#dmc replies

[dailymagikarpcrochet]

jaymocked replied to your post “I don’t have a nice background for my fish tank yet so I plastered a...”

If you are considering having a fish tank, fish stores have "natural" wall paper back drops you could get, just set it up temporarily for the karps

Yes but they uggo :c

[damientd-blog]

wildfire lies // Katniss & Damien

It’s hard to wake up on the morning of the reaping and not want to go straight back to sleep.

You feel like your limbs are stuck to the bed, wrapped in spider silk like iron, brain trying desperately not to let you remember what day it is. Your plan is foiled, really obnoxiously, by a sharp rap of knuckles on the door and a tense snap of words, “Get up, c’mon.” Kae doesn’t like today anymore than you do, you know, you should just get ready without any prodding.

The morning passes by silently, you keep your mouth firmly shut because the only thing in your throat (like most of the time nowadays) is a scream.

You don’t know either of the tributes and you won’t have to, because somebody else decides to mentor each of them. They’re confident, brash, rich kids with sparkling smiles. You manage to ignore them for the entire train ride because you’re a goddamn champ. (You used to be them, used to be sure you’d win.) (And you did, emerged from the arena covered in blood and broken in ways you haven’t let yourself fully figure out yet but alive, heart thundering away.) (Frantic heartbeat and familiar hands on your shoulders and a scream ripping away all of your thoughts and you bit through your lip trying to keep it in but you lived.) You can’t look at them without bile rising in your throat. (You hope they die. For their sakes.)

You wander through the crowd of Victors at the parade circle, hands itching to swipe somebody’s flask because god knows enough people have them, and you kind of hate yourself for the impulse.

Your brain starts spinning dizzy, calculated circles when you see last year’s Victors, urging you to make nice, remembering whispers of revolution and the Mockingjay, the girl on fire, and you’re walking forward even as you’re convincing yourself that this is morally wrong, that you shouldn’t just talk to them (her) for a leg up in a power struggle you don’t even know for sure is coming, but that’s how you always have been, isn’t it, smile pretty with a knife in your hand and that’s how you won, isn’t it?

“If it isn’t the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!” You chirp, your voice sounds most normal when you're lying, recently, and your smile's wide and bright and fake, but you know nobody can tell except you. You stick your hand out, shaking Mellark’s enthusiastically and noting how Everdeen crosses her arms and shifts a little closer to her District partner. Mm, interesting. “Nice to meet you two. Damien Dempsey, but you knew that already.”