation year of college and it will require a lot of me. This means that I’ll encounter a major drop in my time and energy when it comes to maintaining my current speed of writing. However, this also means that I’ll need to write some fanfics upfront, just so I can keep posting in the first weeks of my job, so that I don’t have to worry about that for a while. I really want to keep putting out Chosen content, but I cannot keep up with my current consistency.

Sure, I have summer break right now, but my personal life has also gotten busier in the most positive sense of the word. I have always told myself I wanted to let my personal life go before my online life, so that is something I want and need to hold onto.

So, the amount of uploads will change to about one post a week.

Oh, and some more news! I had not expected to have a significant male audience, so I want to start catering to them as well. In the August 2023 request form, you will find a new option to select whether you want the one-shot to be for a male or female reader. I will try my very best to represent a male reader to my best ability, because I have no experience in writing male readers.

Please be aware that I’ll be applying Biblical values to my one-shots when it comes to romance, so please request accordingly.

What does this mean for the coming weeks?

I will need to ration the amount of posts since I need to write some stuff upfront. (This does not include headcanons or ABC’s, these will be posted sporadically.)

August 22nd, the requests will close.

Throughout August, September, October and maybe November, there will be 1 one-shot a week. Perhaps that I can offer more, but time will have to tell, because it depends on how my writing-marathon goes. I don’t want to put the bar too high for myself.

Around December, I hope to open the requests again. This may be earlier, but no promises yet!

I really wish I could offer you more, but I can’t risk losing the joy I’m feeling whenever I write for this show, and I want to deliver quality rather than quantity.

Although I will not post as much, I will try to actively keep participating in my Chosen Fans Discord server. The community is small but sweet. It hosts several events, such as Bible Studies, Chosen Watch Parties and we’re planning on doing movie nights as well! I would love to keep in touch, so I hope to see you there!

TL;DR - Requests are open again. I’ll be sporadically posting about 1 chapter a week for the next few months so I can settle into my new job. Male reader-insert requests are now a thing as well, of course all within Biblical context.

AUGUST 2023 REQUEST FORM

Once again, thank you so much for following and supporting my Chosen fanfictions. God has blessed me greatly with all of you, I don’t deserve any of it and yet you are here. Thank you friends, I love you all! God bless you abundantly.

Lots and lots of love, Rose

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trashyslashers · 2 years

Note

Hello C: may i ask for a matchup with dbd survivors? Imma put the info here,

I use she/her pronouns and i’m bisexual.

I have long black hair with bangs, i’m 5’2, I’m very feminine, I tend to wear a girly style(like long skirts, cardigans, loafers, hairbands, jewelry, etc).

🫶🏼I am an ISFJ 9w1, I have an Aqua moon/sun and virgo rising, I am a true neutral, My love language is touch and quality time, I like to tease close friends, I have been described as shy,friendly, understanding, accepting, kind hearted, open minded, self sacrificing, and supportive, People have also said that i give out a very chill and comforting aura. Ppl tend to vent to me easily (which i don’t mind!!). Some of my flaws are that i have pretty bad trust issues, socially awkward yet social(it’s literally the worst), slow, paranoid, a bit sensitive, VERY snappy when mad and forgetful. Idk if it helps but here are some of my kins, Aimee Gibbs, Sayori, perfuma, Tanjiro Kamado, Lain, Rory gilmore, Nana komatsu, Mindy meeks, elle woods, rarity, Kaworu Nagisa, and Tahani Al Jamil!! :)

🫶🏼My hobbies are making outfits, reading, ceramics, journaling, and shopping. My interests are HORROR, perfumes, fashion, and psychology! Some facts about me is that I babysit! I major in psychology and plan to work in child development, and i would love to have a job as a florist as well! I LOVE music, like i literally can’t live with out it lol.

that’s it! sorry if i put too much info, i tend to go a bit overboard on these. thank you and have a nice day(remember to take breaks!!)<3

Claudette would be a good match for you!

Honestly? You remind me quite a bit of Claudette! Both of you are kind, sensitive, open-minded, and supportive, to name a few.

If you met in the Fog, she would really appreciate having someone with a calming, relaxing aura; while Claudette isn't as anxious as some of the other Survivors, she tends to be the one many go to for advice, remedies, etc. While I'm not saying she'd go to you like that, necessarily, having someone around who can help her relax is a very welcome change.

However, if you do lend an ear to her when she needs to vent, she'll appreciate it more than you may know. She is incredibly used to not really getting the chance to share what's on her mind, her troubles, or her anxieties as usually she doesn't have someone to do so with, or the time isn't appropriate. You providing her with a space (bonus points if you're very reassuring and supportive with words, too) means the world to her.

More than happy to indulge you in both of your love languages: while she's not huge on PDA, hand holding, head-on-shoulder relaxing, and the occasional head-in-lap nap are some of her favorite ways to touch and be close to you. Doesn't matter who's resting on who - she just loves being physical with you in such a tender manner, especially if you two have time to yourselves.

Claude is a very patient, understanding person. She understands that you have trust issues and tend to be anxious and a bit paranoid, and is more than willing to let you take your time to warm up to things. She has pretty thick skin, to a degree - while she can get a bit flustered if someone snaps at her or is particularly rude, it, more often than not, rolls right off her back, and this extends to you (especially if she knows you're struggling at the time).

Thinks your interest in regards to working in childcare is sweet, and loves that you like flowers enough to want to be a florist!

#request #anon #matchup #matchups #match-up #match-ups #dbd x reader #dbd matchups #dbd matchup #dbd match-up #dbd match-ups #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight match ups #dead by daylight match up #dead by daylight matchups #dead by daylight matchup #claudette morel #claudette morel x reader

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spoonsforminutes · 1 year

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Medical Ableism

As someone who has extensive personal experience with medical ableism from both physical and mental health professions, I wish more people realized that ableism (and really all -ism ideologies) are a systemic issue reflected in individuals and has no real inherent bearing on morality. What makes medical ableism so vile is the fact that the U.S. is a country in which people refuse to confront the uncomfortable beliefs of the past and present, and the fact that people confuse personal ego and professional knowledge as the same thing. Specifically more so in therapy, it is a therapist’s responsibility to mitigate conversations with their clients in a safe and beneficial way that addresses their concerns, and although seen more in good therapists, medical professionals should feel encouraged to discuss personal examples of trauma without trying to control the client’s own narrative. I don’t know why this is so hard for medical professionals because when someone is trusting their life in your hands, my own opinions always come second place to validated research. Plus I don’t know, my personal trauma failed to develop and secure a personal identity for myself, but I have always spent my time learning about and expanding my own worldview. And it’s super funny going through medical healthcare courses in college as someone with an invisible disability because you really learn that no matter who are--either an old white guy retired from his medical career or a woman in cancer remission trying to teach young med professionals that patients need to have compassion for their illness--you find out pretty quickly that the U.S. healthcare system only sees fatal/terminal illnesses, temporary illness/conditions in which full recovery is expected, or mental health (only addressed by mental health professionals).

Neuroscience and cognitive science truly is such a good major to have when heading into medical school because it’s the best of both worlds in terms of psychology and biology with the added bonus to explore linguistics, computation, and philosophy. I am incredibly privileged to have gotten such an education and to use it to really expand all aspects of my understanding. I specifically perform research on my own disability and gender identity, so I’m already on this battlefield. I am in the trenches, but even more so, I see the people who face the same struggles as me, and I think, “well, im used to pain and trauma; let me step in front and take the first bullet.” I don’t think true social activism is ever a choice; it feels like I walked head-first down that path, and whenever things get in my way, I double-down on everything I know I am and what I believe. This is where my gender identity really helps because both masculinity and femininity where used against me whenever I stood up for myself, so when people misgender me, it fills me with a little bit of glee because I think “good, go ahead and underestimate me.” It’s very clear that even with top surgery, my trauma-strained voice affirms my assigned sex which is incredibly dysphoric, but I’m working on it for me and my personal happiness. Until then, my voice is no excuse. Transphobia literally lives in the spaces of what is deemed acceptable queerness and the assumptions about its visibility. The traditional sex binary model will always spurn transphobia until society realizes that “male” and “female” sex simply don’t exist and are a heuristic that was never meant to be taken literally, but the history of sexism and racism in medical science has perpetuated this idea that inherent differences exist between people that would support bigots and discrimination.

I don’t think morality is something that anyone can possess permanently because it relies on both words and actions; you do not just get claim you’re a good person and then do whatever the fuck you want. Being a good person means respecting both yourself and others, and ultimately, wanting to see a future where you and the people who influence your life (whether you know it or not) can live free and happy and SAFE.

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findingmypeace · 2 years

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9/6/2022

In some ways today has been really good and in others it has been overwhelming. I enjoyed some time with a friend this morning and I had two job interviews this morning and I got both of them. I am definitely taking one of them. It a clinical supervisor/lead therapist position but I’d mainly be doing initial assessments and supervising. I am both really excited and really anxious about it. There is so many reasons for both emotions.

Anxiety: I don’t know if I have the knowledge base for this job although it’s in line with my Ph.D. I am also concerned I don’t have the emotional capacity for this job. But actually I think I would feel that way about any job right now and I absolutely have to work so I really don’t have any choice. Still, it’s a shock to the system to go from being the patient to being the therapist. Thankfully, because I’m the supervisor, I don’t have to carry a caseload unless I want to. At this point the majority of my client based work will be the initial patient assessment. Finally, I think I might have to quit treatment and losing the support of PHP/iop right now is really scary. I’m going to see if treatment will let me do evening iop once my job starts. Usually they don’t let you step down unless they believe your ready. It’s also considered ama if you have to quit to go back to work. But I’m praying they’ll understand I need the extra support right now.

Excitement: It pays better than any job I’ve ever had and more than double my last job. And like I said it’s more in line with my Ph.D. I also enjoy working with this population (this job is at a substance abuse treatment center). And the company seems really friendly and flexible. Also, this is random, but I’m very excited about it-they provide health insurance to their employees. I’m not sure which plan it is yet but if it’s different than my current one maybe I could still see my therapist. Hopefully it all works out.

Like I said, in someways the day has also been overwhelming. 2 days ago I was almost hospitalized on crisis unit. Today, I got a new job. The contrast between the two is a lot to deal with. Yesterday, my body physically took a hit due to a trauma response. I feel better, physically, today but I still feel like I’m having an emotional hangover. The nurse at treatment gave me a long hug today and I started crying. I also felt so anxious during dinner (at PHP) that I got out the ice pack they use as a way to keep calm. I still feel incredibly hurt by the things my Mom said. Part of me just wants to hide. I’m so overwhelmed and feel like I might cry if anything else happens. So it was a really good day and a really hard day. Hopefully as the days pass the emotional hangover will quiet down.

#personal #depression

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nasrinfm · 2 years

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✿ * · ( mishti rahman , ciswoman , she / her ) a little birdy told me NASRIN KAZI just moved to sunset hills . have you met them yet ? they look somewhere around TWENTY - SEVEN , if i had to guess ! pretty sure i heard them driving down the street playing AS IT WAS by HARRY STYLES , they sounded a little pitchy but they had the spirit ! must be their favorite or something . hey … it looks like they just moved into DUSK DRIVE . have you heard about what they do for a living ? someone told me they’re a SPEECH THERAPIST , but who knows if that’s even true . guess we’re just gonna have to wait and see . nervous ? maybe you should be . sunset speaks just posted about them … apparently they're RESIDENT ID # 018 ? between you and me , i think that might spark some things in the community … but what do i know ! you guys might get along just fine !

statistics / biography / connections / pinterest

hi everyone ! i’m so excited to be here , a couple things about me before i get to talking about nasrin . . . my name is diana and i am currently twenty six years old , i reside in the est timezone & i use she / her pronouns . now enough about me , let’s get to the woman of the hour . . . nasrin !

background

nasrin grew up in a pretty small town where she felt like everyone was under a microscope . she grew up with a speech impediment ( rhotacism ) where she had trouble saying r sounds . because of this , although nasrin was naturally an extroverted person , she became more and more introverted because people would laugh at her whenever she talked so she just retreated into herself . she wanted to fit in so badly and she felt like maybe if she hadn’t been born with this impediment , she would . because her interests aligned with her peers but she still felt like an outsider . her parents put her in speech therapy but she grew frustrated , as many people do , when she couldn’t find enough progress . her frustration led to some emotional regulation problems . she did eventually find a speech therapist that really worked with her and met her where she was at , and the rhotacism has mostly gone away but still comes out once in a while . she retreated to the internet as well , because she couldn’t connect with her peers in real life but she definitely connected with people online . she became heavily involved in several fandoms , but most notably the one direction fandom , along with things like fashion and pop culture .

present day

in college , nasrin was deciding between three majors : film , music marketing , and speech pathology . ultimately , she ended up double majoring in music marketing and speech pathology . however , after graduating , she decided to kind of abandon music marketing and focus solely on getting her masters in speech pathology and her license so she could become a speech therapist and help kids who had the same struggles as she did . now , she’s in her first year or so of being a speech therapist and she loves it . she really likes the idea of taking all the times she was bullied and all of the pain and turning into something productive . she’s still an online girlie and probably always will be because even though she’s a bit more social now , she’s still more introverted than she is naturally because of her experiences . it’s much easier for her to connect with people online than in real life .

personality

nasrin is a naturally warm and inviting person , but years of bullying kind of chipped away at her so she’s not nearly as extroverted as she would be . she’s a very organized person , loves making things look aesthetically pleasing . you should see her pinterest boards , she’s all about the aesthetic and the vibes . she’s also a very supportive person , this definitely comes out in the speech therapy practice , as she is incredibly supporting and understanding with the patients she works with . she’s still working on her emotional regulation issues , and they only pop out occasionally but if she gets frustrated with something , they can pop out quite aggressively . they mostly only come out when she’s alone or with people she really trusts . she’s a somewhat obsessive person , as you can probably tell from the fact that she’s a total fangirl . despite being more sure of herself now than she used to be , nasrin can still be incredibly insecure . she doesn’t think people in real life like her , because people in school used to pretend to like her as a joke and deep down , she still thinks that anyone who tries to be her friend is laughing at her behind her back . she’s trying to come out of her shell , but it’s hard work . there’s a part of her that will always be that scared little girl .

#sunsetintro

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years

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Thanks for the quick reply, hun. I’m pretty excited! I’m so happy that you’ll accept my request for my birthday, it means a lot to me!

Okie, I’ll try to make this short and sweet! I’m pretty talkative and tend to get carried away with what I write—

I am non-binary and also Biromantic. I use she/they pronouns!

I’m monogamous! Only one person at a time.

My chosen fandoms are Cookie Run, My Hero Academia, and Hetalia! I’m secretly excited for the Hetalia match ups, it’s my favorite anime. ❤️

Let’s see.. four things my partner should have are:

A LOT of patience. I’m a very impatient and stubborn lad, I need someone who’s patient with me.

LOYAL. PLEASE. Ive got major trust issues, so I’d like a partner that I KNOW I can trust.

Someone fun to be around! Someone that loves to be a lil’ goofball all the time but gets serious when they need to be (Like Mirio)!

I have SEVERE body image issues.. a partner who constantly reminded me that they love me no matter how I look is definitely a must have for me.

There’s not much I wouldn’t want in a partner, I’m pretty open to different personalities, but two that I wanna point out are:

Short tempered people. They are the worst. I should know, I AM short tempered.

I’m often misunderstood because of my ADHD (often VERY irritable, mood swings, short attention span, etc.) and I’m terrified of having a partner that would disregard that completely. Someone open-minded who will take their time to understand me would be nice!

Four main aspects of my personality:

I want to have friends and yet I’m a massive introvert. I want to make friends but the moment I try to talk to someone, I freeze up.

I like being able to watch out for other people. I’m like the mother of the group 😄

I’d like to think I’m creative! Mainly in arts and crafts, though. Everything else? Meh.

I worry about EVERYTHING. I’m the type of person that thinks that “whatever can go wrong will go wrong” so I’m constantly worried about the smallest things.

Two things I love to do are drawing and writing! Two things I hate are heated arguments with others (I get nervous when things get loud) and messy rooms. Seriously, I spend a solid hour everyday cleaning up my room in the morning 😭 I just can’t stand it being messy.

SUPER SORRY for writing the whole Declaration of Independence here, love— I just wanted to be as detailed as possible so you could have a more accurate idea of what I’m looking for. ^^ Thanks again for accepting my request! You’ve made my birthday a good one! ❤️

birthday match-up | cookie run, hetalia & my hero academia

happy birthday!

note : characterisation may be slightly off here because i haven’t watched hetalia or mha in a while, so apologies if that was at all the case (i also had to rewrite the entire thing because my tumblr app reset mid way through the hetalia section - sorry!!)

i matched you with…

Cookie Run

-> pure vanilla cookie

endlessly patient, empathetic and protective of those he’s close to, p.v would be the perfect partner when it comes to avoiding misunderstandings and offering any and all reassurances you may need in the moment. he’s unconditionally supportive of your passions and adores your creativity and he’s far from the type of person to stray from your relationship or get into any heated disagreement with you. p.v also appears to be incredibly put-together, so you wouldn’t have to worry about messy rooms with him. his reputation and endless patience would also mean that he’d be more than willing and capable of helping you with making friends and the surrounding struggle.

Hetalia

-> canada / matthew williams

although his prominent introversion would mean that he’d struggle with helping you make friends out of those you’ve each made independently, it would allow him to more deeply and genuinely understand you and your struggles in that regard - minimising the risk of you being misunderstood or being dragged into anything resembling a heated argument. he’s immensely loyal and patient with you and would be your cheerleader from the sidelines as you pursue your interests - offering plentiful assurances about your looks, personality and anything else that’s worrying you along the way. that being said, the goofier aspects of his personality would be quite solidly reserved for when the two of you are alone.

My Hero Academia

-> uraraka ochako

ochako is an incredibly friendly and positive person by nature, so you can guarantee that she’ll offer you endless support and reassurance when it comes to your passions, goals and her feelings for you. she’ll help you branch out and make friends without complaint and she’ll keep note of your concerns by avoiding raising her voice around you where possible and making great efforts to prevent any misunderstandings from occurring. another method she’ll employ to help you is by allowing you to work through the worries you have and helping you rationalise them without minimising or dismissing the concerns you have - and just generally supporting you in anyway you need her to. she’s also just an incredibly fun person to be around who’s not afraid to laugh and make others laugh.

#sleepingdeath #match up request #bnha match up #mha match up #cookie run match up #hetalia match up #match ups are closed

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foxfootyinternship · 1 year

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Reflection on your supervisor evaluations and how these align with your future career professional development requirements

I was incredibly humbled by the final evaluation. The feedback clearly showed that I made the most out of my time at Fox Footy and ensured that I brought an attitude to learn and grow.

Lynne’s feedback regarding working long hours and taking on guidance was something that I strengthened significantly during the internship and will certainly be something that I will take to any organisation in the industry. Sports media in particular demand long days and odd hours, and I am now more prepared to undertake this.

Working on my own became a strength during my time at Fox, and I found that over time I was able to go and complete briefs/tasks with little assistance.

My ability to work under pressure, especially in the pressure cooker environment of sports broadcasting is still something that can be worked on and over time.

Lynne’s feedback regarding jumping the gun with questions and preempting events is something that I will use going forward. It is important to find a balance between asking questions and waiting for something to evolve in front of you. I do find that I can have a tendency to be overwhelmed and want to know everything quickly rather than taking the time to learn and let the process unfold. This was particually evident when working in the control room with the directors, producers and EVS operators. Going into the industry, I need to learn to grow more patient and measured.

The technical skills and abilities that I had going into the internship I thought was one of my weakest areas. To walk away with a comprehensive understanding of industry standard vision sourcing programs will be a major asset to an organisation and something that I will showcase on my resume.

Passion, although not a skill necessarily- is something that I pride myself on and I see as a big driver in being successful long term as a sports media professional. If you bring a passion for the game and the work involved it motivates you to become the best person that you can. According to Jung (2022), passion leads to more job satisfaction overall and more retention within a workplace.

My analytical skills are transferable to different sports and environments, but they seem to have sharpened over the course of the internship as well as my problem solving skills. Over the course of my time at Fox Footy, not everything was smooth sailing and I learnt from others how to stay calm in a crisis- especially during live TV. This rubbed off on me and I noticed that I remained a lot more calm when tasked with something that may not have gone to plan initially. This will be important moving into industry.

Many of the skills that I brought to the internship were sharpened and built upon, and I gained along the way a whole new set and discovered things about myself in an environment that was initially so foreign that I gained a confidence in. I never saw some of the skills such as resourcefulness as being a quality of mine until experiences and tasks at Fox Footy brought these out in me.

Jung, Yeseul, 2022, Does work passion benefit or hinder employee’s career commitment? The mediating role of work–family interface and the moderating role of autonomy support, PLOS One, vol.17, no.6, p.p 14-26, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC9165830/

Above: The Control Room- which once was my enemy and now my friend.

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pyrodancer89 · 2 years

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#brokenhipdiary #longpost #pleaseread 8 months ago, I left the hospital, overwhelmed and confused. I was used to being independent and adventurous, now I would require physical assistance just to get dressed. The song "Heaven Help Me" by Ryan Adams became my theme song. Major, life changing surgery had certainly never been in my life plans, why was it in God's plan for me? I didn't and still don't know. What I do know is I was incredibly blessed to have a strong support system of family and friends, skilled medical assistance, and the gift of music to help soothe my ever fluctuating emotions. This side of Heaven I'll probably never understand why this injury was part of God's plan for my life. I guess when you pray for patience, you gotta be specific that you're not trying to be a patient 😅 Let's be honest, we can all say God is good when times are easy and prosperous, but it's when the chips are down that we find out how strong our faith really is. Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future". 8 months later, I am walking and driving and so grateful to God for healing 💜 https://www.instagram.com/p/CkPd-9oOweZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#brokenhipdiary #longpost #pleaseread

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