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politemagic · 2 months

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Sleep Token Living in a Haunted House

These headcanons are based on this meme I made the other night. I had a lot of thoughts on the eepies living in a haunted house, a lot of them are inspired by the show Ghosts if you've seen it. I had a lot of fun writing these so I hope you like em♡

1.45k words (she got lengthy so i added a keep reading)

➺ Thanks to a few years of communing with an ancient deity, Vessel has become quite attuned to the spirit realm. Everywhere he goes, he can sense the presence of the souls unable to move on from the mortal plane.

➺ When they first step foot in their new home, Vessel immediately feels like he’s being suffocated by the amount of activity in the house. He tries to identify the spirit, but there’s too many to even keep count, the grand foyer a whirlwind of translucent figures in various period attire.

➺ When they sit down for dinner at the end of the day, Vessel decides to tell the others about their spectral roommates. After observing them for the better part of the day, he hasn’t picked up on any signs that they’d be malicious, they honestly just seemed to carry on with their lives despite being dead.

➺ II just shrugs. From what Vessel's told him in the past, there are ghosts just about everywhere you go, and they haven't bothered him yet. He imagines it won't be much different living in a haunted house, if the spirits are as tame as Vessel seems to believe they are.

➺ Really, II just feels bad for Vessel. He knows that he'll be able to live in peace, unable to see, hear, or even sense the ghosts, but he knows Vessel isn't afforded that same luxury. He just hopes he will be able to find some form of solace from the constant commotion Vessel was describing.

➺ III is way too excited. As a kid, he always dreamed of living in a haunted house filled with a bunch of ghost friends. He’s always secretly been a little jealous of Vessel’s gift, but if he lived in a haunted house… Maybe he could find a way to communicate with them himself.

➺ Two days later, Vessel knocks on his door only to find III seated in the middle of a ring of candles, mumbling some words he knew were just gibberish. His interruption earns him a pointed glare as III explained to Vessel that he wanted to make sure that the ghosts knew it was okay to talk to him, so he wanted to reach out first.

➺ In the long run, it might have been better for the ghosts if they had left III alone.

➺ One night, he was trying yet another method of communication with the ghosts after exhausting most of the suggestions he found online. The Ouija Board started out as a joke, a housewarming present from Espera given after they had been filled in on the house’s haunted status. But III decided it was worth a shot.

➺ He had been at it for about a week at that point, and he was starting to think that Vessel was full of shit when he said the house was haunted. That was, until he sat with his fingers resting on the planchette and asked if he should give up.

➺ The planchette drifts slowly over to the “No” and III was over the moon. Using the Ouija Board suddenly became his favorite activity.

➺ He asks them any questions he thinks of. He’ll ask for opinions on things like his outfit or if a classic novel was worth the read. “They were there when it came out, I figured they’d know!”

➺ The ghosts plead with Vessel to get him to stop (in my own personal hc the ouija board emits a sound or something that beckons the spirits and they actually find it really annoying).

➺ When Vessel tried gently suggesting III use Google instead, he insisted that he preferred “Ghoul-gle”. (i'm so sorry). Vessel knew better than to try and dissuade him any further.

➺ IV is equally as excited as III, but it’s more from a root of curiosity than a root of fantastical dreams. He’s always been fascinated by ghosts, sometimes even wondering if he might be a little “sensitive” himself, though he never experienced anything like what Vessel described.

➺ He spends a lot of his time as they’re settling into the house researching the different people who have died in the house. He’ll print out news articles and stuff to show Vessel, asking if that person still haunted the house.

➺ He has a note on his phone where he keeps track of the different ghosts and what he knows about them. He tries to keep track of where the different ghosts tend to hang out, so he can be aware of who might be around any time he’s wandering the house. (in the US version of Ghosts Jay has a note on his phone that’s all the different specifics of how ghosts work. I think he would have that too for sure)

➺ IV would never openly admit it, but sometimes, when he’s alone, he’ll talk aloud to the empty rooms. He doesn’t try as hard as III because he’s overhead Vessel tell him to ease up a few times. But he secretly wants to talk to the ghosts so badly, and thinks it just isn't fair that Ves is the only one with the ability (he doesn’t think it’s fair to him or to Vessel).

➺ The ghosts were constantly talking Vessel's ear off, excited to finally have someone who can hear them! They'll ask him to do different things for them, like open a window, turn on some music, or leave the television on while they're out of the house.

➺ Vessel is still navigating the best ways to set boundaries with the ghosts so he can, you know, live his life. He already lives in the service of Sleep, he really doesn’t need to be serving the will of these ghosts on top of that.

➺ Sometimes he’s very receptive to their requests, and other times he can be quite crass in his denial. Slowly, they begin to work out some systems as to what they can ask for and when they can ask him about it, and for the most part they’re very respectful of his space and offer their own help when they can.

➺ Outside of Vessel, the ghosts have also taken a shine to II (probably because he’s the most chill™), taking it upon themselves to help him in any ways they saw fit. It could be anything as menial as closing the door when someone forgets to shut it all the way so that he doesn't have to get up from his seat, or once he swore he felt a sudden, cold presence engulf him when he complained about the heat while practicing his drumming.

➺ As you can imagine, III was very jealous when he walked into the kitchen one evening to see a coffee mug carefully floating down from the top shelf as II fixed himself a cup of tea.

➺ He was pouty the rest of the day, not understanding why they would prefer II. When II tried to suggest that maybe it was because he left them be, III insisted that II just didn’t understand them the way he did. “Maybe if you bothered to talk to them, you’d learn they were real chatterboxes!”

➺ IV expresses his silent jealousy of II's status as the ghosts' favorite non-medium in the house differently than III. Instead of moping, he pays attention to the little things Vessel did for them, and he makes a point to do them himself as well.

➺ He winds up becoming quite a talented baker after learning that the ghosts loved the smell of cookies. The aroma of his chocolate chip cookies quickly won over a few of the ghosts. (I’m just gonna say it. I think there’s a female ghost from like the 1800s in that house with a little bit of a crush on him. He’s attractive, thoughtful, and knows his way around a kitchen. That’s what dreams are made of right there)

➺ Though IV really won them over when he snuck into III’s room and threw the Ouija Board away.

➺ III decided that he didn’t like ghosts anymore when IV showed him the picture of the “Thank you ♡” left in the steam on the mirror after his shower.

Bonus bc I like the idea:

➺ One night at dinner, IV makes a playful jab at III but instead of hearing the expected laughter of his friends and bandmates, he swears he hears the laughter of a woman.

➺ Later, IV asks Vessel about it in private. He laughs and confirms that yes, he did indeed hear ghost laughter. Evidently the former lady of the house found his comment to be very amusing.

#these were just some silly ideas rattling around in my brain but i hope you enjoy them!!!#if you have thoughts please please please share them i want to read them <3 #also consider this my formal invitation to anyone to come scream with me about sleep token #this is my first time posting anything like this for sleep token im surprised it took so long?#sleep token #sleep token headcanons #worshitposting #sleep token vessel #sleep token ii #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #em's stcu #(gang pls don't let this flop)

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hayatheauthor · 3 months

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Update Regarding My Sudden Hiatus + Author/Publishing News

Guess who's back from the dead!

Jokes aside, I truly do feel terrible for going on hiatus without saying anything, and then I come back and see that I've hit 2k (which btw is absolutely amazing and left me shell-shocked) and that just made me feel worse for leaving unannounced. So, here's everything that's been going on:

(click read more if you want to learn about my experience at my first writer's workshop & pitching to an agent ++ publishing updates for The Traitor's Throne)

If you DON'T want to read more: long story short I'm back and will revamp this blog Monday onwards.

Would you look at that I'm finally getting the hang of Tumblr etiquette!

Anyways, I know if I took the liberty of casually explaining everything we would just be here all day and I would ramble endlessly SO, I'm going to summarise everything into a list:

One of the biggest reasons for my departure was because *insert drum roll* I graduated! That's right, your girl is officially a diploma holder and ready to conquer college! Although I've seen the 'finals week or my final week' meme enough times to start questioning what I signed up for.

My writing life has been a little...disappointing. There's no other way to break it to you folks, but when I started this blog, I was knee-deep in the query trenches, and now, I'm still there. Does that suck? Yes. Am I going to give up? Absolutely not! BUT I do have some changes planned:

I've officially decided if this final shot at traditional publishing doesn't do well, I'm going to give in and self-publish The Traitor's Throne in May-June 2024. Which means you might potentially be able to purchase my baby pretty soon!

BUT I decided to give querying one last shot and actually joined a writer's workshop (which is going on as we speak btw). I joined the online Boston Writing Workshop, I'll drop a review on that on Sunday, but so far I've actually learned A LOT from it, and have decided to give querying another go while implementing what I've learned. Dw I'll also be putting out a review about the workshop on Sunday.

So, here's a summary: I've created a self-publishing deadline for my current project while also giving traditional publishing a final shot. I also joined my first ever writer's workshop this weekend and will be pitching to agents for the first time.

Overall, I think my lack of success in the querying scene kind of made me feel like a fraud when giving writing advice. I'm the type of author who does A LOT of research when I write, which is why I have so many tips on so many topics, but that doesn't make me an expert.

This workshop especially made me realise I've been making some rookie mistakes and focused so much on my story that I forgot the query and synopsis are just as important. Maybe this realisation came too late and I've lost my chance of traditionally publishing The Traitor's Throne, but I am grateful for everything it's taught me.

ANYWAYS—see what I meant by we'd be here the whole day if I didn't use a list??

Let's get back to the important stuff; yes, I will start putting out blogs again, and answering my asks. I'm also thinking of launching a beta reader project where I'll beta read some of your works for free! Stay tuned to see that announcement since it'll come soon.

Thank you so much for supporting this silly little blog of mine, and I hope you have a good weekend! As always, I'll see you on Monday! 💕✨

#hayatheauthor #haya sameer #writing community #haya's book blog #writing tools #writer things #haya blogs #writer community #writing advice #writer tips #querying process #querying #querying agents #haya: talks #haya: navi

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aeor-is-for-reccing · 1 year

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This week we have twenty-three amazing fics to share involving Essek and another member of his family! Due to the nature of this theme, we have expanded our list this week to include some gen fics, along with fics where shadowgast is technically the secondary pairing. Read more under the cut!

what luminous worlds await by essektheylyss (midnightindigo) (178674, Mature) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, tags include: Violence, Minor Character Death,Implied/Referenced Self-Harm Set a milennia after c2, Essek-the champion of the Luxon-wakes up to a world he's not familiar with anymore. But he's not facing things alone and may just find possibilities he does not expect. Reccer says: Specific to this week's theme: inclusion of a wonderfully complex Deirta in particular! As well as Verin who helps Essek on his journey. Overall a wonderfully touching story with complex characters and relationships, countless gorgeous scenes and a wonderful flavor of shadowgast

A Family Affair, or The Arrival of Verin Thelyss and All That It Entails by Dragonslaeyr (21471, Teen) Warnings: None 5+1 times Caleb encountered Verin Thelyss, and maybe misunderstood who he was to Essek Reccer says: Absolutely hilarious misunderstanding and mutual pinings fic

Get Help by professor (515, Teen) Warnings: no warnings Post canon, the M9 have been captured. Essek enlists his brother Verin to help rescue them. Reccer says: It's a meme shitpost in ficlet form but I always laugh when I read it.

some things time can't fix by Chrome (25930, Mature) Warnings: None A Daemon AU, Essek is captured by the Dynasty, Caleb manages to rescue him before they execute him, but not before Essek gets severed from his Daemon. Caleb has to race to find a way to reconnect Essek and his daemon before they fade away and die. Reccer says: Another wonderful, heart-rending hurt/comfort fic by Chrome; it's also maybe the only fic I've ever read that depicts Deirta as 100% a good and loving mother to Essek. It's not the main focus of the fic (she doesn't show up until the last chapter) but it's a refreshing change of pace after reading a billion Bad Mom Deirta Thelyss fics.

the last true mouthpiece by hanap (35722, Teen) Warnings: None Essek has been chosen by the Luxon, but all Verin sees is his brother being corrupted by the light Reccer says: Heartrending take on the Thelyss family relationship and Essek's faith

No One by that Name Lives Here Anymore by Operafloozy (13138, Teen) Warnings: None Caleb and Essek run into a reincarnated Essek's Father in Uthodurn. Reccer says: It's a beautifully written fic about a complicated relationship that delves into what consecution might be like. Comes with a commentary track and a sequel I haven't read yet.

The Secret Romance of Essek Thelyss by Cardinal_Daughter (18629, Explicit) Warnings: None Essek wants to celebrate his and Caleb's anniversary and his mother has other plans. With a sprinkling of Verin at the end. Reccer says: I love this and the fic it's a sequel for (you don't have to have read the first one but they're both great)

Rendezvous with a Ghost by kaeda (12344, Teen) Warnings: None Verin thinks Essek is dead until he shows up to invite him to his wedding. Verin spends most of the fic confused. Reccer says: Nothing

the wreck of all we burnt by essektheylyss (midnightindigo) (6617, Mature) Warnings: None Essek's mother has died and Essek has never learned how to mourn Reccer says: a wonderful exploration of grief or lack thereof

OPERATION: HOT BOI LIBERATION (or: How I Spent My Spring Break in Rexxentrum, by Verin of Den Thelyss) by CatgirlTheCrazy (6404, Mature) Warnings: None Verin thinks Caleb is holding Essek hostage, chaos ensues Reccer says: Verin discovers what a cat is

interim by vagabondfirefly (995, General) Warnings: None Verin witnesses a private moment Reccer says: It's so soft your honour

The Governess by Professor_Rye (13826, General) Warnings: None Essek and Verin's childhood through the lens of their nurse maid Reccer says: So sweet and touching it made my heart ache, I fell in love with the boys alongside their nanny

That's why it's hotter under the water by professor (3231, Teen) Warnings: no warnings The Thelyss brothers find out firsthand that sometimes genetics are really fucking weird. Reccer says: So many hijinx and shenanigans. Verin is peak himbo, and Essek is facepalming forever.

jam and noodles by royalgreen (allyoop) (2578, General) Warnings: No warnings A magical mishap brings two brothers closer together. Or, Essek runs afoul of some Aeorian magic, and the M9 call in Verin for help. Reccer says: Excellent brotherly bonding, the chaos of Verin meeting Jester, and a fun cameo from Long Essek.

The Chosen AU by Anonymous (90296, Explicit) Warnings: Incest, cannibalism, violence, mental illness and trauma A dark AU where Essek is the chosen of the Luxon and Verin is a paladin. They have left the dynasty and found a home in Port Damali. There they meet friends, both OCs and the M9. Caleb soon becomes a part of their relationship. Reccer says: The language and storytelling is smart and witty. Both horrible and cute things are described with a raw and unforgiving tone, in a way that makes me hungrily gulp down the text. Essek's powers are horrifying and mysterious and the story is told non-chronologically in a way that really works. The glimpses of calm, love and friendship are so sweet when they come. A warning though: the brothers have a sexual relationship. However, it's not overtly explicit.

Family Resemblence by firefright (1289, General) Warnings: None Verin meets his niece. Reccer says: Tooth-achingly sweet, this fic is an adorable look at shadowgast and their family post-canon.

the loudest voice in my head is my mother by hanap (2800, Teen) Warnings: None A pregnant Essek is visited by his mother and has to face conversations he tried to avoid Reccer says: Delicious choice of a POV that will have you rereading the fic to catch all the subtleties

and after the scripture (your mother beside me) by SaltCore (9531, Mature) Warnings: Canon typical death and resurrection, grief/mourning Essek has died, but don't worry, he gets better. When the m9 goes there to get his body they meet Dierta. Reccer says: This is the best Dierta I have read. She is incredibly complex and human, in a way that made my heart ache.

the edge of the blade by jaskofalltrades (56205, Teen) Warnings: None Essek and Caleb are forced to fake an engagement, to get out of one Deirta had arranged. Reccer says: Very interesting read, the political machinations make the story very tense, and the oining between Caleb and Essek is delicious!

And two recs each for

how language fills the cracks by hanap (5027, Teen) Warnings: None Essek discovers he's an uncle, to his shock. Reccer 1 says: It's very sweet, for a lot of reasons, and keeps you surprised! Reccer 2 says: It's so sweet.

All Things in Perspective by firefright (20729, Mature) Warnings: None Verin has a lot of questions about the supposed "death" of his brother in Eiselcross. He eventually finds the Mighty Nein and gets the answers he's looking for, but some are a lot harder to swallow than others. Reccer 1 says: This fic is perhaps my favorite "Verin meets his brothers new friends and finds out what he did" fic of all time, and written by one of the best Verin writers in the whole fandom. Verin is the peak Lawful Good himbo to complement Essek's formerly-neutral-evil-war-criminal, and they are the perfect balance of "would die for each other" and "constantly give each other shit." Also uses outsider POV brilliantly to highlight just how drastically the Mighty Nein changed Essek. Reccer 2 says: It's heartfelt, it's comedic at times and the brotherly bond feels believable. Bonus points for Verin's POV - we get to see his reactions to the Nein.

Lay Your Bones by LadyOrpheus (53587, Teen) Warnings: Small, nondescriptive flashback to a miscarriage After Essek is captured and turned over to the Dynasty, Verin has to pick up… the pieces? No, not quite, but he does have to pick up Essek's daughter. A race against time as Verin tries to save his brother's life. Reccer 1 says: This is THE verin fic for me. You fully buy into his anger and his forgiveness. Dierta is also so complicated and tasty. Reccer 2 says: Lovely Verin-centered fic with incredibly cute moments with Essek's child and a lot of interaction with the Nein

And then three recs for

path of the traveled sun by mousecookie (6008, General) Warnings: None Verin is invited to Rumblecusp with the Nein and Essek, and is amazed by how much Essek has changed. Reccer 1 says: SOFT. Reccer 2 says: It's incredibly warm, but it doesn't shy away from complicated feelings. Nice characterisation. Cute baby. Reccer says: Nothing

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast.

Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week's theme is Scourger/Evil AU, so stay tuned!

#critical role fan fiction #fan fic recs #shadowgast #Verin Thelyss #Deirta Thelyss #aeor is for lovers #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 1 year

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Something I really appreciate about your writing is that you make the kids feel like actual teenagers. I have to ask, how do you get the characterization down when your writing? It's something I struggle to do, even when I go back to the original source.

Going back to the original source is a good start. Characterization goes deeper than simply ‘this character is nice’ or ‘this character is funny.’ Let’s look at Izuku for example. He’s kind and smart, but so are several other students. Something specific to him is that he doesn’t have much of a sense of humor; he doesn’t tell any jokes and rarely laughs at those made by others. Compare this to someone like Uraraka, who occasionally makes teasing comments about her friends, versus Sero or Mina who make jokes at the expense of their classmates pretty often. Back to Izuku, this fact about him contributes to a general sense of his social awkwardness, which my writing interprets in a few additional ways. I feel like his lack of humor and awkwardness would extend to trouble with nicknames, giving or receiving, further evidenced by his struggling in canon to call Tsuyu by the nicknames she wants to be called by. Kacchan on the other hand is out of habit, which combined with his issues visualizing One for All as a part of himself early on indicates he has a hard time breaking habits once he’s set on them. Even the fact that it took him so long to realize that he could adopt a kicking fight style is more evidence of this. And then a reoccurring feature in my fics is that Izuku isn’t a touchy-freely person. There’s not much evidence in canon for this, except that despite him and his Mom being close, they don’t touch often. This might not actually be the case, but that’s part of where my idea came from, and it fits back into that awkwardness. Little things like that can say a lot about a character and how they approach different situations.

As for writing teenagers in general, a common mistake i see in both fic and original content is the assumption that all you need to write believable teenagers is to throw in a bunch of modern slang and references. Think Riverdale, bad crack fics, and 90s anti-drug PSAs. Not only is this often handled poorly (incorrect slang use or misjudged references) it also quickly dates the writing. Memes can take years to reach big names in the entertainment industry, and then it takes another few years for a movie featuring those memes to come out. By then, the meme is dead and cringe. In this day and age, memes can have a much shorter shelf life, living and dying within a week. Even if you release an fic chapter during the peak of a meme’s life cycle, it’s only going to be funny to the people who read it then and there; everyone who jumps on the fic later will just cringe. And there’s no way to tell which ones with have the staying power of something like a rickroll or a classic vine.

The solution: don’t do this. Avoid overusing slang and meme speak, and instead implement more general/timeless dialogue. Slang like ‘dude’ has been in the lexicon long enough that it feels normal, and while ‘mood’ and ‘vibe’ are fairly new, they aren’t as obtrusive as ‘bae’ which is falling out of style, or ‘boomer’ which references a specific group of people. Basically, the more general and common, the better. And keep the time period of your story in mind; MHA for example takes place at least a century in the future, why would the kids of that era still be complaining about boomers? Teenagers still act immaturely sometimes and make jokes, but try and find the humor in the specific situation of the story rather than quoting something else. Teens are also more openly casual than adults. Teasing, touching, maybe saying something rude or inappropriate. One simple way to convey casual speech is to use more contractions; i.e. ‘can’t’ instead of ‘cannot’ or ‘we’re gonna’ instead of ‘we are going to.’ This is my advice for all dialogue: read it to yourself outloud and ask if it sounds like something a real person would actually say. Exaggeration is also good. ‘My life is over!’ when their crush doesn’t like them back, or a big group groan at a pop quiz.

As for the internal experience of being a teenager, the thing i remember most about being that age in the tension between suddenly being expected to be ready for things and take care of myself when i didn’t feel ready, but still being treated like a dumb child in other ways i thought i was ready for. You start understanding more things when you get older and want people to take you seriously as a result, but you’re also insecure about the things you don’t understand and maybe overcompensate. In short, being a teenager comes with a lot of confusing, frustrating changes, some of which are absolutely unfair, but there are a few you genuinely bring upon yourself.

Hope this helps you get started. If not, or you have other questions, the ask box is always open.

#writing tips #answers

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gunmetalgrey · 7 months

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For @coveitous from this meme and fuck me it got long I’m sorry.

💜

He stayed. Somewhere, between stolen cigarettes and lusty moments, she had given him the emotional bandwidth to stick around. It was hard to think back to an actual tie line of when things started to blur, she had been to his place a dozen times now but despite spending time in his bed she had never truly slept there. She had pretended for an hour, or let him drift off before finding her things and leaving a post it. It wasn’t like she was going to sleep in his presence so why waste it? There were very few places she could truly let her guard down and rest, and knowing there was only one dead bolt on his front door did not let her rest easy. He never seemed to take it personally.

Yet the look Grey shot back at the tone of surprise in her voice was almost like he was offended. The surprise wasn’t really about the staying so much as the fact it was the first hoarse words that had left her lips in nearly three weeks, her voice half gone and croaky from lack of use. But there was no way he could know that.

For the month, they hadn’t seen one another. She, had a job somewhere that was sure to be dangerous and he was just going to have to wait for her to reappear again. When Alex had finally made it back to London, her life had begun to fall apart. For the following three weeks, she hadn’t been able to leave her front door. For the first two, she hadn’t left the coat cupboard. Things had become… well, a shit show. And after all this time spent with her heartbeat in hear eardrums, or listening to Victor letting himself in to remind her to eat, she had made it as far as Greys work when she knew he was going to be finishing.

The intention had been one last look to cut him off. A goodbye he’d never know about and then off to the next thing. Funny, how it had descended so quickly into her legs wrapped around his waist and their tongues tying each other in knots. There were no words between kisses, no words in the cab and nothing but pleasure as she finally reminded herself why she had sought him out in the first place. Being with him felt good. Good in a way that words couldn’t express if she wanted them to.

And as things finally came to a point of exhaustion, with tingling legs and ringing ears, she rolled away from Grey to immediately find the peace of sleep. She barely even noticed the sighs they shared as she drifted off, still in her giant t shirt. She slept like the dead. Weighted, still, motionless. The kind of tired that came from weeks of unchecked insomnia running rampant. And given the dark in her flat it was impossible to tell what time of day her eyes had opened to find the sight of him… still there.

She looks at him. She truly looks at him, with creases from the sheets on his face and shuffling to get comfortable before she sits herself up and crawls into his lap. Her head settles over his shoulder, chin gently resting there and arms draped over his back in the kind of way you might carry a sleeping child to bed. She needed to talk.

“I-“ that was too direct a starting point.

She let the syllables stew this time, her tongue running along the roof of her mouth for a good thirty seconds before attempt two.

“…it’s…”

That was not better. Because even with the first word out of the way, the sentences faltered.

“ … t-th-there’s…”

And this was the issue. Because her words had started to turn to honey, gluing themselves somewhere between her brain and her lips so that they never made an efficient escape.

She sighs. And she climbs off him slowly and carefully. The shirt makes almost a dress on her, clambering over the edge of the bed and heading to the door back to the kitchen before motioning for him to follow.

#coveitous #coveitous thread news #( v2: shoot to kill )#this got long so thank the flu brain.#no I won’t spellcheck it bc whatever delusional mistakes I made we are now living with.

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clatoera · 8 months

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Always Remember We're Burned for Better Chapter 18: Not My Homeland Anymore...So What Am I Defending?

Howdy guys! Here we are. Chapter 18. It's.. a big one. And important one. With the big declaration of loyalty from Cato and Clove, which everyone knew was coming. I got the 'vid while writing this so it took forever. I cannot believe we only have three more chapters after this. What a wild it has been.

Title from exile (t swift)

AO3

Masterpost

As always. Thank you to my besties. You are truly the reason I am capable of writing. @ohhowwehavefallen is my literal sounding board and helps me as my dictionary of panem. @kentwells listens to me whine daily, and @crookedlyniceperson I'm not sure what the meme content here is but...it's coming!

That being said..the things said here are not final.. They are SPECULATING. They don't know who's alive out there. Thats all i'm gonna say.

“Great job Clove, that's it baby.” Cato half hollers, half grins, giving her a reassuring pat on her hip before he crosses towards the front of the armory, to gather the precious five knives she had to throw. He recollects them from the outside in, each knife lodging closer and closer to the center of the target. “You’re getting better.”

“Not good enough.” Clove groans, rolling her right wrist out in the couple of seconds she has between rounds of tossing her knives. They had worked on this for weeks– maybe it was even close to a month, now– and while she was getting closer and closer to herself she still had what Cato would call limitations. She would call them failures, of course. Namely, being that she could only get about a dozen or so throws in before her shoulder and wrist began to feel that dull throb deep inside the joint spaces. “Enobaria would fucking kill me if she saw me now.”

“Enobaria isn’t my biggest fan, but I think she’d agree with me, Clove.” Cato raises an eyebrow at the girl, holding out one of the knives for her to take back. “I think she’d just be glad to see you alive.”

“Think she’s alive out there? Or Brutus?” Clove cocks her head, cracking her neck side to side before bringing the knife up past her shoulder. When she flicks her wrist and releases the blade, it lodges itself only a couple of inches left of the target. She slams her fist down in defeat, a dissatisfied whine escaping her. “If we were in the games i’d be fucking dead already.”

“I don’t know who’s alive. I don’t know what's left out there.” He admits to her, handing another knife out blade forward. “Good thing we aren’t in the games then, right? Just a war.”

She laughs, for about half a second, before she lodges another knife immediately to the right of her last. “For fucks sake!”

“That was technically closer than last time-” Cato is interrupted when the heavy metal doors to the armory swing upward, and the clicking shoes that echo towards them are revealed to belong to their very own ex-gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee.

“Cato..Clove.” The man greets, giving them each a very informal nod. “Theres are very own District Thirteen careers–”

“We aren’t from thirteen.” Clove snaps, but brings the knife in her hand to rest on her hip rather than throw it in front of him. Old Clove would have thrown knife after knife and hit the target time after time. Intimidation tactics and all that. Missing the center wasn’t going to impress anyone– it might even make her look like a target.

“What do you want, Plutarch?” Cato takes a step closer to Clove, draping his arm over her shoulders possessively– or maybe it’s protectively.

“If you two will follow me… it’s urgent.”

Cato and Clove shoot each other a look, but when Cato gives an imperceptible nod of the head, they take the steps forward to follow the leader together.

“A word of advice? Agree to this.” Is all Plutarch warns as they weave down hallways and descend to even deeper levels of the fortress that is District Thirteen.

They are eventually led to a room, filled with only three others. Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, and one Alma Coin.

“Please. Sit.” The president urges them first, nodding to two chairs across a broad board-room style table. There's something in the energy in the room that keeps them from putting up a fight or questioning it– a tension that they know better than to add to from years and years of academy training.

“I will make this short. District Two is the last of the districts aligned with the Capitol and Snow. As you two are well aware, it’s also the military center for the country. With Two on their side, the Capitol can continue this fight. That's where we are bringing you two in. Katniss here-” The gray haired woman gently gestures her left hand to her side, where Katniss sits nearly expressionless except for something frantic dancing behind her eyes. “Has assured of the loyalty you two have formed to our cause. We are sending you two to District Two, along with Katniss and the others. It is your responsibility to bring your home to the side of our cause.”

“District Two has long had loyalties to the Capitol. It’s what we’re raised on, I don’t know if they’ll listen to us.” Cato hesitates, leaning back in his chair and bringing his arms across his chest. “They probably see us as traitors.”

“Let me make something abundantly clear. This is a courtesy to your district. The numbers across the districts make me hesitate to outwardly destroy Two, in terms of population left to recover from the war. But we will not allow Two to stand between us and victory. If you cannot convince them, that is fine. We will handle this accordingly. And if the two of you show any sign of loyalty to them? The consequences will be dire.” President Coin pushes herself back from the chair and stands, straightening the front of her suit jacket.

“What if we don’t want-” Clove starts, but is very quickly shot a lot of fear from Katniss before one of utter disdain fills the gray eyes of Coin.

“This is not a request, Miss Kentwell. This is an order.” The clicking of her shoes echoes in the borderline empty room as she heads towards the door. “You leave in an hour.”

A guard follows her out, and as soon as the victors are left behind with Plutarch, Clove’s head whips around to face them. “Convince our district? They aren’t going to listen to us, they’ll think we’re just traitors!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. There is some resistance in two, it’s there, but you two do have the power of being one of them.” Plutarch lowers himself to sit beside Cato, and he gestures between Cato and Clove. “The two of you are the best Two has to offer. And you have proven your district loyalty again and again. And now you can show that even the best of you, especially you, Clove, are not immune to the brutality of the Capitol and Snow. It’s a powerful testimony you can offer.”

“And what if they don’t like what I have to say?” Clove scoffs, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her chair next to Cato, mirroring the same irritated posture. “What am I supposed to do? Show them my x-rays.”

“Tell them what they did to you.” Haymitch suggests, chiming in and leaning towards them, adjusting the beanie on his head before he does so. “There's other victors out there in Two, You know that. You have family, you probably have friends…okay maybe no friends but I know that you have family, Cato.”

“What did she mean by the loyalty thing..does she think we're going to turn back to the Capitol after what they did to her?” Cato suggests, looking at Katniss for the answer, the tense history of her and Coin not quite a secret to him.

“If there is any…concern..that you two may still have loyalties to the Capitol, yes there will be consequences.” Plutarch interjects, but not before Katniss can take over.

“She’ll probably have you killed.” Katniss admits. “I wouldn't put anything past her these days.”

—

The ride to two is harrowing and silent. It takes a couple hours, maybe. Not that either can tell, not without windows to mark their journey. Not that either dares to speak, either.

They sit side by side, backs against a metal wall with legs touching in utter and complete silence.

Best not indicate sympathies and be shot before they even land.

–

The landing is aggressive and jarring, and would have knocked them to the ground had they not already been sitting. Still, it knocks Clove more harshly into him and she grabs at his thigh to brace herself with the rough landing.

“Are we ready for this?” Clove half whispers, tightening her grip on his thigh, not looking up so that her hair would shield them from their conversation being held.

“We have to be.” His hand found hers and squeezed, before the large door at the front of the craft began to open. They scramble to push themselves to a standing position, before guards with guns can assemble around Katniss and lead her out.

They follow last, hesitation flooding through them both as they stand at the top of the metal sloping door. Clove pauses first, Cato stiffening beside her as the undisguisable sound of bombing echoes through the hollow metal.

“Are you coming?” Someone calls up to them, and it doesn't matter who, because they take the steps down into the open town square of what was once their home.

The first look is shocking, to say the least.

There are no words to explain the feeling of seeing your home resolved to rubble.

There are no words for seeing the ashes of your childhood school, or the crater that now sits where the rest of the Justice Building once was, or the resounding sounds of more explosions off in the mountains.

There are no words for the horror that hits Cato and Clove in the very core of who they are.

“Cato, what’s happened to this place?” Clove whispers, squinting into the distance where she can see rising smoke along the entirety of the mountain range their houses and the various villages and mines once were. “What have they done–”

“There's no time to explain that right now” Haymitch interrupts, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. “We need to get inside”

They are numb, completely numb as they are led into the remnants of the justice building. T

They ascend the marble steps, slipping past the crumbling pillars and broken stairs, and Clove cannot help but remember the last time they had climbed these stairs, hand in hand, formally and officially married.

Cato tightens the grip on her arm, clearly thinking the exact same thing.

“We’re never even going to get to tell anyone.” Clove reminds him in a harsh whimper, once they are under the cover of the marble archway. “There's no one left.”

“We don’t know that..” But he cannot outright deny it.

When they hear a booming voice welcoming them to District Two, Clove sees red.

“Cato, Clove. Welcome home. You are a welcome addition to our cause.” Lyme, now ‘Commander’ Lyme calls out, a welcoming and nearly warm smile on her face. “I was shocked to hear of your shifted alliance, but we are nonetheless happy to have you.”

“Oh go to hell,” Clove hisses, and the arm that was around her arm slips around her waist as Cato instinctively knows to hold her back. “You sent us to die, you fucking cunt.” She struggles against Cato’s grip, but he does not let her go, he does let her fidget.

“Clove, You have to understand. I didn’t want to send you in, but I couldn’t go. I was part of something bigger, that you are now part of too, surely you understand–”

“They left her to die! Like hell do we understand! You sent us in there, willing to kill us both for this!” Cato agrees, but due to his struggling wife in his arms he cannot take a step towards the other ex victor, no matter how his anger may want him to.

“To die for this cause is a price we all must be willing to make-” Lyme insists, but her calm demeanor only serves to anger them more.

“Yeah. But YOU weren’t willing to be the one to do it. Sacrifice us! Because killing your young is how we survive, right? Isn’t that the point of the games!” Clove nearly screams, but Haymitch, once again playing peacekeeper, is stepping between them.

“This is not helping, and you know it, Clove.” He insists.

“Where is Enobaria! You wanted to preserve the other victors, where is she!” Clove growls, finally breaking free of Cato’s grasp, her long-earned resolve not breaking when she realizes just how much that hurt.

“Clove, I can’t tell you that information–”

“Where. Is. She? And Brutus! Are they alive where ARE they?” She insists, now the center of attention in the entire room, all eyes focused on the mad woman they plucked out of the Capitol.

“I can’t tell you those things.” Lyme doubles down, before turning away from them, now addressing a broader group around the table.

“Do you think they’re dead?” Cato wonders out loud, and Clove shakes her head rapidly. “No..no they can’t be dead.”

“We are thankful for your help here in Two. As you know, we have had quite the fight with the Capitol on our own. All of the villages on the north side of the mountain are destroyed, along with those on the south. All that remains on the west face is the peacekeeper barracks.” Lyme pulls up a holographic map of their home, complete with smoke billowing from the ashes of bodies and livelihoods. “We are what remains. The city to the east.”

“This is all that's left?” Clove looks to Cato, expression dropping as the reality of it all settles on her shoulders. “All the villages, the mines..”

“There's no way, that's most of the district” Cato denies but he finds himself glancing past the table, to the rising smoke on the side of the mountain.

“Cato, your parents live on the south face…” She narrows her eyes at the diagram, wondering if the small town at the base of the mountain had been spared in any way. “What about Cora and your mom and your dad and-” She makes no mention of her relatives, of her grandma in the south or her father and his new family to the north. They may as well have died to her years ago, God knows neither would stand beside her now.

They’re discussing the fate of family and villages, zoned out when they hear the absolutely insufferable voice of Gale Hawthorne, along with Beetee and Boggs offering some sort of plan to take the military stronghold inside the mountain. It would have been the hardest part, Clove or Cato could have told you that. If you didn’t win the games, that was the place to work.

Clove doesn’t pay him much mind, not that Gale ever says anything worth listening to, when she hears the word Avalanches.

“...Trap the Enemy inside..”

“...You risk suffocating everyone inside...”

“..Not if we blow it up..”

A refute from Katniss followed by “Killing isn’t personal”

The reality of the words falls heavily on the crowd, and the majority look to Lyme, their voice of reason and balance from two.

“They should have the chance to surrender.”

“You’ll kill everyone.” Clove asks, though it is more of an accusation than a question. “Just like that. Those are people in there, those are our people.” She glares something akin to the daggers she throws at Lyme, before she whips her head towards Gale. “You didn’t come here trying to spare numbers at all, did you.”

“No. I don’t care if a single one of you survives, frankly. Your people? Your people are the ones who burned my district to the ground.” Gale recalls, giving Clove and Cato a look that can only be described as disgust. “Every single person in Two is guilty as far as I’m concerned. Peacekeepers to Janitors, you’re all the same, in Snow’s pocket. You two can crawl in the mine too, we don’t need people like you in this war, either.”

If you ask Cato or Clove who move first, neither will know. It’s instinct, to flow in the same direction as one another, to feed off of the other like two heads on the same snake. All they know is that they went for the same target.

Cato reaches his first, his arm around his neck in half a second, hands on either side of his head poised to twist and dislocate it at any given moment. Clove’s got a knife, from god knows where, how she managed to sneak it on this mission no one knows, pressed to his abdomen.

“Go ahead. Say it again.” Cato urges, a sick laugh escaping him as he sees the guns trained on them. “You wanted an excuse to kill us anyway, do it. What's one more kill Gale, what did you say a few minutes ago? It isn’t personal, why don’t we remind you just how fucking personal it can be!”

“Let him go.” Katniss pleads, taking the step forward to put herself between the action and the guns aimed at them. “Let him go, they’re going to let people surrender.” She turns, now, to face Lyme, Boggs, and the others incharge of the operation. “You let people go. You let them surrender. We are not killing an entire district.. We aren’t Snow. We aren’t the Capitol.”

It is Beetee who, rolling forward with his hands up in cautious surrender. “We will leave the train tunnel open. Now. Let Mr. Hawthorne go..”

“No. He doesn’t deserve it. What did he say? Bring on the avalanches? Wanna know what it’s like to suffocate, Gale?” Clove sneers, tracing the blade of the knife over the plane of his cheek. If the way he was coughing was any indication, Cato was already making that a reality, with the way his upper arm twitched.

“We’re letting your people have a chance. Let him go, Cato. Clove.” Haymitch urges, his wide as his hands also come up to mirror Beetees. Something about that man, they feel the urge to trust. He nods to them, and Cato and Clove lock eyes. They let him go, and there's a chance they’ll be shot. They kill him, and they definitely will be. She gives a nod of her chin, one only Cato would pick up on, and they let him go.

As Gale falls to the ground, gasping for air, Cato and Clove are both grabbed by the arms and dragged from the room.

Clove does not give them the satisfaction of crying out.

And so here they sit.

Sit by side, on the marble staircase of what was once the entrance to the Justice Building. Sure, they are somewhat exposed. At this point..who’s wasting a bomb on them?

They watch, in mutual horror, as District 13 bomb after bomb absolutely annihilates the main mountain in the city. Clove swallows back the nausea she feels at the distant screams of fear, that are all suddenly cut off as the avalanche of the bomb cuts off their air.

Her head finds his shoulder, and it is the gentle rocking she feels that lets her know he is silently, wordlessly crying, too.

“Everyones dead, aren’t they?” Clove gets out, and the minute the word dead slips out her resolve crashes. “We have nothing to come home to, do we?”

“We aren’t even going to have a home to come back to, Clove.” From where they sit, they can see the remnants of what was once their home. The great training academy that was not only the foundation of their training, but the foundation of them was nothing more than its own marble steps and endless rocks.

“Do you think they killed everyone in there?” Clove gestures to their once home, which still seems to smoke.

“Probably.” Cato admits, resting his head on top of hers as yet another round of attacks aim at the mountain.

There was once a time in her life when Clove had slept best under a rainstorm in a room, hitting the windows above her bed. Now, as the bombs explode like thunder, Clove is sure she’ll never sleep through one again. Every strike of lighting will bring her back here. Watching her entire life burn to the ground.

“Enobaria…Brutus..Cora…your mom..dad…they’re probably gone, huh?” Clove says the silent fear out loud. They are all they have left.

He doesn’t verbally respond, instead reaching out and resting his arm over his shoulder, squeezing gently, careful not to hurt her.

“We were announced as victors. Right here. On these steps.” Clove points out, gently running her hands on the marble beneath her. “We got married here. All the pictures and the speeches.. And now we’re just..losing everything. Right here. On these same steps.” She strums her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “Well. Not quite everything.”

They’re interrupted by soft steps behind them, and a gentle clearing of the throat.

“Hi, Katniss.” Cato sighs, turning to phase the symbol of freedom herself.

“I’m sorry. About your District.” Katniss tries, sitting on the marble steps besides them both. “I know it isn’t easy.”

“Thank you for keeping us alive back there. It’s no secret they want us dead.” Cato clears his throat looking out at the smoking remnants of his home. “We owe you for that.”

“We’re miners, too. In Twelve. You don’t… you don’t subject other miners to that kind of death. I’m sorry for what we did.”

“Thank you.” Clove finally agrees, for the first time actually acknowledging the good in Miss Katniss. “For saying that. And your friend, Katniss–” “I know, you don’t have to apologize, he was wrong–”

“I wasn’t going to apologize. He’s dangerous, Katniss. The way he thinks..he’s not that different from Snow.” Clove warns, when a voice calls out for Katniss to return. “Better fly back to the nest, Miss Mockingjay.”

“It’s for the surrender. They want you two there.” Katniss explains, giving them a pitiful glance. “I know. But they think it looks better to show you two are on our side.”

They do not fight, remembering the words and cautious glances of Haymitch Abernathy back in two.

When they are led to the mouth of the train, with Katniss ahead of them and cameras trained on her, Clove feels a pit in the depths of her stomach.

“Let us up there.” Clove half whispers half yells to Katniss. “We can help, more than you can. These are our people. Let us talk to them.”

Haymitch, who is to Katniss' left, gives a nod of approval. “Remember, you’re talking to everyone here.”

The camera woman, Cressida gives Katniss a hesitant nod, As Cato and Clove come to flank her sides.

Her mouth is dry as the train car opens, and people pile out with heavy district thirteen weapons aimed in their faces.

“They’re hurt…” Katniss whispers, and before she can rush forward Cato grabs her by the arm and holds her back.

“They’re angry, Katniss.” He warns, just as the lights of the cameras find their faces. Cato has never been the one with the words to persuade. He is a rallyer. The great golden boy of District Two, to talk about the glory of the games and winning. He can bring everyone to their feet in a cheer…but a call to surrender? That was never going to be Cato Hadley.

Clove, on the other hand. A girl who had spent her whole life justifying her strength, that girl, she was a manipulator.

“Do you remember us?” Clove starts, as Cressida gives her an approving nod. The light is blinding in the dark of the train tunnel, but she continues to focus in on the camera. “You have to. We’re the pride of this district, aren’t we, Cato and I? That's what you called us, anyway. Cato and Clove..the best victors this district had in a decade.” Haymitch steps out of the frame, so that it instead focuses on Cato, Clove, and Katniss. Twelve and Two, standing united.

“We’re the best.” Cato chimes in, giving a sure nod and that signature cocky grin. “We still are…but that didn’t matter to Snow, and to the Capitol.”

“We..are the best. We are the most loyal. We are perfect victors and it didn’t matter.” Clove continues, and for some reason she feels like she is talking to more than just the people of her home, now, with the way the Camera is focused in on her face. She is hesitant when she reaches for the buttons on the front of her District Thirteen jumpsuit. “I was perfect, and it didn’t protect me.” She pulls the neck of the jumpsuit down, revealing the continuous bruising along her collarbones that refuses to heal. “They beat me and they broke my ribs and my arms and they destroyed my body. They do not care about us. They don’t care about the victors, and they don’t care about any of you, either.”

“They’d kill us all, if they have to.” Cato agrees, giving a solid nod of her head. “They did this to her, because they thought I was involved in this war. And now we are. And we know this much. No victor, or family member, or district matters to them. We’re all expendable. And we aren’t willing to die for them, anymore. We offered to, once. We were willing to die for glory in the games..but we aren’t willing to die for them anymore.”

Clove redirects her attention directly to the crowd. She can see faces now, people she recognizes. People she knows.

The boy who Cato beat to go to the games, who had become a peacekeeper.

The Woman who worked with her grandmother, and came by every Tuesday to carpool with her.

One of their peers a few years younger than them, who never even made it to the top of their classes.

“None of us matter to Snow. Stop killing for him.” Katniss calls out, stepping forward from between them so she is more directly in the spotlight. “You hear them! They’re the best of what Two has to offer, right? We’re the same..more than you realize. District Twelve, and District Two.”

Cato pulls Clove back, out of the light, as soon as Katniss starts her speech.

In the same second a man steps forward and pulls the trigger of a gun directly into the chest of Katniss Everdeen.

What happened next is a blur.

Next thing they know, they are on a plane back to Thirteen, Katniss Everdeen fighting for her life at their side.

They, too, are sedated before they can ask too many questions.

–

“She’s alive, you know.” Clove kicks her feet off the side of the industrial metal kitchen counter, swinging her feet all to like a child waiting for a treat. “Cato went to see her earlier. She’s alive.”

“I didn’t ask, Clove.” Peeta Mellark chimes in, brows furrowing as he works a spatula to blend the teal and white icing, creating the illusion of wave caps cresting on an ocean. “What are you even doing here?”

“You care, loverboy.” She swipes her finger in the bowl, stealing the remnants of turquoise dye and buttercream frosting. “I’m here because I haven’t seen you at all since we were rescued, and we’re now trauma bonded and all that, or whatever it is they tell Johanna in therapy.”

“I’m not loverboy, and I don’t care. She’s a monster.” He gently taps her hand with the bag of icing, but he does give her half of a smile, far less than the sunshine boy of the past but still something. “Stop sticking your fingers in there!”

“You’ll always be loverboy to us!” She taunts, but hops off the countertop anyway. “Yeah? People call me and Cato monsters too. Even monsters deserve love, Breadboy.” Clove gives the cake a once over, with an appreciative nod. “Are you going to come to the wedding?”

He gives a quick shake of the head. “I’m not cleared for that.”

–

It felt wrong, being at a wedding so close to the bombing and destruction of their home.

Still, Finnick and Annie were their friends. Even so..it wasn’t like they were likely to be invited to any other weddings in their lives.

Cato and Clove sit side by side in the very back, Clove fanning herself with the flimsy paper program that had been designed to look like the waves meeting the shore.

“This wedding is very…District Four.” Clove whispers to Cato, nodding her head towards the golden nets that are draped over the two of them. Finnick had likely made it by hand, considering tying knots had been his hobby and outlet in their long stay in thirteen. “Where did they find a bunch of kids who knew the wedding songs of that district?”

“They’re from twelve, I think.” Cato whispers back, draping his arm over her shoulder and pulling her closer, not entirely not so he could also get some of the air she was generating by fanning herself. “Annie organized the rehearsals.”

“Is that Effie Trinket?” Clove gestures towards the front, where the escort has somehow donned a large wig and a shimmering pink dress. “Why the fuck does she look so ridiculous?” “I think Katniss brought dresses back from twelve or something, that's where Annie’s is from.” Cato points out the ocean green dress the bride wears, so unlike the traditional white of the Capitol and upper districts. “Maybe that's it?”

“Will you two stop talking?” A teasing voice comes from directly in front of them, as Marvel turns around to face them. “It’s a wedding not a social hour.”

“You’re just jealous because Katniss didn’t get you a pretty dress.” Cato mocks, but does shush for the rest of the ceremony.

It really is lovely, all things considered, working with what they have in Thirteen.

The reception is as close to a party as possible down here under the ground, especially considering the prohibition.

“Does it feel wrong to anyone else, that we’re having a party as the world is ending.” Marvel asks, leaning against the wall with the other victors. Cato holds Clove in front of him, with Johanna Mason on the side opposite of Marvel.

“May as well go out with a bang.” Johanna shrugs, opening her arms with a dramatic laugh as Katniss cautiously approaches them. “Speaking of going out with a bang, there she is, a shooting survivor. You’re like a cockroach, they really just cannot kill you!”

“And considering every single one of you have tried...” Katniss nearly teases, coming to rest her back on the wall alongside Johanna.

“I'm happy for them.” Katniss announces, giving a little nod. “They deserve it.”

“Jealous?” Clove taunts, but nudges her gently with her foot. “Loverboy is going to come around. They can’t break us all forever!”

“Why didn’t you bring me a pretty dress?” Johanna teases, gesturing towards Annie and Effie. “Maybe I wanted to be a pretty pretty princess.”

“Glimmer got the one you liked anyway. The blue one I wore in two?” Katniss points out, and as if on cue, the back doors open and in slips the girl of the hour.

“God damn.” Johanna whispers, when the blonde girl enters in all her glory. The blue velvet falls to her feel like a river, those gorgeous bombshell curls framing her face and rolling down her shoulders like the star she is. At about her knees the dress turns from velvet to sapphire colored glitter, that catches the light as she walks heel before heel, all eyes in the room unable to look anywhere but her. There isn’t much makeup or jewelry here, but she’s never needed it. She shines regardless. “The capitol sure did some fucked up things to her but if they did anything right, it sure is market how gorgeous she is.”

Noone pays any attention to Marvel, who’s tightened his jaw beside Cato and Clove, his entire body language stiffened at the attention of glimmer.

She reaches them very quickly, and the joy on her face is contagious. “Thank you so much, Katniss, for letting me borrow this. The alterations aren’t permanent, I just pinned it!”

“It looks like it was made for you,” Katniss admits when she catches her sister’s shining eyes from across the room. She would go to her soon, but for now she would play nice with her fellow victors.

“I didn’t really want to come.” Glimmer admits tucking herself in beside Cato and Johanna, opposite and far from Marvel. “It’s hard to see these things knowing you’ll never do them but.. Finnick and I have been through a lot together. I’m happy to see him so happy. He deserves it. One of us should have it!”

“Come on, Miss Panem, let's try some of that cake. You could use it.” Johanna playfully raises her eyebrows, before linking her arm through Glimmer’s and practically leading her away. Clove notices the pins on the back of the dress, holding the fabric close to her skin. She must be terribly small, for a dress that was designed for Katniss not to fit her.

“She’s a fucking beauty queen.” Clove agrees, unable to wipe the smile off her face at the way she simply glows in the expensive fabric.

“Yeah…she is.” Marvel clears his throat, and pushes himself off the wall. “I need to–”

Clove leans into Cato’s arms as she watches Marvel walk off after Glimmer, Cato pulling her attention before she can watch him reach her.

“See, Katniss? We’re all starting to heal. Peeta will be soon.” Clove promises, noting the longing look the Mockingjay tries to hide.

Katniss nods, but changes the subject abruptly before she could dare show emotion. “I’m going to see my little sister, I think.”

Cato shuffles, twisting Clove in his arms to face him.

“What do you say, we go to intercept that cake before Johanna and Marvel have to fight over Glimmer.” He teases, and gently nudges her in the direction of Peeta’s great confection.

Clove wordlessly agrees, walking hand in hand with her husband over to the sliced cake displayed on the table. Most of the guests are busy dancing to some folk-esk music, save for Annie and Finnick who had already had their first slice, and so it was Cato and Clove home free with the cake.

They stand in the corner, one plate and two forks between them, laughing as Cato nearly misses Clove’s mouth as he tries to feed her a bite of the cake.

“You usually have better aim than that.” Clove taunts, swiping a bit of the turquoise frosting on his nose.

“I could say the same for you.” He catches her wrist in his free hand, and instead licks the icing right off her pointer finger. “You know I would have gone for chocolate cake, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Cato grabs her by the face and pulls her in for a kiss, the grainy taste of buttercream lingering on their lips.

“You know, Clove, I would have thought you and I would have done this when we got home. The whole big party..”

“You’re the one who said it, Cato. There won’t be a home for us to go back to.”

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #clato #cato and clove #clato fanfic #clove kentwell #clove #cato hadley #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg #johanna mason #glimmer and marvel #peeeta apears #katniss appears #etc etc #love y'all

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tbhimnoteasyonmyself · 2 months

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DFF & the Contemporary Issue of Trends

Last time I came onto this tag I was grasping at the last droplet of hope I had for the ending to be good.

I decided to tell you all about the great seen of Tee's confrontation with Non's dead body.

Before that I tried to guess who White might be in the story and what was happening with Phee and how and why Tan was New.

And along the way I made polls and memes and I joined this fandom in appreciating what seemed to be another great story by BOC.

We've all dedicated so much time and care and love and talent and skill to contribute to this community, to make something great around something we were growing to love...

But now we're all left neck deep in the mud, as another series with great potential bites the dust in a terrible manner.

And I'm here as the ominous oracle of the death and peril yet to come, in good Greek Tragedy fashion, to tell you this was not the 1st time we've witnessed this and it shall not be the last. And all bc contemporary media have taken 1 thing to their heart and 1 thing only: engagement.

So let's take a step back.

What fuels people? What sticks with them?

How many times a day do you remember you love your loved ones in a week? Perhaps not many. But how many times do you remember the guy the big car crash you witnessed on your way home the week it happened? A lot, probably.

Why? Bc it's new, it's shocking and it probably fuels you with either fear or frustration.

The same can be said about contemporary trends. They're new, shocking and probably fuel a negative emotion in you. So they get talked about A LOT. All at once.

This is the reason why media is becoming what it is. It's realized all st once, tried to rush through plots and plots to be relevant all the while. Makes twists and twists and twists. And has something controversial to it. Bc this will make people talk. And talk will get more people to consume.

Until of course, the next more appalling thing happens and everyone moves on.

God, this is even true in the news. I mean... How many times do you hear about good projects? Or art? But hoe many times do you hear about murder?? No wonder we're growing desensitized to it. It's all we hear about all the time!!

DFF is just another case. Another series in a sea of them that tried to be shocking and play with expectations to keep people talking.

My question is, however: and now what? Now what?

Sure, we're all talking about it cause we're shocked and pissed. But adter the emotions settle and the curiosity to find out the fuck went wrong dies out, what happens?

Don't get me wrong, I love this fandom but the series itself? It'll mostly fade away. It's not something I want to create anything for anymore. I don't have care for it any longer bc why would I??? If no one bothered to mind writing something that even made sense, why should I care to love it??

And I feel like I'm not the only one!

This fandom will die. Like many other have. And what will the creators have achieved?

I never thought about The Untamed with too much fervor, for example. And most of us have not. But if I go into its tag here or on AO3, there's still stuff being made for it. And everyone once in a while, I'll think about it and I'll coke back to it and I'll cherish and nurture it for what it is. And the fandom's there. And sure rn I haven't interacted with that fandom in a bit. And I've been on DFF's tag nearly every day. But in a year, maybe even just a few months, I'll still be thinking and coming back to Xue Yang and Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing... I won't be coming back to this mess, though. And in the end, it might not matter to anyone, but it matters to artists, doesn't it?

We make things because we are humans and we wish to connect with others. We wanna live forever in the things we live behind. But a story can't be told if there's no one to tell it to. You can't live forever in a void where no one awaits you.

So, in the end, we have consumed DFF, they have their money. But it will die and be buried together with all the people who have buzzed me while I was crossing the street or didn't held a door for me or were annoying to me on the bus. While other series, nourished with more love, will be there with me and many others, accumulating all the times we thought about them through the years, alive and well.

#it's like watching a child I raised falling into a drug addiction man #=/#dff the series #dead friend forever #dff #dead friend forever the series

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verladyweek · 5 months

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FAQ & General Information

Who can participate in Verlady Week?

Everyone can! You do not need to pass some sort of Verlady shipping proficiency test and it does not matter whether you have been interested in them for years or have just recently discovered them: if you think this event looks interesting and you’d like to be a part of it in some way or another, you are more than welcome to join in on the fun!

What kind of contributions are allowed?

Everything is allowed! Fanart, fanfic, moodboards, memes, shitposts, playlists, headcanons, wips and snippets, poetry, image manipulations and collages, posing your tsums or action figures and taking a picture - there is literally no limit and no restrictions! If you have a fun idea for any of the prompts, go ahead and do it!

What are the minimum requirements for a contribution?

To have fun! Aside from that, absolutely none. There are no minimum word counts or language restrictions and a stick figure drawing will be just as cherished, celebrated and loved by this blog as a fully rendered artwork. All of you are amazing and cool and deserving of some spotlight! We are here to share our love for Vergil and Lady and no matter how much or little you wish to contribute, you are welcome to join in and celebrate with us.

Are there any content restrictions?

No. This event is and forever will remain open to all flavours of Verlady: the good, the bad, the dirty, so to speak. You are allowed to share the most tooth-rotting and wholesome fluff as well as the raunchiest, most depraved PWP you can think of. Dark themes as well as Dead Dove content are allowed. The one single rule every contributor will have to follow through meticulously is to. Tag. Your. Stuff. Thoroughly.

I feel uncomfortable when I see [content] on my dashboard…

And you are so valid! This is why it is so important for everyone to tag their contributions properly - so that you can practice self-care and filter it out! We want to share our love for Verlady together, and we also want to respect each other’s boundaries. When sharing and reblogging contributions, this blog will follow a strict convention of “content warning: [content]” in the tags and you are, at every single point in time, allowed and encouraged to reach out and send a message requesting any content you’d like to be added to the tag list. (Anon asks are always enabled, and you will not need to justify why you would like a certain tag to be added.) The default warnings like “content warning: dub-con” etc. are already part of the tag list, but if you have any more obscure triggers that others might not even consider potentially upsetting, please do not hesitate to request additional content descriptor tags for your convenience!

Why are there so many prompts per day?

Because sometimes one prompt sparks joy but another prompt doesn’t - the prompt list is designed to give you some variety and you can fill as many prompts as you want and as little as you like! Feel free to stick to one prompt only, or to throw everything together into one prompt fill.

Can I combine prompts from multiple days into one fill?

Knock yourself out my friend! The prompts are meant to inspire and if you feel inspired, then they have fulfilled their purpose.

Can I submit my own already published work as contribution?

Yes and no. Fanworks already published that just so happen to coincide with one of the prompts are, of course, allowed to be reblogged by yourself if you feel like you have already created the perfect fit to one of the prompts, however, this blog will only reblog and share content created specifically for this event! That can be something entirely new, made completely from scratch. That can also be a continuation to the thing you have already made and want to expand upon (i.e. a new chapter of a fanfic/new entry to a series, the continuation of a comic, a new fanart to accompany another you have previously made, etc.)

Do I have to participate each day?

No! You participate as much as you want and as little as you like! We all have obligations IRL and sometimes they get in the way of fun things like Verlady Week. You are more than welcome to try and participate each day, but you are just as welcome to only participate on one single day, and just as welcome to not participate at all and just sit back and enjoy and share the things other people want to contribute to the event.

Do I have to be a creator to participate?

No! There will be prompts geared towards people who do not feel confident sharing something they have created. You can still spread the love if you want to!

I really want to do something for a prompt but I think I might not make it in time for the event week.

I feel you! Worry not, friend, for late entries will still be accepted and shared and showered in love. Best case scenario, this event will become a recurring annual thing and I will see your new entry to the event even if you stumble across the prompt list for 2024 in 2025 and still felt inspired to create and share - but at the very, very least I will guarantee you that the event tag (#verladyweek) will be monitored up until December 31st. If you want to be extra sure your late contribution is seen, please feel free to tag @verladyweek in your post.

Where can I share my contributions?

Verlady Week is on Tumblr and AO3. Be sure to tag #verladyweek and feel free to ping @verladyweek to make sure your contribution will be seen and shared by the event account. (There might eventually be an active Twitter account as well, but you will be informed ahead of time if it comes to that. For now, don't bet on it.)

I have a question that was not answered in this post.

Please feel free to reach out and submit an ask, you are never a bother!

-- Mod Sonder

#faq #general information #verlady #vergil x lady #verladyweek #dmc vergil #dmc lady

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cypressmoons · 1 year

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cross your mind [al haitham]

♫ listening to: cross your mind by role model

🕮 summary: do you think about me, do you fantasize? you're so cool around me, do i even cross your mind? modern au, lots of horrible jokes (i'm giving cyno a run for his money)

✎ word count: 1.3k

“do you want to be in the video?”

“what?”

you repeat his question back at him, blinking innocently.

he forces a laugh, the air suddenly feeling a little more frigid.

finally your anxiety gets the best of you and you launch into yet another nervous ramble, “i mean, only if you’re comfortable- i just thought it would look good for the PR, that’s all- i wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do!”

he laughs genuinely now, and your face feels hot. you pinch the inside of your palm in a desperate attempt to calm the nerves, reminding yourself that this is just like asking any other person, he’s not anything special, and you most definitely shouldn’t be making a big deal out of this.

but he is.

you’ve secretly admired him for over a year now. in the summer months when you didn’t see him, you somehow even managed to forget he existed save for the occasional “oh there was this guy in my class” moment. but now that you’re seeing him multiple times a week and even having to — gasp — private message him, you’re not sure how much longer your internal organs can handle all the twisting and turning.

your friends might be sick and tired of your nonstop simping for a man you're too chicken to actually go talk to, but somehow that's the thrill of it for you: chasing after the one person you can't have, knowing that you'd probably never be cool enough to even hang around him.

sometimes you even question if you're in love with him, but the thought is quickly dismissed when you attribute it to pure physical attraction - a very strong and endless one at that.

and you almost drop all the heavy groceries you were carrying when you run into him walking with another girl one day.

the skies are a dim shade of grey-blue as the sun sets behind the clouds and beneath the horizon, headlights from the cars beside you growing brighter in contrast. another frigid gust of wind makes you shiver and you retreat your hands further into your sleeves, cursing at the heavy bags you're carrying for preventing you from warming your hands in your pockets, at the slippery ice and slush that were yet to be cleared from the sidewalks, at the winter winds that seem to cut straight into your bones, and at yourself for being too scared to go inside the restaurant to order takeout for dinner.

now you're cold, tired, the bags too heavy on your back and in your hands, and stomach protesting from the lack of your comfort food. sure, you could probably whip something up from the groceries you just bought, but on some days you just simply don't feel like it - especially on cold and gloomy days like these.

you're just not having a good day.

little did you know, your day is about to get a whole lot worse.

your apartment building looms closer and you feel the impending relief of finally being able to set these bags down. when you turn onto your street, however, you stop dead in your tracks as you see, without mistake, al haitham with another girl, engaged in animated conversation.

and walking towards you.

his expression freezes the moment he sees you, leaving the poor girl puzzled at his sudden pause in movement. her eyes dart from his face to where his gaze lands, until the three of you are gawking at each other like that one spider man meme.

fortunately, the gawking doesn't last long. armed with a new sense of spite-induced confidence, you hike your backpack up a little higher and decide to continue your journey on the other side of the sidewalk instead, purposefully ignoring him.

you did briefly consider a quick, nonchalant greeting - after all, that's what acquaintances do with each other, right? but looking at him, probably saying more words to the girl next to him in the last few minutes than he’s ever spoken to you in the two years you’ve known him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to even offer him that nicety.

so you take long strides away from them, never once looking back until you’re finally warm and toasty inside your apartment’s lobby. you’d like to think that he watched you leave, that he’d paused his conversation for you, but caught in a moment of jealousy, you suddenly don’t care if he did.

because you’re never gonna be like her, anyway.

being what you are, though - is it ever going to be enough? heart rate spiking a little whenever a red notification dot appears on your phone, only for you to sigh in relief when your friend’s name appears instead. cursing at him for taking years to respond to you while you secretly hoped he reciprocated your one-sided crush. your thoughts don’t have a flood gate, unfortunately, and when your very being is consumed by him at all times of day - putting your first name with his last name included - you just can’t get him out.

you’re growing increasingly frustrated at how much he consumed your time and energy. despite repeated attempts to convince yourself that he’ll do nothing but break your heart later, your mind still wanders to him, your stomach still gets butterflies, and at this point you just want to scrub every crevice in your brain like one of those scrub daddy-sponsored cleaning videos.

if you really think about it, he's nowhere near being the kate sharma to your anthony bridgerton, so why is he the bane of your existence and object of all your desires?

yet you can't forget about the way he smiled when you talked to him, how he literally looks like the grinning emoji. you tell yourself he looks at everyone like that, but part of you hopes that maybe the grinning emoji face is reserved just for you.

which is false, apparently.

you should've known better. even with all your thoughts running wild like an unmoderated twitch chat, containing every situation possible like a tumblr dash with mature content enabled and complete with filters and background music from the "romantic songs to make up scenarios in your head to" video that youtube strangely decided to recommend you one day, you should've known he is just a fantasy to you. maybe you've made him out to be a saint, to be better than he actually would have been in real life, but the hopeless romantic in you so desperately wants it to be true, even just one tiny part of it.

you delete the exclamation mark from the end of the sentence, feeling guilt tinging your body as you press send before promptly closing the chat window. the habit of adding exclamation marks and smiley faces as to not appear mean no longer has any place in this conversation.

if you want to forget about him, move on from him, you need to begin by telling yourself that it's not worth compromising your future over a man you can't have.

and that's not only because he acts so cool around you. if you ever crossed his mind, he surely doesn't show it.

because come on- surely it doesn't take a normal person three full days to agree on a time for a strictly professional, no-personal-feelings-attached, most definitely normal work meeting, right?

this is only for my job. i would've done the same for any other person.

you repeat the statement to yourself like a mantra, so many times that you start to fear that you would summon his spirit or something. you try to imagine any other person in his shoes. yes - this video is purely for the sake of advertisement, engagement and PR, and absolutely nothing else.

so why is it you offered to get coffee for the both of you?

i hope you enjoyed the subtle bane of my existence fic reference hehehehe i'm very proud of that one - if you haven't read that yet then you should >:(

requests open | masterlist

#screaming crying throwing up #moon's writings #al haitham #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #moon's writings 🔖

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snarkylinda · 1 year

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I should be studying, showering, sleeping, doing literally anything else but instead, I am going to do a long post about a mentally ill blorbo because I am mentally ill myself.

SO! We all make fun of Spencer let me take my vest off and lower my gun for no reason Reid, it's a meme at this point- but that....tendency is a consequence of what I find the most fascinating about his character as a whole....his relationships- or more like, the relationships he makes up in his head.

Before I go into details I want to leave something very clear that anyone that has seen even one season of the funny cop show has noticed: Spencer is highly obsessive.

Now I am not talking about his fun little facts or that he likes star streak and doctor who obsession- those are hyperfixations, and even tho MY hyperfixation it's ruining my life, his are actually harmless and overall make him happy.

His obsessive nature had almost cost him his career, if not his life, multiple times.

If you stop to think about it in depth, why does Reid abandon all common sense when it comes to certain UnSubs, certain cases? well the most evident answer is that he projects whatever trauma of the week they decide to explore onto them- and yes, that is the nick of things. He pulled that stunt on Elephant's memory because he related to Owen's harassment story, he wanted to help Nathan because he understood being afraid of your own mind turning against you, he wanted to help Adam because he couldn't save Tobias. You get the drill- but....that is not always the case.

With the guy that Lindsey's dad murdered- Spencer didn't relate to him, he was just a piece of shit. How about Samantha? (I know there is a theory about William....doing shit to Reid when he was younger and while I can see it, for the sake of argument I will take her case into consideration) The father of the victim on "Identity"? I can name another example but this one I am going to save for last since it's the reason for me making this post-

And one can argue "Well, he is just a really nice guy" and while that is true- what I named before doesn't always apply, Spencer's compassion has a very clear, marked limit.

His relationships.

When Cyrus was killed in front of him by Morgan, Reid barely blinked- hell, he fucking SASSED him. Why? because he hurt Emily.

All sympathy he could have had for Cat before she ruined his life DESPITE kind of empathizing with her story based on what HE was going through went out of the window because she and her lil gang terrorized Penelope for months.

He felt compassion for Adam, but not for his father who he claimed was the true monster of this story in the aftermath.

When Maeve told her her ex was dead, he quickly brushed that aside to ask her if SHE was alright.

And ofc, we all know what happened in prison after his friend there was murdered.

Reid is often associated with UnSubs not only because of how his backstory aligned with their motivations (mental health issues, bullying, absent parent, losing a loved one) but because most of these crimes are passional responses- and Spencer can be extremely passional, to a point where it clouds his judgment.

Now...you might be thinking "ok that is all nice and good, but where does the obsession come into play? all that I know is that he is a cinnamon roll that loves his friends and has some really deep projection issues he really needs to work on" and you are not wrong, but what made me make this fucking thesis in the first place its something else....one of my favorite things to analyze about fictional characters in this kind of setting it's "the needs of one vs the greater good" thing.

Now let's be fr, we all as human beings will always, ALWAYS prioritize those close to us over literal strangers. Even among the best, most empathic people that is just how it is, that emotional hierarchy will always be there- what differentiates us is how much it affects our actions.

Now with a job like this, there will always be this conflict among the menbers- obviously, their families and even each other will always be a priority, but on working hours their focus HAS to be on doing their job, following the rules and just being as professional as humanly possible- even tho it sometimes kills them inside since it just doesn't feels right.

Reid actually doesn't face this debate that much- because all common sense, respect for authority and protocol goes out of the fucking window whenever he obsesses over a new blorbo lmao.

Had you heard the phrase "One death is a tragedy, a hundred is a statistic"? nothing rings more true that with Dr. Reid right here. He is able to keep his cool while touching mangled corpses and discussing all the shit that happened to them- occasionally looking horrified if it's messed up enough, but other than that he is able to keep the same level of professionalism and compartmentalization as his co-workers.

Annnnnnd then he gets to know a victim, a witness, or an unsub and the vest leaves his torso, his gun folds itself and his IQ lowers. Alot.

Let's get back to the example I put of the guy that was murdered by Lindsey's dad- in that moment he wasn't a murderer to Reid, in that moment all he saw was a teenager begging for his life and HE could be the only to save him- he couldn't. He obsessed over that instead of what the guy did and that lead him to desire to insert Diluid inside of him after 10 months of sobriety, not to mention being A BIG factor in what he does on Elephant's Memory.

"I thought I could save this one" was his response when Hotch scolded him.

Spencer literally can't forget shit. So he tries to make sure that when he knows someone, even if is on a dying moment like the mentioned UnSub, he can save them. He forms some kind of bond with someone and they stop being an face and a name adhered to his board that he is determined to save/get justice for because is his literal job and he is overall a good person. In his mind, it becomes his responsibility whenever that person it's saved, and when that crosses over obsessive territory and his job, that makes it mandatory to always put the need of the many vs the one (especially if it's an unsub) well....

It's when he spiral and puts his career/the case in jeopardy at best, and his life at worst, no to mention what that shit does to his already questionable mental health.

In the second ep of the tenth season, Reid confesses to Morgan that after killing the LDSK, it suddenly hit him and he obsessed over all the "what ifs", at that moment that guy wasn't the LDSK that almost got him, his boss and a hospital full of mortal hostages in danger- he was the man that Spencer Reid killed- and it only ended when he stopped obsessed over HIM and started to put his victim's faces on his wall, forcing his focus on them instead.

He was more focused on the father of the victim on "identity" than the actual unsub himself because years before he had stopped him from seeing his daughter, and had made enough of an impact to be remembered by him in the present. Thanks to that bond, that little relationship, Spencer was able to put himself between a highly emotional distraught father's gun and the man he wanted to kill, to protect him.

He didn't get to personally know Samantha until the end- but he got to meet the scumbag that raped her. Add that to the already soft spot he has for children and you have a very angry Reid ready to do literally anything to make sure this woman that didn't even knew him was safe.

And ironically enough, what prompt me to do this thesis wasn't even one of those nice touchy feeling moments Spencer had with someone he bonded over- either personally or on a parasocial level- but one where he was wrong, but was about to risk a whole case over it. Rock Creek Park.

In that episode, Spencer and this other girl are keeping watch over this mafia thing so this politician guy's wife cane come back (as you can see I pay attention to certain scenes more that others lmao) and you can see the exact moment where the mission....stops being Spencer's priority.

After hearing this girl's conversation with her mother, she stopped being "the maid" and became someone Spencer's "knows" and so this leads to....this

....why did I bother with that text block when this scene spills it out- Anyways.

I dunno why but Rossi's reaction always sends me to the stratosphere- he knows.

Anyways, turns out that the helpless maid was actually on it all along and Reid almost throws the entire case off over nothing- *slows clap*

Ok ok, this might seem like I am slandering my boy but as fun as it is to make fun of him, this is exactly why I love him. This recklessness as a result of tunnel vision it's....concerning considering his line of work, and his eagerness to go far and beyond for someone he barely knows just because he knows them, above everything else and he is there, and can't bare the thought of not doing anything for them., to have their death's imprinted on his memory.

In conclusion- he ain't lawful good/neutral like the first few episodes want to make you think, he is chaotic good. And a mess. And I love him.

#criminal minds #spencer reid

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