#me: I don’t have a type

[bethsvrse]

I like my men to be on the spectrum

[h-f-k]

Daniel Ricciardo with long curly hair and beard… okay fINE i’ll give in

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[heartless-aro]

Dismantling the relationship hierarchy is not about rearranging it so that sexual and romantic relationships are devalued while QPRs become the new “more than friends.” We need to completely do away with the idea that relationships exist on a fixed hierarchy. Some people will consider friend(s) or a zucchini/QPP the most important part of their life. For some people, their most important relationship will be a sexual relationship (and not necessarily one which includes romance!). And some people will still consider their romantic partner the most important person in their life, and that’s fine too.

Just as it’s harmful to tell an aroace person that romantic and sexual relationships are the most important ones, it’s also harmful to tell an alloaro person that sex is inherently less important than romance or to tell an alloromantic aplatonic person that friendship is inherently more important than romance. There is no way to rank relationships that will not devalue the experiences of at least one group of people, nor is there any reason why we need to rank relationships in the first place.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[8pxl]

PSA 🗣️ another scammer using genAI without disclosing it

mixlgirl (used to be pixgirl) has been posting generated AI (targeting fandoms) without disclosing it, passing it off as their genuine art and has apparently scammed at least one person into ‘commissioning’ them. this is a public PSA so yall can block them, and not interact. please do not harass them!

it’s incredibly shitty to be disingenuous while posting AI but even shittier to scam people with it 🤢 stay diligent yall

[awaxagoras]

giggling and kicking my feet at stalker phainon being somewhat canon (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

currently thinking abt phainon who is obsesseddddd w you ♡ [ fwb ? exes ? awkward situationship ? guy you don’t even know ? something else ? I can’t decide lol it’s up to u ] he has ur notifications on and watches ur story / likes ur posts literally seconds after u post them . doesn’t feel embarrassed abt it . likes every one of them regardless of what the post is abt — surely you’ll notice how he’s obviously flirting w you ! [ you don’t . it’s just a like button , phainon . . . ]

he’s kinda crazy . analyzing all of ur posts trying to decipher any sort of hidden meaning behind them . that song you just posted . . is it about him ? are u trying to tell him something ?[ it has nothing to do w him . it’s just a song ] he’s got the lyrics pulled up , just in case . even if there’s nothing behind it , at least he knows what music you like ! definitely brings it up casually [ it’s not really that casual . you weren’t even talking about music just now ] to impress you . you like the same bands ? no way ! you must be soulmates or something haha ( ˆ𐃷ˆ) [ you know it’s a joke , but why is he watching ur reaction so seriously ? ]

he knows wayyy too much about you . he tries to play it cool but every now and then he’ll make a comment abt something that you swear you’ve never told him [ that reference he just made was a coincidence , right ? you don’t remember telling him abt that . actually , you’re pretty sure you only mentioned it on your private account . . ] should you ask him abt it , he’ll just laugh and shrug it off . of course he knows that , silly ! you really don’t remember talking ? well . . . phainon is such a nice guy . yeah , he’s probably right . you probably did tell him at some point ┐(´～｀ˇ)┌ you’re overthinking it [ you aren’t ]

ultimate reply guy . finds a way to say something to all of ur posts , even if it makes him look a bit desperate . tries sooo hard to keep the conversation going . just one conversation with him shows clearly shows anyone that he has a natural way with words but when it comes to you , he feels as though he’s forgotten how to speak entirely ! you make him nervous ! (•́︿•̀) and this is just online ! you have no idea how hard his heart beats against his chest when you speak in person . sometimes , he thinks staying composed in front of you requires the same level of resolve as being a chyrsos heir

ehehehe if this is an exes au or if you’re simply on bad terms with him , [ t-that’s not true ! you’re just . . respecting each others space right now . that’s very normal for couples . . ! which you certainly are ! stop saying you don’t know him ] this doesn’t really do anything to stop him . go ahead , block him . at this point , he could probably make a burner account with his eyes closed (ᵕ—ᴗ—) it’s not very nice of you to block your boyfriend [ he isn’t your boyfriend ] but it’s okay , he understands . he could never truly be mad at you . if you want him to watch your stories and spam your notifications with likes from a blank account for now , that’s alright . he won’t take it personally [ he should . it is quite personal ]

you can try to call him out . you can tell him to stop bothering you and to just leave you alone . smiling at his phone even while you curse him out . you unblocked his first number just to text him ! he still has a chance ! (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted

[intriga-hounds]

Genuine question here as I'm unfamiliar with the world of dog breeding — if both of Ponzu's litters were born by c-section, would that indicate a good chance that future litters would be too? Would that/does that affect your willingness to breed her in the future?

dis girl gettin SPAYED this summer!!!!!!

[purblzart]

“You were right, No one else knows what it’s like! The isolation? The loneliness? It would be enough to drive anyone mad! And Moon knows you’ve had more than your fair share! But it doesn’t have to be this way! You don’t have to be alone! Just please, listen to me!”

[spidehpig]

my fever induced thoughts about bird is horny & ovulating x mean bastard ghost

mostly just rambling, didn’t check for coherency or grammar. i’ve been plagued by these thoughts and just had to get them out sorry.

ghost x reader

mean bastard ghost with a bird who’s been so needy and clingy all day long. he’s not really sure what’s got her panting and gagging for his cock like a whore, must be a cycle thing. either way he doesn’t mind, in fact he finds it amusing. he’s so used to just indulging himself, parting her thighs with his meaty hands and swiping his tongue along her folds as her little squeals and protests fall on deaf ears.

it’s not everyday that he’s the one to wake up to her trying to take what she needs from him. her pretty moans shaking away the last tendrils of sleep from him as the wet cotton of her panties rut against his thigh and her other hand gropes at his cock straining against his boxers. he has half a mind to push the greedy brat onto her belly and just mount her right there. but this unashamed desperation radiating from his bird is a rarity he’ll indulge in.

he feels a little sick satisfaction when her sweet moans break off into a frustrated little cries as his fist clamps around her waist, halting the desperate little grind of her hips. ignores her begging and pleading as he slips from the sheets. leaves her aching and wanting as she trails into the shower after him with a cute little pout.

keeps his face stoic as he pinches and flicks at her swollen nipples, his other hand pawing at her ass. working her up into a frenzy again, makes sure she can feel his heavy cock throb against her thigh as he cups her dripping cunt. thick fingers bullying their way between her lips under the guise of washing her clean. likes the way she shivers and bucks against him when his knuckle brushes across her clit. he quickly twists the rusty shower handle when she reaches for his cock again and huffs out a raspy laugh when she squawks at him as the shower water turns to ice. doesn’t look back as he steps out and tosses a towel at her.

maybe he shouldn’t punish his little bird’s confidence and needy demands. it’s not every day he wakes up to her wet and willing, so eager to milk his cock. but he has the time and patience today. maybe it’s boredom from such a long leave or maybe he’s just a bastard he thinks as he pulls her onto his lap later as he watches the game. fingers sneaking under the fabric of her tank top to pinch and twist at her nipples until she’s squirming in his lap searching for the friction of his hard cock. waits until she’s panting and whining again before pushing her off his lap a grunting at her to go fix dinner. gives his cock a couple of lazy tugs as she shoots him a dirty look and stumbles into the kitchen on unsteady legs.

later ducks his head under the kitchen doorframe to corner her against the counter to paw and grope at her pretty hips, feels the soft skin of her inner thighs are still slick. pulls back the second she sighs and arches back against him. he ignores the way she glares at him across the table as he shovels the dinner she made him into his mouth. and just to be a prick, finishes his game after dinner while she angrily slams the dirty dishes around in the kitchen.

waits until she’s finished until he prowls off into the bedroom and lights a cigarette as he settles against the pillows. sprawled out across the center of the bed, he finally shoves the waistband of his sweats under his balls to let his heavy cock spring free. precum already leaking onto his thigh as he barks at his bird to come take care of this.

can’t help but smirk as she hesitates in the doorway. unsure if this is just another one of his cruel tricks after he had spent all day teasing her. fists his cock and tells her to come take what she needs. almost barks out a laugh as her eyes widen and she quickly wiggles out of her panties and scrambles up onto the bed. licks his lips when he gets a glimpse of her already glistening cunt as she crawls up over his hulking body. has half a mind to stub his smoke out and sit her over his hungry mouth. instead he takes another drag as her thighs stretch wide on either side of his thick waist to hump her slick cunt along the underside of his cock.

he makes no move to touch her as she ruts and humps against his cock, the bed already creaking with her frantic movements. only pausing to grit his teeth as the tip of his cock catches on her warm hole as she rocks backwards again. lights up another smoke as she leans back onto her haunches to bury two fingers into her cunt when it becomes apparent he won’t be doing anything to help satiate her needs. pupils blown as he watches her sloppy cunt swallow her little fingers. not at all enough to prep her for his cock.

she doesn’t seem to care as she lurches forward and her nails dig into the fat of his chest as she rises up onto her knees, reaching back as she pathetically tries to line his leaking cock up with her cunt. her little grunts of frustration are music to his ears as she struggles to catch the tip on her hole again. movements faltering and sputtering a little when he blows smoke in her face. sweat glistening along her brow when she glares at him and finally manages to sink down a few inches.

his eyes roll back with how tight she is, half expects her to stop and beg him to finger her open. instead she grunts in pain and tries to bounce and wiggle her way down onto his prick. barely any leverage with the way she’s already risen so far up onto her knees just to straddle his thick waist, the cushioned mattress does nothing to ease her struggle. and fuck, watching her buck and bounce just to bully his fat cock into her greedy cunt is tearing at the remains of his control.

it’s not until her walls finally relax and she sinks down onto his cock with a yowl that he finally acknowledges her. cooing and taunting her for being such a needy slag, drooling over his cock all day long. watches the way a sob wracks through her body as her hands grip at the fat of his stomach trying to get some leverage to push herself up on his cock. barely manages to rise up a few inches before she’s letting out a frustrated sob and instead just grinds back and forth on his lap with his cock buried in her cunt, so pathetic.

she yelps when he slaps her tit and growls at her to ride him proper. sniveling after his cock all day long and she can’t even take it right? he decides he’ll let her whine and mewl and beg him to just take her as she grinds on top him. she can’t even take what she needs. maybe when she finally collapses from exhaustion will he flip her over and breed her pretty cunt. seems like he’s the only one that can give her what she needs after all.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

This is not serious btw

[infinitehyperfixations]

RIP Commander Wolffe you would have loved reality tv

Look me dead in the eye and tell me that this man wouldn’t eat up some work reality tv drama every week to escape the horrors of war I dare you

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

When your extroverted friend who’s supposed to be good at this people stuff is somehow worse at picking up social cues than you are

I’m renovating the AU again because when am I ever satisfied. Anyways, I go sleep now

[rinahallowleaf]

holy fuck i LOVE women but i’ve recently discovered that i have a type. an awfully obvious one and i have no idea how i haven’t figured this out wayyyyy earlier

[am-i-interrupting]

Worth Keeping | Haymitch x Everdeen!Reader

Chapter 1 | Lost Bet

Summary: For the first five years of mentoring, Haymitch was not numb but indifferent to these new tributes, on their way towards death. This year, he's forced to change that approach when his childhood friend's little sibling is called at the reaping.

Your reaping best was a dress, knee length with sleeves that bellowed out. They were made from the slightly scratchy material of the produce bags from the capitol but that is precisely what gave the sleeves their shape. The thick material was easily manipulated and held its form rather well. The rest of the dress was made out of patches of left over fabric. A waterfall of colors. Your shoes were just regular boots, worn with time and age.

That didn’t matter. You always felt like a grand princess when you wore the dress.

It was your masterpiece. A thing you’d made over the course of a year. Carefully hiding fabric swatches when you thought they’d match the others you’d collected. You stitched it all together by your own hand and no one else’s.

You were proud of it and if the capitol didn’t like it for their shiny televisions, they could kiss your ass. ‘Cause you sure as hell weren’t gonna change it.

Burdock came up behind you. He ran his fingers through your hair. He hooked one around a small section. It was divided into three parts and he started braiding.

“Last year,” he said.

You wanted to nod but didn’t want to mess up his work. “Last year.”

There was a tense silence between the two of you. Your foot shifted from side to side beneath you. He wouldn’t look you in the face just like every other year.

“You’ll be fine,” he said as he tied off the braid.

You grabbed his hand and force a smile up at him, determined to not show your nerves. “I will be. I am.”

“You are.”

He sighed through his nostrils.

Every single reaping was different now. It didn’t used to be like this. Not years ago. It just so happened that the day of your first reaping two of your childhood friends were ripped away and neither of them came back.

“Come on, it’s getting depressing in here,” you said as you walked past your brother and out of the house door.

You breathed in the air. It was thick and heavy. There was a certain stickiness to it.

“It’s a miracle they don’t pack up their equipment,” you said, raising your voice loud enough so Burdock could hear from inside. “Rain’s in the air. Might ruin all their shiny shit.”

“They have the money to replace it,” he said as he closed the house door.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The district was normally quiet before the reaping and booming after. There was no day people drank more and worked less.

“Where’s ma and pa?” you asked.

“They never came home last night,” he answered. “Apparently there’s some coyot pack that’s been around. They wanted to find it. Then they can sleep when they get back and have no consequences.”

“Other than pa complaining tomorrow about sore his feet’ll be.”

He snorted at that and pushed you along.

You almost wanted to take off your shoes and walk down the dirt path. There was something so satisfying about that feeling of the earth between your toes. You could do it later though and you’d done it enough to know how it felt by your heart.

The boots were just so confining. No matter how worn they were, they structured in a way. Maybe your foot could fit instead the shoe but it couldn’t sit the way it was supposed to when gravity caused it to spread.

If you got anything bigger though it would weigh down your foot and rub against your skin. No matter what kind of socks you put on, it would still manage to rub your skin raw.

You gave your name, waiting for the line up.

They always put the little ones in front. Those wide, innocent eyes filled with their first experience of fear and shock. No idea how it felt to be in that position until they were in it and not able to hide the way they felt now that they were.

The perfect expressive faces for television.

That’s all anyone in the districts was to the capitol. It’s the only time they ever seemed to care about making things at least look livable but not too livable. It all had to be clean but just dirty enough.

You gave Burdock a hug right before your name was called.

You saw your parents coming in the distance. Both with tiredness etched in their every being. Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine right by their sides. You gave them all a way.

You got your hand pricked by a capitol member for what would be the last time. Your blood was smeared across the white page along with all the others of age for what would be the last time. You walked to that little closed off place for the last time.

You were almost out you weren’t stupid. You weren’t out yet.

Being one of the oldest people meant your name was in there a lot more than some others. Just, hopefully it wouldn’t be you.

Hopefully.

The whole ordeal started.

Haymitch sat down on stage. He never really did stand. He’d tried his first year and he been too drunk to stand straight. He kept leaning from side to side. Now, like every year, he clutched a bottle in his hand and had a far off look in his eyes. His feet dangled off the edge of the platform. His back covered the bottom half of the microphone stand from view as he leaned on one hand and tilted his bottle with the other.

Reaping day was hard for everybody, especially since Haymitch’s games.

Not only was it the day that two kids were going to be sent off to their death. It was also now the day that a boy had died, killed in front of all of them for trying to escape the death sentence only to reach it early.

There had been a change since that day six years ago. It was no longer Drusilla Sickle who pulled the names. That change happened almost instantly.

Now she was replaced with a much younger woman. In her twenties. She always had brightly colored and drastic makeup. A shocking outfit. You’d heard her name was. . . It had an F in there, somewhere.

She, in contrast to Haymitch, had perfect posture even in her heels. Her movements were fluid and delicate. Always thoughtfully planned.

She had a high pitched but clear voice. Perfect pronunciation. A wonderful announcer’s voice with the cheeriness but somberness to fit the capitol and the district’s emotions. All performative, surely but that perfect balance nonetheless.

As with every other year the speech played. One that made many glare or roll their eyes.

No one wanted such a drawn out and lengthy process. At least not in the districts. Like a bandage, everyone wanted it quickly dealt with.

“Now, it is time for us to discover which courageous young man and woman will be select to represent District 12 in the fifty-sixth annual Hunger Games,” and though her voice was sweet it did almost make one yearn for the harsh vinegar of Drusilla again. At least she was direct with her ever present disdain.

“Ladies first,” she said before she placed her hand in the bowl. Her hand swirled above then went below the piles of paper. She shuffled them and then drew out a single piece. Your heart froze when your name was called.

A sinking feeling you’d felt once before came to you.

Your hand went to your bracelet on your wrist. Years old and once a necklace you’d outgrown. It was wrapped and twisted around your wrist. Colorful pieces of thread stolen from Lenore Dove’s bedroom at the age of eleven. A rock from the river you’d sneak to tangled in it. It was made by you and your childhood best friend’s collective efforts just weeks before your twelfth birthday when you would be eligible for slaughter.

You turned your head, half expecting to see her, and you did. A brief glimpse of twin braids that framed a heart shaped face and a scar on the forehead above grey eyes that looked at you with the exact same horror of which you felt now.

She was gone.

You clutched the smooth stone and walked past the girls in line. They parted with no hesitation.

You looked back and saw a brief glimpse of your parents, Burdock, Tam Amber, and Clerk Carmine all huddled together and all with the same.

Peace keepers forced you forward.

You met Haymitch Abernathy’s gaze. His bottle was down on the stage. His feet were planted on the ground. He was oddly steady.

You were marched forward. Every time your feet hit the ground it was like you were being shook to your very core.

You really wished you were barefoot just to feel this dirt one last time.

As you grew closer and closer, you could see him clearer. Tears began to well in your eyes but you forced your head to stay up tall as you blinked the down. Your breath hitched in your lungs, caught on your ribcage.

Everything was just coming back to six years ago again, it seemed, as you saw that numbness which covered up fear and hurt in Haymitch’s eyes.

He spoke not a word. You didn’t expect him to.

You walked up the steps and grabbed the woman’s offered hand. It was soft. She placed her arm around your shoulder and her back other hand on your upper arm. She rubbed her thumb up and down. You were guided to your place and her touch was gone.

“And now for the boys.” A moment of silence. “Milo Declan.”

Milo was a younger boy, only twelve years old. He had strawberry blond hair and brown eyes. His face was still round with baby fat of which he’d yet to grow out of and likely never would now.

You heard the drag of a bottle against wood. Haymitch tilted it back once more. He walked away from the and out of the camera’s view.

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” the woman said as she backed away.

Milo wiped his hands on his pants before he stuck one out to you. You grabbed it, shook it.

Then were suddenly in a room. Your mother and father visited you. Hugged you. Said words you couldn’t process. Were pulled out by peacekeepers.

Burdock came in after. He hugged you. Whispered words of love and pushed your hair out of your face as he looked at you close one last time.

It was when Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine came in that reality finally sunk in.

You collapsed in Tam Amber’s arms, crying into them. Smoke cling to his clothes even though he’d been nowhere near a fire. Clerk Carmine hugged you from behind.

“You better,” you began through hitched breath, “be singing loud enough that I can hear it when I step in that arena. I don’t want to die in silence.”

Both of the men held you tighter.

“You won’t, buttercup. You won’t,” was either could say.