abby, 23, you can just kinda do whatever as far as pronouns are concerned. @gildedtragedies on ao3. multifandom in theory, hunger games fanblog in practice. angsty fanfic is my bread and butter. super obsessed with career tribute headcanons; not very great at coming up with my own. feel free to send messages, asks, headcanons, and fic requests! i don't bite (much)! if you need a conversation starter ask about my pets. also if you are only here for fandom block "#abby's feral liveblog" because i never shut up. pfp creds: @transrevolutions
hey friends!! i’ve been away for a while—life got pretty overwhelming from january to about a week ago. my wife was in the hospital (she’s doing much better now, thankfully!), and we finally closed the distance and got her moved in, which was exactly as chaotic as it sounds. and now we're renovating the house! between everything, i had to lock in and focus on all the big stuff.
i’ve missed this place and my moots so much. thank you if you’re still here. i hope you’re all doing okay, and i’m looking forward to catching up (very slowly, like a sleepy snail). sending lots of love 💛
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hey guys so sorry for the inactivity i was GETTING MARRIED???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
i am positive i have a the 100 mutual and i cannot for the life of me remember who. i am summoning you with echolocation rn. i watched the first two episodes last night and i think i am obsessed
currently playing full code medical simulator with my nanny kid. is she gonna be a doctor one day or am i traumatizing her for life? the world may never know.
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WOOOOOO i have been looking for an excuse to share snippets here we go (these are unedited bear with me)
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👹:
Claudius blinks, processing the absurdity of this whole situation as a slow grin spreads across his face.
“Wait. You did all of this because you couldn’t send a text?”
“I didn’t know how to word it!” Petra protests, but he can barely hear her over the sound of his own laughter. He starts to catch his breath, but one glance at her puffed-up cheeks sends him spiraling all over again.
“Stop laughing! I should’ve let you die when you had bronchitis.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being around anyone who sucks at this worse than I do.”
Claudius finally manages to calm down, wiping the tears from his eyes while Petra sits there glowering and looking like she might just use him for target practice after all.
“This is all Dash’s fault.” Petra says. “I’m never taking advice from a Four again.”
“So, same time next week?”
“Not even in your wildest dreams.” Petra slides her textbook into her bag and stuffs the flashcards into the front pocket. She turns to face him, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and fond exasperation. “I’m gonna go make out with Selene and try to forget that you exist.”
She walks off before he can come up with anything clever. He shakes his head, muttering, “What the fuck, Petra,” under his breath as she closes the door behind her.
With a groan, he heaves himself out of bed, rubbing at his eyes as he stumbles into the living room. Petra’s sprawled on his couch, one arm dangling off the side and a puddle of drool darkening the fabric beneath her face. It’s a miracle anyone can fall asleep to the sounds of the Village’s new inhabitants—Mating? Fighting? He doesn’t care. The only sound he wants to hear from those damn ostriches is the sizzle of them roasting over an open fire.
He risks a glance out the window and immediately regrets it. Add that to the ever-growing list.
“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Brutus mutters, throwing open the front door.
It’s worse than he imagined. They’re not mating. They’re not fighting. No, they’re racing.
The first emotion he feels is betrayal, because gathered in a circle, cheering and placing bets, are all the people who should know better—his own mentor, two of his Victors. He’s seriously considering throttling Devon and Artemisia with his bare hands when Petra stirs behind him.
She sits up in a daze, wiping the drool from her cheek with the collar of her pajama shirt and snatching her cane from the back of the couch.
“Did I miss the race?” she asks, rising to her feet with a wince that Brutus respectfully ignores. “I had money on Plutarch Feathersbee.”
Brutus stares at her, words failing him for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, with the weariness of a man who has seen too much, he exhales.
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thank you for the ask!! i actually figured out exactly where i'm going with this one thanks to you :)
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It’s not a huge deal, really, or at least it’s not supposed to be. Everyone knows the Victor talents are just for show, but Annie doesn’t want to put on a show. She’s given them enough of one already.
[She sees the tabloids. They’re not pretty. If she has to pick a talent, it might as well be something real—something that’s hers.]
“I’ve got plenty of talents.” Annie says, grinning as she stabs her fork into one of Mags’ seashell-shaped pancakes. “Maybe they can film me hot-wiring a skiff.”
She glances up to find Mags watching her, eyes twinkling with scarcely-concealed amusement. It’s the same look her parents used to give her when she swore as a kid—half disapproval, half trying not to laugh.
Mags finally gives up on the stern mentor face and chuckles under her breath. “Like I said, girl. You’ve got time.”
las reglas: send me an emoji and i'll write a couple sentences for the corresponding wip
👹: petra/selene/claudius fic of a fic that started as a joke and is now a multi-chapter endeavor (@lorata and @xanify thanks for letting me borrow your ocs <3)
🐌: annie cresta week: belated day one ft carnivorous sea snails
🎱: the remaining victors gather to decide a new panem's fate
🦩: district two victors' village ostrich farm au also ft. lorata's murder monsters
tagging: i think all my mutuals got to this before i did but if you have not, consider yourself tagged :)
"Only got one oar," Annie said. "We'd be running back and forth across the skiff with it, we'd never get anywhere."
"We'll just drift it."
"Tide's going out, not in."
The three girls fell silent.
Annie stared at the fire, then pushed herself to her feet. "I'll take care of it."
"How?"
"Gonna hotwire it."
"You are not," Jocelyn said, scrambling out of the blankets and nearly stumbling into the fire. Delfin caught her.
"Bring the lantern," Annie said.
"You don't know how to hotwire anything," Jocelyn said as they carefully picked their way down the cliff back to the boat. "We'd be better off trying to paddle with a log or something."
Jocelyn was Annie's best friend, but Annie still hadn't told her what she and Alexander had done last week. Annie had dared him that he wouldn't be able to drive a car, because driving a boat didn't translate, so Alexander had snuck into the garage at the Academy at two in the morning, hotwired one of the cars, and driven it to her house. Annie had shooed him off before her brother could wake up, but the car had stalled out and he'd showed her how he'd done it before he left. Annie had a good memory.
"I'll figure it out," Annie said, jumping up onto the bow of the boat and climbing into the back. Jocelyn followed her with the lantern as Delfin came down the cliff, holding the pile of blankets and a flaming stick as a torch. Annie was bent over the ignition, prying the cover off with her knife and starting to pull wires out.
"You're out of your mind," Jocelyn said.
"My brother's going to kill me if I'm not back by ten," Annie said, "and especially if I'm not back with his skiff."
Her brother was proud of his skiff. It barely floated, the bilge pump didn't work, and he was siphoning gas off any number of Peacekeeper yachts for it, but he loved it. If Annie was late, the worst that would happen was she'd get a stern talking to and he'd make her do the dishes for a couple days. If Annie was late with the boat, there was a real possibility she'd get put on lockdown, and she'd already made plans for the weekend.
"If you come back without the key, won't he be angrier?" Delfin asked, throwing the stick overboard.
"He'll be proud," Annie said, and started twisting wires together. She carefully stared at the wires. A skiff wasn't the same as a car, but the different colors had to mean the same thing, and she thought she'd isolated the starter wire.
She finished twining them together.
"Now what?" Jocelyn asked.
"If I touch this one to those," Annie said, "then it should just -"
She carefully touched the wire she thought was the starter wire to the others, and with what sounded like a reluctant cough, the engine sputtered to life.
"Holy shit," Jocelyn said, her head snapping to stare at the outboard.
"Wow," Delfin said.
"Let's just get out of here," Annie muttered. She'd thought her brother would be proud. She hoped he would be, and that he wouldn't kill her on sight.
Jocelyn sat down on the locker. Delfin shooed her off, then started refolding the blankets to put away. There was a clatter as something fell to the bottom of the boat.
"Ah," Annie said, staring at the key from where it'd fallen out of the blankets.
There was a long silence.
"I'll push the boat out," Delfin said, but Annie saw her biting her cheek to keep in a smile as she turned away.
full of weird restless energy today and i can't decide if it's the kind of restless i should project into my writing or if i should go to the workout room and hit things with my new weapons
update: the machete WORKS! she is brilliant! i am no longer restless physically and now it's time to write away the rest of it!
also my father VERY CASUALLY just gave me his old sword? his HANDMADE sword? she's old and needs to be oiled, sharpened, and probably sanded but my dad and i are roundabout the same height and weight and have similar reach. and my dad is gonna make me a sword to my specs for christmas???
full of weird restless energy today and i can't decide if it's the kind of restless i should project into my writing or if i should go to the workout room and hit things with my new weapons
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If you're seriously depressed and go about your day being brooding and melancholic as shit maybe you should put the mitski and hozier aside and put on some sir mix-a-lot for a change
