tables for top 4!
Apr 7, 2024 11:51:41 GMT -5
Post by dars on Apr 7, 2024 11:51:41 GMT -5
congrats to our wonderful top four <3
i make simple table 4 u all, don't have to use if u don't want
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The thought that, eventually, one of these children's names would be called at the Reaping was not lost on Penelope Goravich. For such a large portion of her life, she'd been convinced it would be her own, or her sister's. She remembered being ten years old, just two years too young for her name to be thrown into the mix, and watching in horror as Eden Turner was felled just as soon as the 75th Hunger Games began.
It was one of those moments she incidentally defined her life around: a sort of before and after. Up until that point, the idea of someone like Penelope or Daisy being reaped despite being so... protected, so loved was such a nebulous thing to consider that she couldn't really wrap her still-developing mind around it.
After, her father's fairytales started to feel a bit silly. She knew the truth now: there were no dragons to be slain, or princesses trapped in towers, or fair and just rulers of the land. There were no lessons to be learned from something as cruel as an arena, not ones that could be told to children as bedtime stories. There was killing, surviving, and regret, or there was trying and dying anyway. And now, roughly mid-way through her thirties, she yearned for the time when her life wasn't centered around the fear of children dying.
[div align="center"][div style="width:400px;"][div style="background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/bgaAf05.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-color:#000000;border-color:#ffffff;"][blockquote][blockquote][div align="justify"]
[font face="times new roman" size="1" color="f3c83e"]text here!
[/font][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]LAIN 🍽 1M | Mattio
The thought that, eventually, one of these children's names would be called at the Reaping was not lost on Penelope Goravich. For such a large portion of her life, she'd been convinced it would be her own, or her sister's. She remembered being ten years old, just two years too young for her name to be thrown into the mix, and watching in horror as Eden Turner was felled just as soon as the 75th Hunger Games began.
It was one of those moments she incidentally defined her life around: a sort of before and after. Up until that point, the idea of someone like Penelope or Daisy being reaped despite being so... protected, so loved was such a nebulous thing to consider that she couldn't really wrap her still-developing mind around it.
After, her father's fairytales started to feel a bit silly. She knew the truth now: there were no dragons to be slain, or princesses trapped in towers, or fair and just rulers of the land. There were no lessons to be learned from something as cruel as an arena, not ones that could be told to children as bedtime stories. There was killing, surviving, and regret, or there was trying and dying anyway. And now, roughly mid-way through her thirties, she yearned for the time when her life wasn't centered around the fear of children dying.
[div align="center"][div style="width:400px;"][div style="background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/vR3yXWI.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-color:#000000;border-color:#ffffff;"][blockquote][blockquote][div align="justify"]
[font color="fcdab6" size="1" face="times new roman"]text here
[/font][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]k!ah
The thought that, eventually, one of these children's names would be called at the Reaping was not lost on Penelope Goravich. For such a large portion of her life, she'd been convinced it would be her own, or her sister's. She remembered being ten years old, just two years too young for her name to be thrown into the mix, and watching in horror as Eden Turner was felled just as soon as the 75th Hunger Games began.
It was one of those moments she incidentally defined her life around: a sort of before and after. Up until that point, the idea of someone like Penelope or Daisy being reaped despite being so... protected, so loved was such a nebulous thing to consider that she couldn't really wrap her still-developing mind around it.
After, her father's fairytales started to feel a bit silly. She knew the truth now: there were no dragons to be slain, or princesses trapped in towers, or fair and just rulers of the land. There were no lessons to be learned from something as cruel as an arena, not ones that could be told to children as bedtime stories. There was killing, surviving, and regret, or there was trying and dying anyway. And now, roughly mid-way through her thirties, she yearned for the time when her life wasn't centered around the fear of children dying.
[div align="center"][div style="width:400px;"][div style="background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/nwAeoA3.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-color:#000000;border-color:#ffffff;"][blockquote][blockquote][div align="justify"]
[font face="times new roman" size="1" color="a7683c"]text here
[/font][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]pogue
The thought that, eventually, one of these children's names would be called at the Reaping was not lost on Penelope Goravich. For such a large portion of her life, she'd been convinced it would be her own, or her sister's. She remembered being ten years old, just two years too young for her name to be thrown into the mix, and watching in horror as Eden Turner was felled just as soon as the 75th Hunger Games began.
It was one of those moments she incidentally defined her life around: a sort of before and after. Up until that point, the idea of someone like Penelope or Daisy being reaped despite being so... protected, so loved was such a nebulous thing to consider that she couldn't really wrap her still-developing mind around it.
After, her father's fairytales started to feel a bit silly. She knew the truth now: there were no dragons to be slain, or princesses trapped in towers, or fair and just rulers of the land. There were no lessons to be learned from something as cruel as an arena, not ones that could be told to children as bedtime stories. There was killing, surviving, and regret, or there was trying and dying anyway. And now, roughly mid-way through her thirties, she yearned for the time when her life wasn't centered around the fear of children dying.
[div align="center"][div style="width:400px;"][div style="background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/2dUjYAk.png);background-repeat:no-repeat;background-color:#000000;border-color:#ffffff;"][blockquote][blockquote][div align="justify"]
[font size="1" color="cc9746" face="times new roman"]text here
[/font][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]Bella
