even the birds stop to listen

Tsukkiyama is such a soft couple ♥

♥ You’d think their relationship is full of nasty comments and snickering, but actually it’s quite the opposite.
♥ It’s full of soft kisses and touching and cuddling and quietly moaning while gently getting caressed.
♥ They talk really quietly to each other, like Yamaguchi just gets so calm that he can’t even force himself to be hyper! When he’s with friends he is kinda loud and excited but with Tsukishima it seems more like he is whispering and in a state of dreaming.
♥ Everyone on the team thinks it’s kind of adorable but on the outside of course they are more like “Oh my gosh, get a room!” or “Can you stop being like all lovey-dovey?”
♥ Also they have no problems with sharing secrets with each other. It just feels so natural to them to always voice whatever is going on in their heads.
♥ There are literally no big fights. They just can’t get into an argument or any drama, even if they really try. They are just too chill about each other.
♥ “Tsukki, I am really scared that all the girls will occupy you on Valentines Day again…” - “Don’t worry, we’ll share the chocolate afterwards!” - “That’s not what I meant!” - “Well, I could also kiss you in front of everyone so they won’t bother me at all.” - “But… We wouldn’t get any chocolate.”
♥ Yamaguchi would have never thought this, but Tsukishima can be really interested in other peoples life. Usually he holds long monologues and doesn’t really expect Tsukishima to listen, but when he stops talking he would literally get follow-up questions and he is always so confused? Like, did he really attentively listen to all this rambling?
♥ Dates for them are usually just going for a walk. They’ll walk to the park, through the shopping mall, to the next city. They won’t even talk to each other, Yamaguchi just points something out to him a few times, like a really big bird sitting on a bench or the new movie they wanted to watch. Tsukishima will just smile at him, watch the bird for a few moments, buy the DVD and then silently starts walking again, pulling his boyfriend with him.
♥ Sometimes they just sit next to each other, stare in each others faces and just start touching each other. Like ears, hair, nose, chin, shoulders. Just touching and caressing, but never losing eye contact until Tsukishima usually closes his eyes, leans forward for a kiss and hugs him for a really long time.

listen i don’t hate genji okay

he deserves so much more than his player base and fucking creators give him

like@ god please give my japanese boy some credit god damn stop plaguing him with shit ships and too many burdens

my boi deserves to get a nice house with a healer bf and take a vacation 

ramen and vidya game nights with dva, music dates with lucio, meditation days and training with zenyatta, bird watching with satya maybe

bonding with mccree over blackwatch, sympathizing with gabe because he knows how bad overwatch can be

boy has so much potential to show a new side to asian men outside of the context of Celibate Monk Man, but instead, we get this stereotypical stock character, just as we have for fucking years and the ships that get pushed to the forefront by devs is the shittiest stock ship of them all.  Right up next to it is fucking shipping him with his brother.  not only is this an insult to the character, but it’s just not compelling.

Funny How It Goes

Written by: @thestuckinbed

Prompt 26: A drabble where Peeta is from the Seam and Katniss is a Merchant but he’s still the one with the crush??? Sorry if it’s too specific ahah i just never read something quite like that ” (sent to me many moons ago via anon). [submitted by @titaniasfics]

Rated: T (for mention of underage sex and prostitution)

Author’s Note: I got a late start and this got out of hand, so it’s going to be the first part of a new wip(!). This is unbeta’d and there are verb tenses that I’m not sure how they got there. I don’t own the Hunger Games. Thanks for reading :)

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On this night, I feel a tinge of sadness remembering the period when we started getting closer.
It felt like the first time I had a real conversation with someone.

You were so non-judgmental and you had an open mind, an ear willing to listen to whatever I had to say.
I had your full, undivided attention and you had mine.
For the first time, I no longer felt invisible, no need to hold back who I was.
I felt you truly treasured me, you saw galaxies in me, despite all the imperfections I’d bared to you. I felt you had my back, staying firm on the ground whenever I wavered on the brink of collapse.
I saw a future with you, I did. I wanted to be someone you could lean on, someone to come home to and be a listening ear, just like you.


Sometime after, we stopped talking 
you hurt me and enraged and confused, I cut you off and
I still regret that even now,
You used to sneak a glance at me from across the room every so often,
My heart fluttering like a frantic bird, our eyes locked, yours turned away in embarrassment.

And like they say, as time dragged on, awkwardness prevailed
We never talked again except for the rare casual exchange of words.


A year later, you’ve found someone else who makes you happier than I ever could. I’m glad, truly, because I know of your kindness, I’ve experienced your compassion and giving generosity. We were never even together, just two acquaintances in our youth that never confessed how they felt to each other.


I miss the times we could strike up a conversation with each other effortlessly, without the fear of rejection. If I tried, it would feel as though I was meeting someone new for the first time. You’ve started a new chapter in your life.

But a year's flown by and I can say proudly that I’m not in love with you anymore. You are just one of the few special people I can’t forget, no matter what. I hope that one day I meet more people like you.

—  reminsces
For the first time, the words aren’t where I need
them to be. This is to say: my hands aren’t shaking
and your name isn’t a spinning top on my tongue.
You see, there’s this blue thread that hangs from
my wrist and I know it’s attached to the last piece
of you. So I spent the night pulling it out until the
pain became unbearable and I couldn’t see straight.
My morning was wasted cleaning the stain out of 
the carpet. But there it is, clean, finally. I know
they’re talking about rain tomorrow, and for once
I don’t think it has anything to do with us. I think 
the universe is always fighting for our collision,
but sometimes even fate gets it wrong. It might
always come down to poor timing, and maybe
four years from now my heart won’t be so restless
and you won’t be so indecisive and I’ll never have
to write another poem about birds not being able
to survive storms. But for right now, I’ve got steady
hands and when somebody has given you a million
reasons to leave, you stop listening for the reason to
—  WEATHER FORECAST, angelea l.

It’s hard to believe this run even happened given I haven’t been consistent with running for over a week, the distance, and how it was unplugged (!!!). The latter wasn’t by choice, mind you. My dogs got a hold of my headphones and chewed them up! However, in a way it was kind of a blessing cause it resulted in this beautiful run where I didn’t think, I just went with it. I listened to my body, to running water, to the chirping birds, to the wind, to my feet hitting the pavement, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I don’t know why I was so scared of this before. 

After tonight I think I ultimately run better without music, or other medias, so here’s to becoming less dependent on them! 

Also, who digs my sheep socks?  

Last fic for @craziiwolf‘s blind au. Thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged the others it means the world to me <3 And as always go and check out craziiwolf because the art is fucking awesome and creative and she has a bunch of other au’s aside from this one that are just as amazing.

Part 1 | 2 | 3

He avoided Kageyama after that.

He told himself it was only for a little while, just a little break until he could get a handle on the guilt that threatened to strangle him every time he saw Kageyama’s milky grey orbs where deep navy was supposed to be. Every time he saw him in the corridor at school, or he came to look for him in the gym after practice, Hinata would make sure he was out of his line of sight. It’s not like Kageyama would know anyway; it’s not like he could see the way Hinata’s face fell when he entered the room, or the tell-tale trembling in his hands whenever anyone mentioned that night.

And whose fault is that?

Occasionally, he cried. Sometimes, the mere sight of Kageyama was enough to set him off, but it mostly it was when he was left alone with his thoughts, nothing else there to ward off the hateful thoughts that filled his head, no strong arms to hold him and tell him everything was okay. He was so sick of it, so tired of the guilt that always seemed to lurk in the pit of his stomach, fed up with the tears, and that strange ache in his chest that wouldn’t seem to go away.

Days turned into weeks; Hinata’s grades were slipping; he couldn’t hit the ball right; he snapped at everyone; he skipped practice. He couldn’t remember that last time he’d smiled.

He couldn’t bear it anymore.

It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself.

At the earliest opportunity he grabbed Kageyama by the arm, making sure to utter a gruff, “Come with me.” before steering him off to somewhere more private. Kageyama stumbled, struggling to coordinate with Hinata’s pushing.

“Hinata is that you? What are you-”

"Just go forward, I’ll guide you.” He mumbled, concentrating on not letting Kageyama fall over so he didn’t have to think too hard about what he was about to do.

He checked to make sure that no one was around before pulling him to a stop, “You might want to sit down for this.” He suggested, guiding Kageyama to the floor before settling down next to him.

“Hinata what the hell is going on? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and now-” 

"I have to tell you something.” He interrupted, drawing his knees up to his chest and gripping them tightly, nails biting into soft skin.

Kageyama paused, “If you don’t want to look after me anymore it’s okay.” 

Hinata jerked, surprised, "What?!" 

"You were avoiding me because babying me is such a pain,” He shifted his eyes to Hinata, “Weren’t you?" 

Hinata was so shocked all he could do was stare. He couldn’t believe that he’d had been beating himself up about this, that Kageyama thought he was the one to blame when in reality it was all Hinata’s fault. Again.

"It really is okay.” Kageyama continued, but Hinata didn’t miss the way his mouth trembled around the words, “I can do most things on my own now, so if you don’t want to that’s-” 

"That’s not it.” Hinata bit back, the amount of anger in his voice surprising even himself. He chewed at his lip, looking away from Kageyama once again as he spoke, “I need to talk to you about that night.”

Kageyama sighed, “This again? You need to stop blaming yourself, it was an accident.” He reached out to encircle his arms around Hinata, but he shrank away, shuffling backwards.

“Just listen to me!” He yelled.

Kageyama stilled, hands falling limply at his sides as he gazed at Hinata with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“That night,” His voice almost broke on the first word, but he kept going, the words finally tumbling out like birds freed from a cage, “We were walking home. I challenged you to a race, and while we were running I-” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and there was a-a drop. Next thing I knew I was f-falling.”

He paused, roughly wiping his nose, so he could continue. When had he started crying? 

“I was s-so scared.” He whispered, “I thought I was going to die, but you protected me. You reached out and grabbed me, and while we were rolling down, y-your head,” he hiccoughed, “your head hit a rock and-” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “It’s all my fault, I’m sorry Kageyama, I’m so sorry.” He hid his face in his hands and tried to stifle the sobbing as he waited for Kageyama’s response. 

He expected anger, he expected yelling and shouting, and maybe even desperation, but what he didn’t expect was silence.

Kageyama said nothing. He didn’t even move. He just sat there, staring as Hinata broke down in front of him. 

Maybe he’s too disgusted to answer, maybe he’s trying to find the right way to break up with me, that sounds like something he’d do, even after hearing all that, he’ll still want to let me down gently.

Hinata sniffed heavily one last time before standing, “I’m sorry.” he said once again, before turning to walk away.

Then Kageyama grabbed his wrist.

He pulled Hinata down painfully to the floor again and wrapped his arms around him, his grip tightening. Hinata struggled to break free, fear scraping at his heart. What is he doing? Is he trying to kill me? Please Kageyama-

“It’s not your fault.”

And then it was his turn to still, his turn to fall into silence because how could he think that? After everything I told him, how can he still believe it’s an accident?

“Yes it is!” He shouted, pushing against Kageyama’s chest as he tried to escape his grip, “You know it is, just scream at me already!”

“Hinata listen to me.” Kageyama said, his voice scarily calm, “I’m not going to scream at you, I’m not going to hit you, or insult you because it’s not your fault.”

“Stop saying that!” Hinata screamed, hitting Kageyama’s chest hard.

“I may not remember what happened, by I can still say this: I jumped after you because I wanted to. Standing by and doing nothing would have ruined me, so I chose to save you…because I love you, and I couldn’t bear to watch you get hurt.”

Hinata couldn’t bring himself to meet Kageyama’s eyes, he just stared at the other boy’s chest in despair, tears blurring his vision, “Even after everything, you can still say that.”

“Yes I can,” He brought a hand under Hinata’s chin and tilted it so he met Kageyama’s eyes, “because it’s true. I’m not mad you.”

He felt himself dissolving, all fronts and false facades fading away as he trembled with tears, leaving him raw in Kageyama’s arms. It was only now that he realised just how terrified he’d been of Kageyama’s response, so scared that he would reject him that he’d refused to accept that maybe Kageyama just wanted Hinata to be there for him.

He clutched the front of Kageyama’s shirt, laying his head on his chest as he waited for the sobs to play themselves out. Kageyama held him close, stroking Hinata’s hair with a soothing rhythm and rubbing small circles into Hinata’s back.

“Hey, Kageyama.” Hinata said, his voice still a bit croaky, “What if I gave you my eyes?”

The hands froze, “What?”

“Your eyes are more important than mine, and I used to spike with my eyes closed anyway so-”


Hinata paused, the ferocity in Kageyama’s voice surprising him, “I just thought that-”

“Don’t you ever say that again.” Kageyama said, his tone dangerously quiet.

Hinata closed his eyes, “I wanted to do something for you, for a change.”

Kageyama’s hands resumed their motions, and he rested his cheek atop Hinata’s hair, “You already do enough. Promise me you’ll never think of that again.”


There was a moment of silence before Kageyama added, “And promise me you won’t ever leave again.”

Hinata wrapped his arms tightly around Kageyama’s form, breathing in the scent he’d missed so much, relaxing into those arms he’d felt lost without, burying his head into the warmth he’d been aching to feel pressed against him.

“I promise.”

Post-Montreal inspiration

I was fortunate enough to attend the Syn Studios “Gathering of Masters” in Montreal. Five days of talks, workshops, and hanging out with like-minded artists from all kinds of backgrounds. It was hugely inspiring to listen to James Gurney, Terryl Whitlach, Samantha Youssef, Raphael Lacoste, and many others. I’ve been home for two days and I can’t stop drawing.

Right now I’m frantically running around drawing everything. Eventually i’ll calm down and start focusing, but for now I’m like a humming bird with a pencil.

There are life drawings, animal drawings, anatomy studies, and even some airplanes (picking a subject I have little to no interest in and trying to lean into it).

Adventures in Middle-earth

Part 1 of a series
Word Count: 2,136

Scene setter

Synopsis: Being an extreme introvert and stumbling into Middle-earth and joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield 



Originally posted by laurensparkesstuff

There was something about the forest behind your back garden that had this weird vibe, you could never put your finger on it. You felt a strange tingle in your chest every time you’d go near there.
Sometimes, on a starry night, you’d sit in your back yard and listen to the breeze rolling over the trees and relax, it was a nice feeling, not odd, painful or discomforting. It was delicate and pure. Something about how the moon shone through the leaves and left shadows on the floor near your feet made you feel like something magical was in that forest, probably your childish nature. You loved to make believe something interesting would happen to you and you’d be on an adventure, just like they do in the movies. It was kind of an ironic fantasy to have.

Originally posted by livingstills

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Whore (Part 3)


Summary: Dean finally let it out. He told you how he actually felt about you. But, will you accept them and give him a second chance, or will it completely blow up in his face

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1027

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff.

(A/N): Well, this is the last part of “Whore.” Guys, this was a really fun short series to write and I’m glad so many of you actually enjoyed it. To tell you the truth, when I posted the first part, I wasn’t really proud of this story. I didn’t think that this was my best write. I prepared myself to get some likes, maybe one or two re-blogs. Maybe gain a follower or two… But, what I didn’t expect…. What I didn’t expect was to see so many asks and questions to continue it. I didn’t expect the amount of followers that I now have, or the many likes and re-blogs. I’m not trying to brag, all i’m trying to do is thank you guys. THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH! You have no idea how happy ya’ll actually make me. I honestly have no words to describe how much. 

Anyway, I’m done with my positive rant xD. I really hope you enjoy this last part. Like I said, I had fun writing this. I may or may not do a mini epilogue but I can’t say for sure. Now, on with the ending!”

(BTW: (Y/L/N) mean “Your Last Name” for those of you who didn’t know.)

(Part 1), (Part 2)

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Anon requested:

Could you do an imagine with Carl where the reader gets hurt really badly an Carl thinks she is dead, so he tells her everything he couldn’t say before and she wakes up to see him crying and it’s super fluffy and sad, maybe even a kiss. Thank you! Love you writing!! And you blog!<3

First of all, thank you so much! This is such a cute idea! I’m getting excited thinking about it :D haha


“Y/n, I’m really bored. Wanna come on a walk with me?” Carl whines, leaning against the door frame. Carl and yourself are best friends, going through the apocalypse together. You slowly place down your comic, giving him the look of ‘do I have to?’, but he insists. 

“Where are you two going?” Rick stops the two of you in your tracks, placing a firm hand on both shoulders. 

“On a walk, it’s so boring in there! Don’t worry Dad, we’ll be safe.” Carl says, fiddling with his gun. Once given the all clear from Rick, you and your best friend set off, exploring this new world. 

“So, anything new happening in your life?” Carl asks, that signature cheeky smirk growing on his lips. He casually drags his feet along the dusty path, hands resting in his pockets. You laugh and shake your head,

“What do you think, Grimes?” He shrugs. 

A few seconds of comfortable silence washes over you both, listening to the birds and your shoes scraping against the gravel. You enter a small village, crashed cars and smashed windows everywhere.

“Wait-” He puts out a hand, stopping you, “I think I can hear walkers”

“What?” You ask, even though you heard him right. As if on cue, a small herd, about six, revolting walkers emerge from around the corner shop, groaning and gnashing their rotting jaws. 

“Carl!” You squeal, attaching yourself on to his plaid shirt. He takes out his gun, not saying a word. Without hesitation, he pulls the trigger. 

Come on, you think, you’ve prepared yourself for this. You quickly grab your pistol from your leather belt, taking a few steps back as they approach you. You shoot, killing about two whilst Carl gets three. The remaining walker continues to hurl itself towards you, attempting to grasp your shirt. Unable to walk any further, you bash your head against a metal lamppost, falling unconscious.

“Y/n!” You vaguely hear, after a gunshot. Everything is black, tuning in and out of Carl’s words. 

“Come on, y/n! Wake up, please!” Carl cries, shaking your hot shoulders. His big hands trace your cheek, as he mops the blood from your head.

“Please, you have to wake up. Don’t you dare die on me! I love you, okay? You are my everything, just please don’t leave me now…” The blood continues to gush out of your wound, the life draining out of you. 

Carl clutches on to you tightly, sobbing, “Okay, I know you can’t hear me but I think you’re beautiful. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you leave now I don’t know what I’ll do. Everyday, you improve my life just a little bit, and I love you for that. I love the way you act around Judith, the way that you lighten every soul whenever you enter a room, the way that you never fail to make me laugh. I love you, y/n, and if you die, I die too…" 

"I love you too, Grimes…” You whisper, gently opening your eyes to his beautiful face. 

“Y/n!” He shouts relieved, suffocating you in a hug. You wince, beginning to cry with the shooting pain throughout your head. 

“Come on, lets get you back” Carl says, lifting you up.

“Carl.. was all of that true?” You shyly ask, trucking your hair behind your ear. 

He blushes, “Yeah, very true…” The very first awkward moment between the two of you occurs as he takes a step closer. He gently places a hand on your back, pulling you into him. You hesitate before lightly attaching your lips his, butterflies dancing in your stomach at this new feeling. 

“I love you, y/n” He whispers, holding you tightly.

As always, I don’t know how to end it haha. I’ll just leave it there, super cheesy :P Hope it was okay! 

-Becky x

anonymous asked:

Undertaker, Ciel, and Sebastian seeing their s/o cry, for whatever reason (omg your blog is hella awesome)

Thank you~ I actually really like this request (・ω・)

Warning: The Undertaker one contains spoiler from The Green Witch Arc. Kinda. I’m just telling.

The amount of tears Undertaker shed through his whole life was impossible to count. There were years when he couldn’t handle his own suffering, crying himself to sleep and waking up with the dried sorrow underneath his eyelids. And just when he thought he had finally found a way to release from the sadness, when he decided to take away his own life, he had been punished by being stuck in an immortal form for the eternity, having an obligation to deal with the death everyday.

Even though Undertaker himself wasn’t sure about his real age anymore, he had found his life dull until the moment he meet you. The person who was laughing at his jokes genuinely, accepting him the uneasy being he was and caring about him with whole heart seemed like a blessing for him, causing him to feel warm, soothing sensation of love in his heart, which he thought was forgotten long ago. A wonderful human like you couldn’t be sad, he was taking it to himself seriusly and made sure you were smiling at least once per day, even if it meaned making fool of himself in front of you, only to cause you laugh at his behaviour.

That was the reason why the grim reaper almost dropped a massive volume of an encyclopedia when he came back from the back of his shop and found you sitting on the closed coffin, crying your eyes out. He immediatelly rushed toward you, heart beating in his chest rapidly, reminding a caged hummingbird. Placing a book on the counter, he kneeleed in front of you and brushed aside few strands of your hair by the long, black nail, so he could see your face.

“What is the matter, poppet?” he asked and waited unpatiently for an answer which didn’t come. The only response he received was a long sob.

You peeked at him and noticed green eyes observing you carefully, long scar across his face even more visible than usually. He seemed to be truly troubled, the grin completely dissappeared from his face makim him look serious.

“It is nothing,” you muttered and forced a small smile toward him which he took with a frown.

“Do not say that,” he ordered, tone of his voice lower than ever before. “If there is something troubling you, it means that you care about it, and there is a real problem which needs solution. And I will help you to find it. Deal?”

After a moment of deep thought, you nodded. Grim reaper’s hands placed on your knees squeezed them slightly making you squirm in surprise.

“I didn’t hear you,” he teased, the corners of his lips moving upward.

“What am I sup-“

Suddenly, he neared to you and placed a quick, sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Promise me that you will always tell me about your problems, dearest,” he asked. “I will do everything in my will to find a way to solve it.”

You couldn’t help but smile. When needed, he could truly be caring and serious, supporting you in every single part of your life.

Who knew such a wise words could came from a man who has committed suicide.


Ciel seemed to be on the edge of panic. You were feeling bad, really bad and none of his methods to calm you succeed. He was trying for some time now and started to doubt in his infallibility, watching you sitting on the sofa and staring blankly at the wall, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

He understood, better than anyone, how sadness can really take over, making you unable to think about anything else, feeling as you were going to give up on everything. However, he couldn’t and wasn’t going to leave you like that only because at that moment he didn’t know how to make you feel better. It was his priority, after all.

That was why he ordered to prepare the best melissa tea for you to calm your nerves, bring few blankets so you woulnd’t catch a cold and to warm your cool hands. He was constantly opening and closing the window, not sure if you would rather like to listen the birds singing outside, or if it annoyed you. He even borrowed few incenses from Prince Soma to create a peaceful atmosphere around you which could probably help you to stop the unpleasant thoughts. At least, that was what he heard.

Resigned, he sat next to you and placed the gaze on his knees where he was playing with his fingers nervously. He always had to deal with his sadness by himself, that was why was it so hard for him to help you, since he knew time was the best medicine. Still, he couldn’t handle your tears, the vision of you feeling even in the tiniest part as bad as he did, made him tremble. No, you were supposed to be happy and he was supposed to give you everything to create a smile on your lips every single day. It was his duty, as well as the vow he silently gave.

Ciel climbed on the sofa completely, not caring about making the fabric dirty with the sole of his shoes, and hugged you, hiding the face in the curvature of your neck. Digging his fingers in your clothes, he held you tightly to himself, wishing to make your sadness finally dissappear, even if it meaned such a desperate actions from him.

“I love you,” he muttered to your ear. “I love you, I love you so much, you are everything to me.”

His voice cracked.

“I am here with you and I will never leave you,” Ciel contunued. “I promise, so do not cry anymore, please. I love you.”


Sebastian was confused. Obviously, he get used to the way humans expressed their emotions, that way or another, and yet seeing you crying was something which made his heart move.

At first, he wanted to know the reason of your unusual behaviour. Did anybody hurt you? Should he kill or just break their legs as a punishment? Or maybe it was you, who harmed yourself unintentionally? Did you fall? Broke the ankle? In that case he was obligated to call a doctor. But what if the reason was even more obvious? He knew the power hidden in the books which could make a man cry not once.

Thousands of thoughts were flashing through his mind, as the butler stood behind you, unable to move since for the first time in many, many years he clearly didn’t know what to do. Sebastian growled at himself internally, scolding for not being prepared for such an accident. His master wasn’t frankly showing his emotions, especially not sorrow, therefore the demon wasn’t sure how could he succesfully help you.

“My precius…” he started, approaching you and placing gloved hand on your shoulder wanting you to look at him, but being in that case you clearly refused, hiding the face in your hands even more. “What seem to be a trouble?”

As the answer you only sniffed loudly and he sighed. Goodness, he was too old for that, not to mention the tight feeling growing in his stomach. Helplessness wasn’t his kind of thing, moreover, he was never sitting quietly and waiting for the solution, instead of that preferring acting and taking care of everything personally to be sure it was accomplished the best it could.

He gently grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of you, taking your palm closer to his lips and kissing the back side, not letting it go even when the kiss ended.

“Please,” he whispered and his warm breath tickled your skin. “Tell me what happened so I can help you. I am assuring you, anything which caused those feelings in your fragile heart will severy pay for that.”

Slowly, you embraced him and hugged tightly as if it was the last thing you were holding for your dear life. It didn’t take him long to return the caress and the position you were currently stuck in caused you to feel his heartbeat, as well as for him – yours. Sebastian wipped off the drop from your cheek by his thumb and inhaled deeply, enyoing your scent.

“Tears don’t suit you, my precious.”

DANNY PHANTOM HEAD CANONS (Or rather Savant Pa hc's under the guise of regular hc's)

For a while I’ve been MAJORLY invested in Savant Par (the name of the pairing between Tucker and Danny) and once I become invested in something… Well ya best believe there’s gonna SOME form of a contribution. Ok, here we go. )

~Cause Danny probably doesn’t really sleep a lot, the chances of him nodding off either in class or simply walking down the street are a likely idea. Tucker will start to notice when Danny becomes drowsy/drifting in and out of consciousness and carry him on his back until they get to either one of their houses. ~ Danny probably doesn’t have a lot of time to eat. So whenever he can, he will just DEVOUR whatever’s in sight or what he can get his hands on. (One time he challenged Dash to how many slices of pizza he could eat. Tucker and Sam had to stop Danny in the end. Dash was thoroughly freaked out/concerned)

~Sometimes Tucker daydreams what it would be like to move in with Danny. Them owning their own house with four or five dogs. He sometimes envisions Sam in his dream. (Cause they’re all precious to each other)

~Danny really really likes Assassin’s Creed! (He attempts to save up money to buy his own Ezio costume through various odd jobs. Sam ends up buying it for him cause she wants to see him happy) And Danny will spend hours jumping from building to building and having fun. (Tucker and Sam know he’ll be okay if he falls, cause he can just change. But it still doesn’t stop them having mini heart attacks when the see him lose his footing)

~It’s a secret held between the trio and Jazz, but Danny loves birds. He met his first budgie, ‘Spectre’, he affectionately named, after finishing up a fight with Vlad. (Spectre, among many other budgies, robins, starlings, sparrows and even parakeets come to chill and sit on his head) (Even sit in his hair!)

~One of Danny’s favourite bands to listen to is Walk the Moon. (He loves their upbeat rhythms and lyrics) If he feels particularly stressed or upset, he may call Tucker to come over and they’ll both listen to WtM for hours.

~Sam made them all friendship bracelets when they first met, they all still have them tucked in little locked chests in their bottom dresser draws

~Whenever Danny wants a new game, he WANTS THE GAME. He’ll be so dedicated and invested to getting it he’ll go to midnight releases. (Obviously Tucker and Sam come with him to make sure he doesn’t get hurt/trampled/ambushed and buy him coffee to stay awake)

~(Because I love Buff Tucker) Tucker trains to stay in shape by lifting weights and such. That way whenever Danny’s walking in the hallway to get to class, he can defend Danny from anyone that so much as tries anything. (Even standing behind Danny leaning on lockers and staring at the jocks DEAD IN THEIR FACES. (That’s a few headcanons I have!

Maybe I’ll write more some time in the future! Thank you for reading this!!) Thank you to @knightlystride for fuelling a lot of the se ideas


Original Request: can you do a Bellamy imagine where you both argue a lot at the camp but you have a secret crush for each other. Then one day you and Bellamy and a few other walk through the woods when you get attacked by Grounders and one of them is aiming at Bellamy but then you push him aside and take the bullet for him. You collapse and Bellamy catches you and carries you back to the camp where he never leaves your side till you wake up so he can tell you his feelings :)

It was another regular stressing day at the Camp and you were having fun with your favourite pastime. Arguing with Bellamy Blake.

„Bellamy, it’s too dangerous. The Grounders are out there. Everywhere. We shouldn’t move into places we don’t know.“

„We’ve talked about this, (y/n)“, Bellamy said, securing his bag. „This is the best way to move faster through the woods. And it’s safer. Furthermore“, he continued, throwing the bag over his shoulder
„…we do have weapons.“ With these words, and a click as he released the safety catch on his automatic,he just walked past you, getting ready for your trip into the lovely woods of Earth.

Slowly your small group tried making their way through the woods. You and a few others were holding pens and old paper manuals to write on, noting everything you saw, while Bellamy and Miles followed you, weapons at the ready.

The forest was unusually silent, the only sound you could hear were the leaves rustling and the cracking of the dead branches as you stepped on them.

Something about your current situation made a shiver run down your spine. Something was not right.

And after going further into the woods, you finally realised what bothered you in this scene.

It was too quiet. No animal seemed to roam around you, no bird was chirping in the trees.

„Stop“, you whispered, just loud enough for Bellamy to hear you.
„Why“, he asked, sincerely on alert, looking down at you. Even though you seemed to annoy him most of the time, he knew when he had to listen to you.
„The birds“, you whispered, slowly looking up into the trees.
Bellamy followed your example, lifting his gaze slowly, while squinting his eyes against the sunlight.
There they were. Almost perfectly camouflaged in the green crowns of the trees, but still there.
„Grounders“, Bellamy whispered and you nodded.
Trying to keep calm, you caught up with the rest of the group.
„Run“, you whispered, but the only thing you got, were confused glances from the others. „Run!“, you yelled again, and this time you just dashed forward, hoping the others would follow your example.

You ran as fast as you could, arrows flicking around you, just millimeters from your head. Miles was on your right, Bellamy to your left, right behind you.
You ran and ran, as you suddenly found yourself facing a great stone wall.

„It was a trap“, you breathed, quickly turning around. Bellamy stood behind you, aiming at the grounders, shooting at everything that moved, while you tried to make out where the arrows came from. „They were leading us here.“

„Let’s worry about this later“, Bellamy yelled, aiming at another tree. „We have to get out of here.“

Frantically you nodded, scanning your surroundings for a way out.
But instead of an easy exit, you spotted a Grounder, aiming directly at Bellamy, who was occupied, shooting in the exact opposite direction.
„Bellamy!“, you screamed, before running over to him, directly between him and the arrow.

The next thing you felt was a piercing pain in your back, causing you to gasp in shock.

From this moment on, everything seemed too fast for you. As if looking through thick mist, you saw Bellamy turning around, his eyes opened wide. Your knees were yielding, but before you hit the ground, Bellamy was there to catch you. Surprised you noted that you could see his arms around you, but you felt nothing, except for the burning pain in your back. „(Y/n)“, he breathed, his eyes frantically searching your face.
That was the last thing you saw, before the pain was finally strong enough to make you lose your consciousness.

Bellamy’s POV

Bellamy looked back as he heard (y/n) shouting his name. Right when he turned around he saw the arrow hit her and her eyes open wide in pain. Her breathing stopped for a second, before her knees yielded and she fell directly into his arms.
Bellamy held her, the grounders probably still around them, but he didn’t care.
He had blocked out anything other than the limp girl in his arms. As careful as he could, trying not to touch the arrow, he lifted her up, looking around.
Miles had stopped shooting, and only then Bellamy realised, that the arrows from the Grounders had stopped as well.

They were either dead or had retreated. Dirty bastards.

Slowly the other boys came out of their hiding places, their gazes fixed on (y/n)’s paralysed body in Bellamy’s arms. „Bellamy“, one of the guys started, but Bellamy didn’t want to listen.
„We have to get back to the Camp“, he ordered. „Now.“

And with these words he went back into the woods, carrying her as fast as he could back to the camp, while he prayed over and over that she wouldn’t die.

Finally they reached the Camp, to get greeted by a bunch of guys, probably done with their work. „What happened?“, Finn asked, but Bellamy didn’t answer. He had clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed. „Get Clarke“, he demanded. „Tell her to come to my tent as fast as possible!“

And with these words Bellamy had carried her into his tent.

Carefully he layed her on her stomach. The arrow was protruding out of her, in a strangely grotesque way. It had bored deep inside her flesh, the skin strangely parted around it. He almost threw up at the sight.
But he didn’t dare to pull it out.

Instead he just stared down at her face which had grown incredibly pale.
She had saved him. If it weren’t for her, he would be the one with the arrow sticking out of his back. And he would have been dead, that was sure. Grounders usually knew how to aim.

Bellamy clenched his jaw and tried to fight back the tears that were stinging in his eyes.
No weakness. Not now.
„Where the hell is Clarke!“ he yelled out in frustration, before running his hands over his face.
She couldn’t die. Even if he didn’t want to admit this at first, this was the final drop that made him realise, that he was hopelessly in love with this stupid girl, that had been willing to give her own life for his. He wouldn’t let her die, before he told her this.
„Bellamy“, a voice ripped him out of his thoughts, as the blonde girl stepped inside his tent.„Clarke“, he nodded, before looking back at (y/n).
„Save her.“

It took an awful long time, before he was allowed to go back into his tent. When Clarke had pulled out the arrow, the flux of blood had become stronger.
He had panicked, and he was ashamed for doing so. Some of the boys had to guide him out of his own tent, insisting for him to stay out of there, until Clarke was finished.

But as the blood had started to drip out of her wound, and she had started coughing and choking, Bellamy hadn’t been able to do anything else other than panic.
If she died, he would never forgive himself for it.

When they finally let him back into his tent, Clarke was the only one remaining, fixating the bandage around (y/n)’s body.
„She’s fine“, Clarke said, and wiped her hands on her pants. „At least for now.“

Bellamy just nodded. „This is everything I could do for her without real medication. The arrow didn’t seem to be poisoned, fortunately. It could be that she develops a fever, though, in which case you tell me immediately, alright?“

Clarke got up, and went past Bellamy to the exit, stopping for a second as she reached him. „She’s strong. She’s gonna make it.“

Licking his lips, Bellamy nodded again.
Indeed, she was strong.

He waited until Clarke had left, before he breathed out a sigh, and layed himself next to her.
Since the wound was on her back, Clarke had positioned her on her side, making her look like a little child that had simply fallen asleep.
Her breathing was steady, and if it wouldn’t have been for the thin layer of sweat covering her forehead, he could have almost believed that she was fine.

Bellamy pulled a grimace. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was tired.
„Bellamy“, the voice asked again, and Bellamy took a deep breath. Whoever was waking him, better had a good reason.
Why was he so tired? He remembered. He had been watching (y/n). The past days, and nights. Sleep must have overwhelmed him, as – (y/n)!
Immediately Bellamy sat up, suddenly broad awake. „(Y/n)?“, he asked, his voice still husky from just waking up, as he looked down at her. She had managed to push herself into a sitting position, almost nonchalantly, but the look on her face betrayed her. „Lay back down“, he demanded, but (y/n) just shook her head. „I can’t lie anymore“, she groaned and tried to find a more comfortable position.
She shifted, causing her to gasp, just halfway through her movement, and almost fall down onto the blanket again.
Without thinking twice, Bellamy wrapped an arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling, and supported her position. (Y/n) shot him a questioning look.
Exactly in that moment Bellamy realised in what an awkward position he was in - he had touched her, without her permission. The only thing they ever did was argue, so the chances of her wanting to get touched by him were incredible low. Still, he didn’t want to let her go.
„You saved my life.“ (Y/n) nodded slowly, not turning her gaze away from him.
„That’s right“, she said, followed by an awkward silence. „You’re welcome, by the way.“

Bellamy was startled. Only a few hours ago he had been completely sure that the first thing he wanted to tell her, was, that he was in love with her. Instead she had tried to provoke him again.
He just nodded. He didn’t want to argue about this.
„You should lay back down“, he said instead, carefully pushing her back onto his blanket. „I’m gonna get Clarke.“

Reluctantly (y/n) obeyed, laying back down onto her side, and watching Bellamy leave.
Just as he reached the tent flap, he turned around, swallowing down his momentary anger.
„Thank you“, he said, before leaving, to find Clarke.


A small smile flashed over your face, as Bellamy had thanked you.
Finally you had time to look around. You had woken up in Bellamy’s tent, and the first thing you had seen was him sleeping next to you, in a not very comfortable looking position. Apparently he had fallen asleep, without planning to.
Waiting for Clarke you let your mind wander. Why were you in his tent? And moreover, why was he sleeping beside you?

Exhausted you massaged your temples. Thinking was hard. Your back ached, like – well, like someone had shot an arrow directly into your ribcage. You laughed dryly at the lack of metaphors in your head.

„Hey.“ Clarke stepped to you in the tent. Bellamy was nowhere in sight. „How do you feel?“

„Terrible“, you answered and tried a chuckle, but just ended up clenching your teeth. So laughing hurt, too.
Clarke gave you a small understanding smile, before she sat next to you. „Can you take off your shirt?“, she asked, whereupon you nodded. Even though you weren’t so sure if you actually could.
Gently Clarke helped you sit up, and pulled the shirt over your head. „Whose shirt is that?“
Just now you had realised, that you weren’t wearing your own clothes. „Bellamy's“, Clarke explained, placing the shirt beside her, and bending you over slightly to get a better view at your back. Inhaling sharply as she moved you, you nodded. „Your’s was too tight“, she explained on. „And you cut it open, I guess.“ „Exactly.“
You clenched your teeth, as Clarke removed the bandage, that still stuck to the dried blood.
You tried to get your thoughts on another topic to distract yourself from the pain. „What happened after I was hit?“, you asked, gaze fixed on your fists. „Bellamy brought you here. We had to kick him out of the tent, as I tried to save you“, Clarke told you. „Sorry, this can hurt a bit.“
She pressed a wet cloth on your wound. You plunged your nails into the flesh of your palms, to keep silent. Probably alcohol for disinfection, you concluded.
„He didn’t leave for one second“, Clarke added, as she started to wrap a new bandage around your body. „He barely slept, he barely ate.“
Clarke helped you back into Bellamy’s shirt. You furled your brows. „Probably had a guilty conscience“, you whispered, partially trying to persuade yourself of this.
But Clarke shook her head. „I don’t think that’s everything.“ She stood up. „You have to rest a few days more. If you strain yourself too much, the wound could open again. And I don’t know if you’d survive such an amount of blood loss again. Alright?“
„Yes, Ma'am“, you tried to joke, though you realised that it failed miserably.
Nodding once again, Clarke left the tent.

Biting your lip you looked down at you. At Bellamy’s shirt. Why did he do this?
Clarke said, it wasn’t just his guilty conscience. But-

Your thoughts were interrupted, as Bellamy stepped inside, the tent falling close behind him.

For a moment he just stood there.

„Thank you“, you muttered out in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence. „For the shirt.“

Bellamy nodded, before sitting down next to you. „Does it hurt?“

You shrugged. „It’s alright, if I don’t move too much, I guess. But Clarke said, I shouldn’t get up, yet. Sorry, I’ll be out as soon as I can stand.“

„You can stay“, Bellamy said, avoiding your glance. This was way too awkward.

„Okay, Bellamy“, you said, shifting so you could look better at him, „What’s going on here?“

Bellamy kept silent. „Bell. Clark told me, that you stayed here caring for me, while I was unconscious.“

Bellamy nodded. „I did.“ Silence. „Look, you don’t have to do this anymore. I’m better, and I definitely won’t die. So, you don’t have to have a guilty conscience anymore, and-“
„A guilty conscience?“, Bellamy asked, finally looking at you. „It wasn’t about conscience, (y/n).“

„About what was it then?“ „I stayed here, because I actually care for you, (y/n)!“
For a second you just sat there, staring at him. „What?“

„I care about you, (y/n). An awful lot.“

„Bellamy, I -“

„I love you, (y/n), okay?“

Exhausted, Bellamy leant back running a hand over his face. He looked straight ahead, gaze avoiding yours.
„Are you serious?“, you asked, looking at his profile. Bellamy just nodded.

„I thought you hated me“, you whispered, letting your voice trail of, while now looking at your own hands.
Bellamy stood up abrubtly. „I should go.“
„No, Bell, wait!“, you tried to stop him, attempting to grab his leg. A sharp pain shot through your back, stealing your breath for a second.

In the same second Bellamy was back at your side again, supporting you.

„Stay“, you answered through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain. „I said that I thought you hated me. Not that I hate you.“
Carefully Bellamy sat beside you, supporting your weight with his arm. „(Y/n), I -“

„Truth is…“, you started, taking a deep breath, „…that I have the worst crush on you that you can imagine.“
Bellamy’s brows furled, while he tried to process the information.
„Not exactly the reaction I had expected“, you laughed dryly, giving him a challenging look.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. „Don’t you dare try to argue now.“
You smirked. „Me? I never argue, you should know that.“
„(Y/n)“, he said, his tone warning. You decided to exhaust him a bit more.
„Well, there is nothing you can do to stop me.“ But instead of him answering back, he just lifted an eyebrow.

„Oh, believe me, there is“, Bellamy said, leaning down to you, to press a soft kiss onto your lips.

„Okay, that might work.“

requested by anon


And if you come back, Cunning Man, there will be another witch like me. There will always be another witch like me, because there are always going to be things like you, because we make space for them. But right now, on this bleeding piece of earth, I am the witch and you are nothing. By the blinking of my eyes, something wicked this way dies.

He said, “Miss Tiffany, the witch… would you be so good as to tell me: what is the sound of love?”

Tiffany looked at his face. The noise from the tug-of-war was silenced. The birds stopped singing. In the grass, the grasshoppers stopped rubbing their legs together and looked up. The earth moved slightly as even the chalk giant (perhaps) strained to hear, and the silence flowed over the world until all there was was Preston, who was always there.

And Tiffany said, “Listen.”

I wanted to write a post about what Terry Pratchett’s books meant to me, but where to even begin. I made good art and good friends. I’m a little smarter and kinder because I read his books then talked to other people about them. He said things like Evil starts with thinking about people as things and You need to believe in things that aren’t true. How else can they become? and Never build a dungeon you wouldn’t be happy to spend the night in yourself. And lo, everything had a pun in it.

Katniss isn’t the mockingjay… but her children are

I don’t mean to insinuate that Katniss isn’t the central character of The Hunger Games series or that she isn’t the catalyst for a revolution or the symbol of rebellion to her people. She is all of those things and more. She is cast by the rebellion as the Mockingjay, and she comes to identify as that role, albeit reluctantly. I would argue, though, that she just isn’t the mockingjay. There’s a qualitative difference between the two. One capital letter can make a world of difference. So let’s talk more about that little “m.”

The Hunger Games is, among other things, a treatise on how we, as a society, care (or don’t) for our children. It’s a pacifist call to stop using our children in the theater of war. This is corroborated when Katniss thinks, “[S]omething is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children to settle its differences.” She even comes to embrace what Peeta cautioned against in his first Capitol interview, that humans as she knows them ought to die off so that “some decent species [can] take over.” (MJ 377)

This new species of human is the mockingjay.

Suzanne Collins goes through great pains to relay a few basic truths to the reader from the outset of The Hunger Games:

  • Katniss is a “mini me” version of her deceased father. Whereas her mother and sister are delicate and fair like the merchant class, Katniss is Seam Strong: she’s not only darkly complected like her father, but she shares his rebellious and free spirit. There is nothing merchant class about Katniss. She is, to her core, Seam.
  • Katniss can’t bear the thought of having children in the world she knows. If it strikes you as odd that Suzanne Collins would have a 16-year-old girl talking about having (or not having) children within the first several pages of the series, then you’re onto something. This is an overarching theme and preoccupation, and it’s perhaps the most important one to Katniss as a character. Having, or not having children, is representative of Katniss’ future. By not wanting to have children, she is resisting the system in the only way she can as a disenfranchised person. It’s her way of opting out of the future altogether.
  • There is a specific mythology behind the mockingjay as a species, and Suzanne Collins wants us to get it exactly right. (we’ll talk about that more in a sec).     

Why do these three points matter?

Let’s start with the mythology behind the mockingjay. Here’s what Collins tells us:

“They’re… something of a slap in the face to the Capitol. During the rebellion, the Capitol bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was muttations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabberjay that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively male, that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centers to be recorded. It took people awhile to realize what was going on…Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centers were shut down and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

Only they didn’t die off. Instead, the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds, creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies.” (THG 42-43)

Apologies for the extended quote! But this is some heavy stuff… it’s the heart and soul of the series. The Capitol creates a weapon against its people, the male jabberjay, a bird excellent with words. Ultimately the jabberjay proves useless to the Capitol- worse than useless, even. Destructive. The rebels use it for their own cause. And then the jabberjay mates with the female mockingbird and creates a new species that should never have existed. Suzanne Collins might as well have put a “spoiler alert” before this paragraph. This foreshadows exactly what happens in the series. And she just told us on page 42. That saucy minx.

Katniss is the mockingbird. She isn’t a mutt of anything; she is purely her father, a product of the Seam. She is so “Seam” she is practically a monolith. As a child, she overhears her father singing and spouting anti-Capitol political rhetoric, and she replicates his call, getting scolded by her mother. (THG 6, MJ 123) When her father would sing, all the birds would stop to listen to him. And lo and behold!, the same is true of Katniss. (THG 301). Throughout the series, Katniss only ever sings the songs her father taught her, those she heard as a child. She doesn’t have a song of her own. The mockingbird, in literature, symbolizes innocence and purity. And, despite the countless horrible things Katniss thinks about herself, she is an innocent. She isn’t privy to the political machinations of the adults around her. She doesn’t even know the content of her own heart. She’s pure (but for Peeta she’s perfect).  

….Which brings us to Peeta. He is the jabberjay. He is described by Katniss as being good with words more times than it’s useful to recount. One of my favorite examples is when Katniss thinks, “Peeta doesn’t need a brush to paint images… He works just as well in words” (MJ 22) In fact, following his first interview with Caesar Flickerman, she adds, “I don’t care [that he is a traitor]. Not what he says or who he says it for, only that he is still capable of speech.” (MJ 27) He is the voice of reason in her world, the leader she envisions in a just society. Just as Peeta hears her call and is “a goner,” so too is Katniss for him. They are two songbirds impossibly, irrevocably attracted to each other.

Peeta isn’t just a songbird, though. He is, specifically, the jabberjay.  He is tortured by the Capitol, turned into an “evil-mutt version” of himself, and is sent to destroy Katniss and, therefore, the rebellion (MJ 243). When he is rescued and brought to District 13, the Capitol’s scheme has apparently worked. He tries to kill her (let’s not talk about that), and his attraction to her is “gone” (her words, not mine). He uses the “L” word with Katniss for the first time- in past tense (ouch! it burns!!!). And he says to her, “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” (MJ 230) Let’s just say that hijacked!Peeta isn’t immediately a fan of the bird in front of him. But he’s a homing bird, and time after time, he finds his way back to her. In the beginning of Mockingjay, Katniss notes that “Peeta would have nothing to come home to anyway. Except me…” (9). And he does. Again and again, he finds his way back home to her.

If Katniss is the mockingbird and Peeta is the jabberjay, that makes their children the mockingjay. Katniss had been drawn to the mockingjay since she was a child, admitting that there was “something comforting about the little bird” (THG 43). Despite her insistence on not having children within a totalitarian regime, the mockingjay always served as a symbol of hope for her, even if she didn’t want to admit why. Katniss and Peeta’s children are that hope- and “only Peeta” could give her that. Peeta finally gets Katniss to buy into that future, to allow herself to feel the hope he has always represented to her. Falling in love and having children together is the way to show the world that they, as people, are more than just pieces in anyone’s Games.

So Mockingjay must end with the children, with a girl and a boy who possess traits of each of their parents and who are a new species of mutt that the Capitol never intended to exist. These children are the most important characters in the series. Katniss and Peeta’s children are the symbol of hope that we were promised, as readers, from the very beginning. They are the mockingjay. They don’t know that they dance on the ashes on the dead, and that’s okay. The fire and ashes are in the past, and the mockingjay is the symbol of a hopeful future, freewheeling in a sunshine-filled meadow. Suzanne gives us that token to carry with us, to take into whatever games we find ourselves forced to play.

(And a shout-out to everlarkedalways for inspiring me to write this)

Everyday Sexism is when I was 12, on my first day of secondary, having an idiot at least three years older than me pinch my ass then smile at me when I turned around to kick him in the balls. And his friends laughed and he called me a bitch when I shouted for him not to touch me.

Everyday Sexism is when I was 13 and my friend was tackled by a boy in my year and “humped” whilst she was lying on the ground whilst he and his friends laughed. When I shouted for him to stop he laughed even harder, and only when I spat in his face with the food I was eating did he finally stop.

Everyday Sexism is when I was 14 slapped upside the head for telling a boy he wasn’t funny. After he ran past me so I couldn’t hit him back. He only ran off when he saw me calling my older brother to come and get me. Everyone at the bus stop whispered about “How I deserved it,” or looked away uncomfortably.

Everyday Sexism is when I was 15 and catcalled by someone on a paintball booth as a way to sell their product, and told I was being rude and should learn some restraint in front of children when I flipped him the bird and told him to fuck off.

Everyday Sexism is at 16 having a boy grind his ass across my desk then put me in detention for shoving him off so he banged his knee off the desk in front whilst he got off scotfree.

Everyday Sexism is at 17 running from class after being verbally, sexually humiliated and only when a male classmate spoke up did it stop. I was terrified to go in and talk to my male teacher the next day even with my mum fully behind me, even when the male teacher listened to everything I said and put it forward as a serious issue in my school because I was scared I would be told I was lying.

Everyday Sexism is at 18, yesterday, walking down the street in my modern-vintage outfit and hearing a boy remark to his friend, “I know what I’d do with that,” And have him gawp at me despite my disgusted looks and his friend telling him not to stare.

Everyday Sexism is being told that I’m being ridiculous for being scared by my female friends.  

Unrequited, Unabashed, and Unwavering

Summary: Five-year-old Peeta didn’t want to go to school.  He just wanted to stay home at the bakery.  Not even the allure of meeting his soulmate could change his mind.  Pure fluff, soulmates AU.  

Notes: Co-written by FanficAllergy & @rosefyrefyre and betaread by the awesome @javistg & @xerxia31.

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