#i'm crying send help

[airenyah]

yet another day where i'm crying about the way p'aof shows relationships on screen at 2am

[books-and-pumpkins]

I've seen a lot of very emotional posts about the fact that this is the last day before we get the show, and because they made me tear up and emotional, and because also I'm not very original, I decided to make my own !

Over the last few... months ? yeah months I think, I've been becoming really invested in the show. I was so impatient, I wanted to know everything, I couldn't wait to see what everything would look like. And now, in only a few hours (way too many if you ask me) I'll finally be able to watch it all. Like, I've only been in this fandom for a little more than a year, so you could say that I'm pretty late (I totally blame it on the fact that in France the grishaverse books are not known at all, none of my friends had ever heard about them before I started reading then and they're huge book lovers), but these books are probably one of the most important thing to me. And I don't know, it might sound weird, but I remember the person I was before reading Six of Crows (because I started with the duology, being unaware that there was a trilogy before that 😅) and the person I was after. These books impacted my life in the best way possible. They made me cry, they made me laugh, they made me mad, they made me feel alive. I'll never be able to express how grateful I am for these books. I don't remember having ever loved a world and characters as much as I love the grishaverse and its characters. I fell in love with each of the crows. I fell in love with so many Grisha trilogy characters. I fell in love with Ravka, with Ketterdam, with the little glimpse of Novyi Zem we got, with Fjerda and with Shu Han. They also made me feel confident about myself, because they were the first real novels I read that weren't in my first language (because as much as I live fanfictions, I don't think my English teachers would appreciate if I listed all the fanfics I read when asked what books I read in English...) and I understood everything. They made me feel like I belonged somewhere.

So yeah, I love the books.

And I am so afraid. I'm afraid the adaptation won't be as good. I'm afraid some things I really care about will be changed. I'm afraid all the new fans won't care about the books as much as we do. I'm scared about our fandom being divided between book canon and show canon, if that makes sense. I'm afraid there will be a lot of like, ship wars, and unpleasant stuff like that.

But at the same time, I've never been so happy in my life. It's the first time I can witness books I love being adapted into a TV show. And this, all of this, I feel like it's magic. Seeing all the theories, the memes, the stills, the interviews, the teaser and then the trailer. Seeing everyone talking about it.

This fandom has also made me feel like I belonged somewhere. I wasn't there from the beginning, but I was there long enough to feel like I'm a part of this, somehow. And I cannot wait to see this big family grow bigger each passing day. Thank you all, because I've had very sweet interactions, and as a non native English speaker (is that a thing ? I'm sorry it's late I've had a long day) that was something I was so scared about, like, people not understanding what I say, but apparently my English is okay enough (yay!), and it's a gift I will always cherish, as I'm very scared to talk to people (how to make friends here ? That's a question I think I'll never know the answer to!)

I know we're all sad to see this little bubble of ours slowly disappearing because of the show and its release, because it won't be only ours anymore, if that makes sense. I am, too. But I know that it's going to be a wonderful experience, not only watching this world we care so much about coming to life, but also watching the grishaverse expanding. We're soon going to be able to talk and exchange with new fans, some that will want to read the books and some that won't, and it'll all be ok. And maybe it'll be harder to find book content. But in the end of the day, even if it is, like, please remember that it won't be impossible.

So please, be nice to new fans. Stay clowns. Still fight over who Alina is better with. Stay excited for Kanej not touching.

No mourners, no funerals !

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

So I’m reading through my fic and checking pronouns because I just dump anything that comes to mind on a page whether it’s correct or not, and I happen to spy this

Phoobia

[montyduff]

Apex // Self Para

The young Capitol tribute ventured into the territory he recalled seeing an assemblage of animals emerge in earlier that day, predators ranging from the fierce maned lion to the sneaky, underwater crocodile. He didn’t yet know which of the carnivores he would pick to tie a leash around and command. The snake demanded the task of him so plainly that he mentally deemed it doable. The instructions, though spoken to him through the medium that was the serpent, were crafted by the men and women he so often sat around the roundtable with. Given any other situation, Pegasus would have been present for the meeting and shoving his scribbled suggestions across the table and towards the pile where more scribbled suggestions gathered. It was troublesome realizing he would’ve known the crop of tributes better had he not been one of them, as no solid ideas for what he would have the snake tell them came to mind. Whoever else remained and would be out attempting to stay alive was knowledge beyond him aside from knowing firmly that District 1 was finished.

Jasper Beryl’s blood stained a pale red in spots all over both of his hands. The scent of it, he thought, could very well lure in the kind of creature he needed. A few pocket-sized watering holes offered the chance to wash his skin clean, but he refused the opportunities. The blots made him feel as predatory as the savage beasts that surrounded him, cloaked by camouflage or land masses but present for certain. Aside from the countless victor deaths that characterized the third quarter quell decades before, no one had before been responsible for the death of a victor. He alone held the title, the record, the glory. It felt as though all of Jasper’s successes and status were flowing into him and making him stronger than ever before. With the resounding strength that now pulsated through his body, Pegasus dared his fellow Gamemakers to throw what they could at him. Better yet, he silently called out to the remaining tributes and challenged them to take him down in such an untouchable state. If anyone had managed to climb to the top of the food chain, it was him.

His instincts rarely led him astray. The way the grass fluttered in the wind was recognizable. The way it bowed beneath him as he stepped on the blades. The sound of his bare feet against the ground had become a consistent sound since his memory fully restored itself. The echoes of thuds several feet from him were new. The way the tall grass swayed in one clear direction wasn’t natural. Pegasus suddenly sensed he’d been set up and that more than the dozens of cameras installed in the arena’s crevices were pointed at him. A spotlight invisible to him followed every step or flinch he made. He was being watched. 

It was incredible that the big cat hadn’t elected to pounce where it stood to sink its teeth into his throat. Instead, it revealed itself dramatically, emerging from the grass and out onto the circular patch of dirt that now seemed more like an arena within an arena. A purr rippled through him and the tiger’s yellow eyes glowed in the afternoon sun. “Hey there girl,” he stated assumingely. “I’m not here to hurt you. We can be friends. Good friends.” Making absolutely sure not to lower his defenses, Pegasus bowed to the creature with a stern, unyielding face. Simultaneously trying to make the animal feel comfortable while asserting his own authority proved an odd dynamic. Somehow he was still in one piece.

The tigress prowled around the man, sizing up her potential prey in the same way he was figuring out how best to approach her. Faithfully leaping, he took two steps forward. The distance between them decreased greatly and the man’s skin tingled with anticipation. “Don’t move,” he warned her. He put his hand up in a swift movement and immediately regretted it. The feline swatted Pegasus to the ground with fangs visible. She pressed her weight against his vulnerable chest and unleashed the fury hidden beneath her claws. Bloody gashes opened down his pectorals, one claw unluckily slicing through the man’s nipple. The tigress snapped her jaws at his face again and again, never sinking her teeth into him to seal the deal. Pegasus wrestled to escape, but was no match for the predator’s power. He thought the end was coming as she retreated to seemingly pounce once more, but after the tigress growled maliciously at the downed tribute, she bounced off him and fled into the tall grass from where she came. The attack was over, but Pegasus didn’t stir. He didn’t move a muscle until the scampering of the feline’s paws were unable to be heard. Sheer fright held his back against the dusty ground. He couldn’t tell the difference between the catty yelps from his memory and the ones he could hear from the still retreating tigress. To be afraid of an animal, one without even the modifications he so enjoyed customizing, filled him with nauseating guilt. Had the mutts he helped craft been as powerful? As merciless? As real? 

River Caulder’s quiet outburst towards him years earlier made much more sense than it ever had. The mutts in his arena were prominent and killed nearly everyone, the victor included. While Pegasus admired their creative builds and characteristics from the safety of his mansion living room, real tributes sprinted for their lives from the nerve-racking creatures, many not as lucky as he’d just been with the tiger. He tried desperately to think of anything else, to refocus on his prior objectives. He had to win the Games to get back to his family, to London, and to get back to his career. The job he spent countless hours kissing ass to climb to the top for and even more hours designing mutts that would go on to torture competitors. How could he possible return to his profession knowing what it was like to stare the muttations in the face? It was diabolical. How could the Games be made more ethical? Mutts were half the equation most times. 

Pegasus spent the fleeting afternoon and evening attempting to tame another, less dangerous predator. A crocodile ascended from beneath the depths of murky water, its jaws clamping up and down in pursuit of his ankles. An eagle squawked and just barely missed the tuffs of his hair as it soared past him. Even the scavenger hyenas managed to outdo him, teaming up and making him their target entry for dinner. Each time his chest ached with the same apprehension the tigress introduced him to. These beasts were living, breathing creatures of God. Perfect, apex predators without the need for genetic modification. He believed more and more as dusk faded that his entire belief in muttation design was an abomination. Ridden with failure, both in completing his task and as a human being, Pegasus returned to the apple tree.

The enormous serpent still coiled itself around the trunk, hissing more quietly but still as persistently as it had that morning. Lost and confused, the young man opened his arms to it. “Have I been wrong about everything?” he shouted into the night. “Did you send me out there to find that out? This is sick and twisted. I’ve only ever done what I thought was the right thing to do. Does achieving your goals mean nothing if others suffered to make it possible?” The serpent’s ability to speak must’ve been temporary, for it remained silent aside from its natural noise. For a moment, Pegasus saw Lysander where the cold-blooded reptile rested. It was unlike the man to purposefully lead him to answers or to directly interfere with the outcome of the arena’s events. This unfolding epiphany wasn’t planned or planted. Nobody meant for him to make any sort of revelation. If Mr. Vultur knew he would be unhinged by the task, he would approve it. Mr. Vultur knew more about the inner workings of the Games than anyone. If he knew what Pegasus now knew, he was as cold-blooded as the serpent he continually switched places with the more the Capitol boy stared. 

Above him, Panem’s anthem began to play. Inside him, a rapidly spreading wildfire engulfed his nerves. The young man convulsed on the ground, twitching fervently enough to toss his body several feet in one go. Every inch of his skin burned and his insides squished under the most unbearable pressure he’d ever felt. The pain was indescribable. It was greater than crashing onto the Earth, popping his shoulder into place, and being scarred by the tigress put together. He could think of nothing but the agony and how desperately he wished for it to stop. The smallest adjustment to the burning made him realize that it never would. No mention of what would happen when midnight arrived with the challenge incomplete was announced, but it hardly took a genius to put the pieces together. This was death. Pegasus never imagined it would ever come and certainly not like this. The serpent stared at him with satisfaction sitting unhidden in its eyes. Still writhing about, he silently begged for the end to come. 

Then he remembered. The unbearable torture he was going through had been pitched at one of the last meetings he’d been able to attend back in June. A punishment for being unable to do what was asked of you. The suffering would be terrible, but only the tribute could end it. They’d all loved the idea and how well it would test the strongest tributes. Only the strongest would be able to overcome it, even if it meant their deaths. His axe gleamed on the ground nearby. 

Without a second thought, Pegasus slit his throat and the convulsing ceased. His blood poured out on the patchy dirt, running like rain down the blades of grass and onto the cracked ground. His life was quickly running out and with it, all of his regrets as passengers on the blood river. While he wanted the comfort of his family or the chance to apologize to all those he may have wronged, he craved nothing more than the opportunity for redemption. He still firmly believed he would have been a victor who brought change. Now he knew it would have been change for good. To fix the Games, to replace them somehow with something less cruel. The chance wouldn’t ever come, but it was comforting to imagine all the good he could have done. 

Seconds of Pegasus Gleam’s life remained and he thought only how grateful he was the sky was the same as it was on the outside. His eyes followed patterns of stars he knew all too well. First the pointed tail of Scorpius, then the most prominent point on Lynx. Virgo sprawled out north, east, and west, and the winged horse forever flew freely through the galaxy. The bright and burning balls of gas millions of miles away gleamed the way he always hoped he did. As that light, his light, faded, Pegasus knew precisely what he would spend his next life designing. 

BOOM

[morningmistakes]

save peter parker please

!СПОЙЛЕРЫ!

- Старк…- дробно звучит мальчишечий голос, выбивая буквы словно пули, и Тони крупно вздрагивает телом, с наивной надеждой оборачиваясь на голос Паркера.

-Я…я что-то не очень хорошо себя чувствую- хнычет Питер, смотря на Тони так, будто он может помочь. Но Тони не может помочь. Все, что он может, это позволить паучку зацепиться за него цепкими пальцами, крепко прижимая его к себе. Питер переносит весь  свой вес  на Старка, и тот неуклюже заваливается вбок, сжимая в кулаке ткань костюма Паркера.

-Помогите мне, пожалуйста- скулит Питер, и его голос ломается, а вместе с ним ломается и душа Тони.

Паркер захлебывается потоком слов, пытается прижаться ближе к Тони, пока тот судорожно обнимает его, всматриваясь в искаженное страхом лицо. Некогда воодушевленное и юное лицо теперь залито слезами, и Тони готов поклясться, что не простит этого Таносу.

- Мистер Старк, простите – бормочет Питер, крепко сжимая руку Тони,- Я вас подвел.

- Нет, паучок, ты отлично справился, просто супер – мотает головой Старк, судорожно гладя мальчика по щеке. Питер улыбается расслабленно, и весь страх казалось бы исчезает с его лица.

Тони держит паучка на руках, пока тот распадается на атомы, держит, пока тот окончательно не превращается в пыль, даже тогда баюкая его на руках. В голове все еще звенит звонкое «мистер старк», но руки больше не ощущают тепла юношеского тела. Питера Паркера больше нет.

[carlosmydevil-blog]

Tiberius Blackthorn is a gift from the universe .

[schizo-saurus]

I got myself something for Christmas

It's medication withdrawals

[the-idiot-under-your-bed]

"We need you, Cas. I need you"