#During the movie it was 22 though

[magicalmyths]

Okay but if you went to the eras tour what would your bathroom song be?

[queenlawrenceskingdom]

I’m listening to the whole series on audiobook and then watching the movies, and tonight is Catching Fire. I think it’s been over five years since I’ve watched it. Other than disgracing us with a Gale kiss in the first five minutes, I forgot how much dialogue comes straight from the book. Francis Lawrence really was our saving grace

My inbox is open for discussion!

[northopalshore]

hiii Gaia <33

I have my asteroid union in my 5th house in pisces, what does that mean??

Hello!

I want to elaborate on this ask & just give the scenarios of meeting your future spouse through asteroid union (1585 ) in the natal chart. Where the 7th house ruler is in your chart will also tell you how you meet. You can still apply the contents of this post to that.

Asteroid Union in the Natal Chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Union (1585) is an asteroid used to interpret how you'll meet your future spouse. In this post, I'll be focused on how union will manifest in your meeting in the natal chart. Masterlist

In the houses

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 1st house

Something about it could be rather personal & by that, I mean you'll be interacting one on one quite often (or during) the time you meet them. You could just be doing something on a whim as well. Somewhere where the main point is you (can manifest in a multitude of ways).

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚2nd house

You could be purchasing something when you meet them. You could also be at the comfort of your own home or anywhere with some sort of purchasable service i.e mall, shopping websites, etc. Money or some sort of transaction is likely involved. Could also be on dating sites (if aspected w libra or leo) or on the internet, somewhere with their faces voice or even writing.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚3rd house

Online, talking, learning. Your mind is being active, your mouth is also playing a part lmao. Could be related to short trips or unexpected travels as well. Bookstores, libraries, internet & school (early education). You could just be a few months/days/hours into a language learning app for example and meet them on the app. Meeting at a conference, through siblings.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚4th house

You could be at the comfort of your own home. Your home town, something related to your mother or family members. Though, you could also meet during childhood or at a time where you're rather immature/young.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚5th house

You could be around children, at school or somewhere related to entertainment. You could be the one entertaining, or seeking entertainment in general i.e movies, carnivals, theatres, YouTube, TikTok, Instagram and whatnot. Meeting at concerts or celebrity related events even.

Ex: Ariana Grande has Union in Gemini (°22 Capricorn) in her natal 5th house. She met most of her partners through her career, or while they were working (including Dalton Gomez, he was working as her real estate agent), & usually also involves the arts (because she works w art & performances).

Looking at her 7th house ruler, it's in the 9th house in Libra w a Virgo degree. So everything tracks as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚6th house

Meeting at work, in your comfort zone. You could be going along with your regularly scheduled routine when you first meet them. You could start a casual relationship at first perhaps related to work or just someone you'll see quite often here & there. While receiving/providing health care.

Ex: Michael Jackson met Lisa Marie Presley at work & started off as friends. He met Debbie while visiting his regular doctor for his vitiligo.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚7th house

Meeting at work, on dating sites, while you're dating someone else, or even when signing into a new company. You could meet them during weddings as well. Providing a service, working with them. There is some sort of give & take here. You could be in a setting where you're one on one with them as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚8th house

You could be offering some sort of service. Since it's the opposite of the 2nd house (buying). It could also be related to something rather taboo or for something meant to be kept as a secret (surprises too). There is always something rather "controversial" around you & your spouse. Could be different religions for example.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚9th house

Teaching something. You could be teaching something or expanding your knowledge. It could be related to foreign things i.e religion, languages, geography or even philosophical knowledge/theory. Literally at university, or while pursuing higher studies/qualifications. Taking chances to broaden your horizons/reach.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚10th house

Meeting at work, when you're doing something big like a project that you're managing or getting a promotion. You could have been working in the same industry for a while before you met. You could meet in very public settings as well; dating shows

Ex: Zendaya has this placement. She met Tom Holland on set while they were working together. It just so happens that the characters they played as were love interests.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚11th house

You could meet them through mutual friends, or through online; communities, or fandoms or even just websites. Somewhere with electronics & technology; repair shops, car dealers, electronic dealers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚12th house

Meeting from a distance, blind dates, online, through church or religious communities. On a getaway, around supernatural phenomena or just spiritual related things. While getting medication or some sort of treatment .

Note:

If union is in retrograde, you may have been thinking of doing something for a while or may have an inkling towards that person before you actually interact. Either that, or you may not notice that they are the one at first.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

In the signs & degrees

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Aries (°1,°13,°25)

Doing something for yourself, focused on yourselves; doing what you want. Something about it may be quick, you may be acting towards it or initiating the interactions. You're likely the one to make the first move, whether intentionally or not. It may feel rather sudden as well, like you have to act now, or everything is pushing you together quickly. Attraction at first sight.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Taurus (°2,°14,°26)

Similar to the 2nd house, usually money or a certain service is involved. Could be related to your work, or your voice or your words i.e writing. There's something to be gained through your interaction here. There could be a friendly vibe when you first meet. You may keep a rather professional act at first.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Gemini (°3,°15,°27)

Language, communication, directions, fast movement. When you meet, it could be in a busy setting where people are on the go or talking to each other. Could be online, in a classroom, at a public service office. You're immediately comfortable around each other. Being able to talk about anything & everything.

Ex: I have a friend who has Union (°17 leo) in Gemini 1st house rising at °12 pisces. She met her boyfriend (soon to be financé) online while she was bored. She started doing lives & entertaining people (but mostly herself) on Tiktok & met him through there lol. He lives in a different state from her.

Looking at her 7th house ruler (Sagittarius) Jupiter in the 3rd house (Leo) in a Leo degree. Again, she was entertaining herself, having fun talking to a few people on her lives.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Cancer (°4,°16,°28)

Your partners may be the first to approach you. There may be an immediate connection as well. Meeting while you're young, you could choose to get together quite quickly as well. You could meet somewhere comfortable, where you're used to. They could be from the same place you come from or even where you work. A restaurant, house listings, estate sales, etc.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Leo (°5,°17,°29)

Meeting while entertaining people, or when seeking entertainment. Related to excitement, or literally on dating apps. Tiktok, Instagram, games, Tumblr etc. Where people come to connect and have fun. Nothing really serious is going on.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Virgo (°6,°18 )

This is also a sign of working with them, so you could either work in the same industry or just happen to work where they frequent or have business with. At a clinic, a hospital, the gym, anywhere related to your physical wellbeing. Somewhere you frequent.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Libra (°7,°19)

Working with them, or working for them. Similar to the 2nd & 7th house; there is something to be gained from both parties. Could be related to art, beauty, aesthetics, law, a concept, some sort of service that you provide. Just offering something.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Scorpio (°8,°20)

Meeting alone or privately. There's a chance that you're also looking for something or investigating something. Could be related to anything occult or secretive as well. You could be alone when you meet or at least have some time to be with each other one on one to some degree.

Ex: Cristiano Ronaldo has Union in Scorpio (°7 libra) in his 10th house. He met Georgina (his wife & longtime partner) while he was in a Gucci store, & she was working there then lmao. Their meeting is quite infamous too. Everyone was posting articles about it at the time.

Looking at his 7th house ruler (Cancer), it's in his 8th house (leo) at °10 Capricorn. They kept their relationship private for the most part, their dates & conversations were kept on the low. Again, he met her at a "professional" setting; she was working, he was a customer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Sagittarius (°9,°21)

Similar to the 9th House; through school, university or even religious cites. While travelling or at a place that's related to travel. Somewhere cultural even like museums or galleries. In a foreign country or a different state. While expanding something in your life like your knowledge, your possessions even.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Capricorn (°10,°22)

Meeting due to work, a public meeting. People knowing that you've met or people being nosey about the both of you when you meet. You could meet at a public setting as well. You could have a rather 'professional' front when you meet. They could be coming to you for advice or guidance as well.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Aquarius (°11,°23)

Meeting unexpectedly. While searching for something online, or while researching even. You could be curious about something, exploring something, doing something you've never really done before. There's immediately a mental connection, you feel that they match your interest.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Pisces (°12,°24)

Meeting online, unexpected meetings. Meeting through someone else, a third party. Meeting at foreign places, or doing something related to health or healing, hospitals, resorts, the ocean/any body of water. Through therapy. Somewhere with music or scenery or art. Concerts & music festivals are also possible.

Note: Remember. These are the circumstances of meeting your spouse/future partner. So there has to be an exchange of some sort i.e names, glances, conversations. It's not related to seeing them in dreams. It's MEETING them face to face whether virtually or physically.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧. ₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊

*** entertainment purposes only; reader discretion is advised***. /)/) (\(\

Thank you for reading ♡. ( . .) (. . )

@northopalshore

@northopalshore union asteroid 2024

[romaritimeharbor]

FAMILY, OF SORTS. — in which kafka, blade, and silver wolf are an odd but quite special found family to be a part of.

— trigger & content warnings. mentions of unspecified injury.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. kafka & teen!reader, blade & teen!reader, silver wolf & teen!reader. 1.3k words. reader is a stellaron hunter. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used).

— author's notes. the sillies <3 APHE POSTING???? APHELION POSTING REAL AND TRUE????????? i had a request for this on my old blog (from my dear beloved moot @starryshinyskies <3) so i decided to finish it 💪 nd tagging @www-brontide since i know you were excited for this post HEHE anyways how are we feeling about this formatting? if you guys don't like it i'm very open to changing it back. i'm just experimenting with my post format is all 🫶

kafka seems strangely motherly to me. caring and doting in her own unique ways, but also quite strange and odd in those same ways. an enigma of sorts.

she is the kind of person to always send the stellaron hunters' youngest member texts throughout the day; these texts range anywhere from silly and inconsequential to sweet messages letting [name] know that she was thinking about them.

(her doting nature is not dissimilar to how she thinks of and regards the trailblazer... hm.)

KAFKA

My coat got stained again :(

Won't you help me clean it when you get home, little one?

[ 1:22 PM ]

KAFKA

I saw a new movie today.

It made me think of you. It was quite to your tastes.

Perhaps we should go see it together sometime, hm?

Ah, but you're probably asleep by now...

That's fine. You do need it more than the rest of us.

Sleep well, darling.

[ 11:34 PM ]

she thinks of her little one quite frequently and has been known to pick up little trinkets from different planets that reminded her of them. a phone charm, a set of rings, something more practical like a new weapon... she once returned with a nice coat that matches one of hers. her gifts are always unpredictable but nonetheless very thoughtful.

and when or if they get injured, she is the one who treats their wound(s) with a tender hand.

she does chide them, however.

"you are a stellaron hunter, little one," she reminds, pulling the bandages wrapped around their wound a little tighter, making them wince. it is akin to a slap on the wrist—not enough pain to seriously harm them, but enough to force them to take her words to heart. "if it is not a part of the plan, try your best not to get caught or injured, hm? silver wolf doesn't like to see you this way, and it causes a unique stir in bladie. your getting injured causes quite the unrest among us all! do be more careful next time."

if there is ever a night during which they are struggling to sleep, they are more than welcome to seek out kafka's company.

she would be willing to read them to sleep, if that is what they desired.

however... a far easier method that would ensure they would stay asleep? her spirit whisper ability, of course.

they know kafka would not use it to harm them.

kafka finds their earnest trust beyond endearing. the trust of a little one like them is quite an important gift! the least she can do, she thinks, is assist them when her assistance is needed.

and sometimes, that just means lulling them to sleep.

blade is quite a difficult person to read, regardless of whether he intends to be so or not.

some days, he is distant and prefers to keep to himself. others, less so.

this, though, should not be mistaken for a lack of care. in fact, he cares quite deeply. his care is simply very quiet and he desperately, earnestly, truly does not wish to cause [name] harm.

he is also most likely the one who spars with them and trains them in the ways of combat, which... he isn't exactly the gentlest at doing. training sessions can be quite frustrating in that they often emerge sore and with new cuts and bruises (but really, these injuries are small and insignificant; they are confident in saying that blade would never truly hurt them, nobody in their family would). he does mean well in his tough methods, though.

the universe is not kind or gentle. it will never treat them that way. therefore, he does his best to prepare them so that they can effectively handle the universe's cruelty and defend themselves from it.

one of the ways in which his quiet care manifests is through his treatment of the small wounds he gives them during training. kafka has said many times that she can treat them, but blade always insists on doing it himself.

out of all of their coworkers, blade becomes the most restless when they're away. he gets particularly antsy when they've been gone for a long period or when they're out there alone. kafka always giggles and points out to him how utterly restless he becomes when such circumstances occur.

(he should be assured that they can handle themselves, given that he is their mentor—there is surely nobody else who would know their skills as well as he would—but somehow he simply isn't.)

blade is also, generally speaking, the most protective.

should they come back injured... if it is anything other than a shallow scratch on the cheek, a rage hotter than the brightest star burns under his skin. in those moments, he almost does not dare to touch them, for fear that he might harm them unwittingly... but he does. his hands are somewhat rough when he snatches their face and tilts their chin around to get a better look at the blood (is it theirs? he hopes not) and grime dirtying their face. there is a terrifying threat present in his voice when he demands, not asks, "who did this to you?"

(if kafka was not present in these moments, he might worry that his mara would get the best of him. thankfully, kafka is intentional and present in such situations.)

unless the ones responsible for the wound have already been adequately... taken care of, he will do so himself. there is nowhere in the universe that the perpetrators could hide from him.

it's about protecting them, but it is also about sending a message.

something along the lines of "anyone who lays hands on them will suffer a fate worse than death," perhaps.

death is anything but a terrible fate to blade, but he knows that it is the worst imaginable to some. he will be certain to deliver something infinitely worse, something beyond imagination, to those daring to hurt his younger teammate.

silver wolf is perhaps the least enigmatic of their little family. she isn't an open book, per se, but she's easier to read than kafka or blade... at least, for someone like [name], anyway.

she never fails to harrass them to play a few rounds (which tends to spiral into many, many rounds...) of a game or two with her. why them, specifically? she insists that blade isn't good at them and kafka is kafka. really, it may very well just be that she enjoys spending time with them, but she—of course—will not simply say that.

however... she bullies them terribly about how bad they are. it comes from a place of affection!

she is also the type to win them every single prize at carnivals, just because she likes the joy it seems to bring them. when she encounters rigged games, however, she becomes all the more motivated by her unadulterated annoyance to beat them.

what do you mean she of all people can't beat this awful and horrible rigged game? her???? the silver wolf????? seriously????????

unfortunately, it does not always end in her victory, even when she is infinitely motivated by her anger.

...and she really isn't above just taking one of the prizes when the stall's owner isn't looking. she has done so multiple times for [name].

she would definitely try to teach them hacking (keyword: try) if they aren't already familiar with it. since it has come in handy for her, she figures that they might also find use in it. it's her quiet way of looking out for them.

(her more obvious way of looking out for them is often seen when she is on missions with them. most commonly, it manifests as her snatching their arm and pulling them out of the way of an enemy before obliterating said threat.)

silver wolf is totally the sort of person to pinch their cheeks (to different degrees, kafka and blade also do this!). they are very cute to her.

overall they are a weird but very special little family to be a part of <3

please consider supporting your writers by reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment. it really helps me out!

[cheoliehansolie]

Lip Balm

Summary: You and Seungcheol spend the day together in your apartment and he notices your not so subtle obsession with lip balm.

Word Count: ~1.7 k

Pairing: gn reader x Seungcheol

Warnings: none, but just know that lip balm is written a total of 22 times 🫠

an: If you like reading this, make sure to reblog! If you have any suggestions or you just want to talk, send me an ask 💕

To read more, check out my masterlist

---

You and Seungcheol had been dating for a few months and one thing Seungcheol noticed about you is the fact that you kept lip balm with you at all times. He had grown accustomed to seeing you pull lip balm out of your backpack during lectures or while you were studying at the library. It seemed as though there was never a moment where you weren’t wearing lip balm.

The first time he noticed was when the two of you were sitting next to each other during class taking notes. He saw you rummaging through your backpack out of the corner of his eye. Distracted, he turned to look at what you were doing and he saw you applying lip balm to your soft, plush lips. It’s safe to say that for the rest of the lecture, Seungcheol was barely paying attention to the professor, instead choosing to take not so subtle glances at your lips every few minutes.

When you and Seungcheol went on your first date, he had taken you to a cafe on campus. The two of you had been friends for a few weeks before he asked you out, so he knew there wouldn’t be any awkward small talk, but Jeonghan had convinced him to do something simple and short for the first date just in case.

The two of you had finished your drinks and pastries but were having too much fun talking to each other to leave. Seungcheol was going on a tangent about how his roommates, Jeonghan and Joshua, were constantly teaming up to terrorize him. While nodding your head to show him you were listening, you opened your purse and grabbed your lip balm. You returned your gaze to your date and, while maintaining eye contact, applied lip balm to your lips.

It took every ounce of self control for Seungcheol to not lean across the table separating the two of you and place a kiss on your lips when you finished rubbing your lips together. 

Fast forward to today when Seungcheol came over to your apartment for the first time. Normally the two of you would go to Seungcheol’s place after classes since It's closer to campus, but since today’s a Friday Seungcheol decided to sleep over at your place. 

You and Seungcheol are cuddling on your couch watching a movie when Seungcheol loosens his grip around your shoulder and scoots away from you. You pout at him when you realize he’s trying to get up.

“Baby, don’t look at me like that. I’m just getting a glass of water and I’ll be right back.” he pouts back at you.

“Fine, but you better be back quickly.” you say as you untangle your limbs from him to let him get up.

Seungcheol can’t help but lean over and give you a quick kiss on your still pouting lips. You just look so cute sitting there looking up at him through your lashes with the cutest pout on your lips. The two of you can’t help it when you break away from the kiss and give each other the most love struck smiles.

Seungcheol makes his way to your kitchen and he wanders around, opening random cabinets to find where you keep the glasses. Could he ask you where you kept the glasses and would you immediately come help him find where they are? Yes, but you looked so comfy wrapped up in your blanket on the couch and Seungcheol couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

Luckily, he was able to locate the glasses on his second try and quickly poured himself a drink so he could return to the warm embrace of your arms as soon as possible. While he was chugging his water, he noticed a small pink tube on the corner of your kitchen counter. He sets his glass in the sink and looks closer at the small tube and he realizes it’s a tube of lip balm. 

Seungcheol slowly makes his way back to the living room where you’re (not) patiently waiting for him. He sees you returning a small tube, similar to the one he saw in the kitchen except this one cream in color, to the end table next to you. 

He smiles when you two are snuggled together on the couch again and the movie continues playing. He begins to wonder why you have random tubes of lip balm scattered around your apartment and he makes a mental tally of how many he’s seen thus far. Even if they don’t mean anything, it’ll be fun to tease you about your lip balm obsession.

–

A few hours later, you and Seungcheol are getting ready for bed. The two of you had spent the rest of the evening snuggling while watching movies, getting a few assignments done, and eating snacks together. Now you were in your bathroom doing your skin care while Seungcheol waits for you in bed, teeth brushed and ready to spend the rest of the night snuggling while you show him TikToks that you had bookmarked to show him tonight.

Seungcheol’s alone with his thoughts while he waits for you to join him in bed, and he starts reviewing how many tubes of lip balm he saw scattered around your apartment. It was honestly like a fun scavenger hunt for him to be able to see where you’ve placed them. He saw the one on your kitchen counter and the one on your end table while you were watching the movie, he saw one on your desk when the two of you decided to be at least a little productive and get some work done, he saw one in your medicine cabinet behind your mirror in the bathroom, and there’s one on your night stand. 

That makes for a total of five tubes of lip balm placed in seemingly random places around your pretty small apartment. Not to mention the lip balms he knows you have in your backpack and all of your purses. By the time Seungcheol finishes tallying all the lip balms around your apartment, you emerge from the bathroom ready for bed. 

While you get situated on your side of the bed, Seungcheol decides that now would be a good time to ask you about your lip balm obsession.

“Babe, I have a random question.” he says, waiting for you to acknowledge him while you get comfy under the blanket.

“What’s your question, Cheolie?” you ask, looking sweetly into his eyes.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you have tubes of lip balm in random places around your apartment. Is there a reason, or are you just so obsessed with lip balm that they’re part of your decor now?” he asks jokingly.

“Oh, those? I put them there so I can use them whenever I want. I like having lip balm on my lips so I don’t pick at the dry skin on my lips. It’s something I do when I’m anxious, but if I have hydrated lips, there’s nothing to pick at. Plus, even if I do have dry lips, I hate touching my lips when they have product on them.” 

“Why don’t you just put one in your pocket instead of having five around the house?”

“First of all, bold of you to assume my clothes have pockets deep enough to fit a tube of lip balm, that is if they have pockets in general. Second of all, I’m more likely to lose it if I take it everywhere with me. Knowing me I would leave it on a random table or it would fall out of my pocket and I would have no idea where it went.”

“You actually put a lot of thought into this. I thought you just kept them there for no reason.”

“Well, I just put them in places where I know I’ll want to use lip balm. But it’s also kinda for fun because I like the way they smell and I’ve been consistently wearing lip balm for so long now that it feels weird to not have anything on my lips.” you say.

Seungcheol smiles to himself as he listens to you explain. He loves listening to you talk, and he could listen to your voice for hours. But a sudden thought comes to his head and he smirks to himself as he himself is astounded by his brilliance.

“What flavor is the lip balm you’re wearing now? Can I try it?” he asks completely innocently where you don’t even realize what he’s planning.

“Yeah, I think it’s strawberry? Or maybe it’s cherry? I can’t tell. Here, let me grab it for you.” you say as you're about to turn to reach over to your nightstand to grab the lip balm that lives there.

Before you can turn your face away from Seungcheol, he grabs your arm and says, “It’s fine, I’d rather take it from here.”

Before you can fully process what he means, you feel his lips on yours and your stomach erupts with butterflies. This isn’t the first time that you’ve kissed, but you definitely were not expecting him to kiss you at this moment. His lips are soft against your own and the kiss is gentle. 

A few seconds later, you pull away from each other and Seungcheol says, “Definitely cherry.”

You feel heat rush to your face as you’re shy and flustered by his actions. Seungcheol laughs at your flustered state and you can’t help but reach over and smack him in the arm.

“What? You’re so cute when you get shy. Besides, you’re the one who said you like having things on your lips, so why not mine?” Seungcheol says, offended that you would hit your loving boyfriend who would do anything for you.

“Whatever.” you grumble as you try to calm your racing heart.

“I know you love me!” Seungcheol exclaims as he drapes his body over you, almost squishing you into a pancake.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics as you struggle under him.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do love you.” you say as the two of you burst into a fit of laughter.

[ghostf4cesbitch]

shower sex with ethan 🤞🏼

anon ur a genius

sorry this took forever, i had some problems with my job that were taking my attention but all good now :p

warnings: 18+ minors dni, degradation, praise, unprotected p in v (1+1 should not equal 3 wrap b4 you tap), oral (male receiving), swearing, not proofread

the tv in your living room drones on, still playing the end credits of 22 jump street, as you dispose of the small mess that's been made. you invited your friends over for a movie night, a successful one in your opinion. chad had a pen you were all taking hits off of, only making the movie that much funnier.

and your boyfriend that much hornier.

of course ethan gets horny when he smokes, the boy gets it up as soon as he sees a mere sliver of your stomach.

he was the only one left with you in the apartment now, residing in the kitchen and washing the dishes from tonight. like the plate you'd used for mozzarella sticks.

ethan had snuck up on you while you were putting them in the oven, nearly giving you a heart attack after sneaking up and slipping a hand under your shirt and up your back.

you'd turned around to chastise him but he didn't give you a chance, pressing his lips on yours before you could say anything. it was a needy kiss, and that didn't surprise you. his hands were over you all evening. nothing too PDA, he was just always touching you no matter what you guys were doing. his leg laced under yours while playing a game, or his fingers moving up and down your thigh during the movie.

you nearly get wet again just thinking about it. it's so hot how he just can't help himself when it comes to you.

ethan comes into the room as you're throwing away the last of the trash. he's got on some sweatpants and a muscle tank, which you know he knows you love to see him in.

"can we go lay down now?" he asks.

"i just gotta shower real quick and then we can," you say, walking past him towards the bathroom and pecking a kiss on his cheek as you do so.

he groans, whining like a child as he says, "can't you shower tomorrow?"

he follows you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as you wipe your makeup off.

"i could, but i don't want to." you say. "i've got that presentation early tomorrow and i don't wanna have to worry about it."

ethan merely hums in response.

you can see him in the mirror, though, and he doesn't look like he heard anything you said. his eyes are fixated on your backside, trailing down to your ass and up to any skin being exposed by your tank top. feeling his gaze on you so intensely sends a shiver down your spine.

you walk over to the tub, turn on the shower (maybe bending over just a little more than necessary on purpose), then make your way back over to your boyfriend who's still leaning in the doorway and hasn't taken his eyes off you once.

his focus follows your hands as you ghost your fingers along his stomach, playing with the hem of his shirt. you look up at each other at the same time, and you don't even have to say what you were thinking because ethan's already reaching forward and slipping your shirt over your head. you do the same to his, and then your lips are pressed together and you're undoing his belt as he unclasps your bra.

you take a couple cautious steps backward towards the shower, ethan following each one. you rip his pants down and he does the same to your shorts.

he takes a pause to rake his eyes over your body, his breath getting caught in his throat because every time is like the first time when it comes to you.

"so pretty, angel," he praises, kissing you again.

prying fingers are slipping into your underwear, one of them running along your slit before the fabric's ripped down your legs. after stepping out of them completely, you kiss ethan one more time before slipping into the shower.

the sound of his boxers being pulled down is frantic, just like the way he rips the curtain to the side to join you. his hands are back on your hips as soon as he's in, pulling you in to kiss him again.

your hands trail down his chest to his dick that's already hard on your palm. ethan sucks in a breath that lets out in a groan when you run your thumb over his tip.

"shit," he hisses through his teeth.

he's been waiting for your touch all goddamn day. and god was it worth it - the feeling of your dainty little hand wrapped around his cock was sending a heat all throughout his body not even the cool water hitting his back could extinguish.

"on your knees," he spits out at the same time his hand comes to rest on your shoulder to push you to the ground.

you sink to the floor, knees making a small splash in the puddle below you. ethan's hand comes up to tangle itself in your hair, a little water from his wrist dripping down your face.

you look up at your boyfriend, soaking wet and breathing heavily with a sexed-up look in his eyes, and relish in the fact that you're the only one who's ever seen him like this. that you're the only one he would ever want wrapping their lips around the tip of his leaking hard on.

his eyes roll back into his head as you do so, his grip on your hair tightening. you play on the tip with your tongue a little before sliding slowly further down, licking a flat strip along the underside as you do so.

"good," ethan coos. "just like that, angel."

you continue your slow progression towards his base, reaching a hand up to jerk what isn't in your mouth. you see his leg shake a little and it sends heat through your own body, knowing how good you're making him feel. not that he's not telling you enough with the sounds he's making. the desperate little whimpers leaving his mouth are a heat source all on their own.

a moan echoes in your throat and around him, earning a downright guttural one from ethan. he can't help it anymore, he pushes your head onto him fully, tapping your cheek with his other hand while he laughs at you.

"you like that, y/n?" he asks as he guides you up and down on his length. "i know what a fucking cockwhore you are, how much you love it filling up any one of your holes."

you look up and moan around him, trying to tell him that yeah, you do love it. he seems to take the hint, smirking as he pats your cheek again.

"i know, baby, i know."

he's fucking your face now, holding your head still as he does most of the work for you. your throat is hot and you can feel him throbbing on your tongue. you swear you can feel him about to cum when he pulls out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip.

ethan nearly loses his mind at the view. he bites his lip as he helps you stand up, his eyes never flickering away from the lovely sight before him. your dick-swollen lips, wet from spit and the tears streaming down your face, and god your eyes - your pleading eyes that always let him see right through you, see just how badly you needed him.

"fucked out already, doll?" he knows the answer, but you still shake your head eagerly. "good."

quickly, he maneuvers your body so your back is pressed up against him - his tip grazing your skin before he takes himself in his hand to line it up at your entrance.

"wasn't done with you yet anyway," he growls as he pushes into you, the pressure against your walls making your back arch. ethan takes that to his advantage, grabbing your hair to pull you up even more. your hands are pressed against the shower wall for support even though you're sure he'd have no trouble holding you up with one hand.

"not 'till your pretty cunt's leaking for me," he says, giving a slap to your ass that makes you whine.

he's fucking you at a relentless pace, the wet noises coming from your pussy making that more than evident. ethan made a comment on them once, saying he loves when your pussy talks to him, tells him he's doing a good job. you nearly chuckle thinking about it, and how it's practically singing for him now.

he seems to read your mind, saying, "fuck listen to you. making those whore noises just for me. been waitin' to hear 'em all day."

then ethan's other hand is finding its way to your clit to rub feverish circles into it. immediately a hot knot is forming in your stomach.

"you drive me crazy, you know that? wearing those tiny shorts around for anyone to see. supposed to be mine."

"i - fuck- i am yours, e," you squeak out, your voice beyond shaky.

the pace of his hips is unforgiving as he snaps in and out of you, his fingers pressing harder into your clit. you're so close, and you know he is too - he always gets more chatty when he's getting ready to bust.

"yeah? wanna cum for me then? hm? come on, angel. coat my cock in your sweet cum, baby."

and that's all it takes for every muscle in your body to convulse as your high overcomes you and ethan's name to repeatedly slip through your lips in little whimpers. you can feel him twitch inside you, too, his hand that was previously on your clit coming to grab your hip so hard you're sure there'll be a bruise. he's making those sweet, guttural noises in your ear as he rides out his orgasm. god you could listen to them forever.

unfortunately, they eventually simmer down to heavy, ragged breaths much like yours. ethan kisses your head before pulling out slowly. you stay hunched over for a moment to regain your breath, feeling another kiss left on your neck as he wraps an arm around your chest to help you up.

"sweet girl," he mumbles into your hair, planting one more kiss on your head. "always so good for me."

you turn to face him, running a hand through his moppy locks.

"sweet boy," you repeat. "always so good to me."

he smiles and grabs a loofa, holding it up to you.

"want me to clean you up?"

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 22

Steven grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley + omegaverse

This is written in headcanon format, since I wanted to write about all three but couldn’t think of a way to involve all of them beside headcanons.

on the shorter side, but im still learning how to write omegaverse.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Omega, but not the stereotypical omega. Hes fine taking care of himself, and isn’t weak or easily ordered around. Steven just likes to avoid conflicts, Marc and Jake wont back down from conflicts though.

Steven is an omega, so is Marc, but Jake is an alpha.

Physical body is omega, so even when Jake is fronting their body is still an omega, but Jake is immune to things like other alphas scent or when someone tries to scruff him or force him to submit.

Marc is mostly immune too, only buckling to you, his mate, but that’s because hes chosen to do so cuz he loves you.

Steven does enjoy making a nest in their bed, or wearing your clothes to cover himself in your scent. Marc doesn’t really make nests as a trauma response, and because he doesn’t feel as much of a need for it as Steven, he will bundle up some blankets though if he really needs it.

Steven’s scent is sweeter and milder than the other two, as I imagine their scent changes depending on who is fronting. The core smell is the same, but smaller changes happens so you can easily tell them apart, where others might struggle to do so.

Since their physical body is of an omega, they go into heat, but they tend to leave that to Steven since hes the only one who doesn’t despise it with his entire being.

Being in heat is uncomfortable of course, but Steven also enjoys it cuz it allows him to be taken care of by you and lets him put down his walls. None of them want pups though, so they always make sure to use protection.

Marc might front every now and then during heat when Steven is too exhausted, letting himself bask in his omega needs for a bit. Make sure to not treat him too stereotypically like an omega, he needs you to be rough and in charge, yes, but he will bite you if you try to scruff him or anything like that.

When Jake fronts during heats he just feels uncomfortable and very sweaty, so if he even does front, that’s when he showers and changes the sheets. That’s also when you can rest, as he just wants to cuddle and watch a movie or something.

Sex with them depends on who’s fronting. Steven likes to be taken with some power behind your thrusts, but he also loves slow and passionate lovemaking. Hes also the only one who liked being knotted, even if it won’t lead to pups.

Marc likes having some more power during, so he will ride you like a wild horse, growling and barring his teeth, making sure to scratch at your chest and leave hickeys all over.

Jake likes to do the fucking, be it bending you over the kitchen counter or up against the wall in the shower. He may not have a knot, but if you ever bought him a fake one to wear, he might bust right then and there as hed pounce on you immediately.

Your relationship would never lead to pups, as none of them want to get pregnant or would want you to carry. I just don’t think they’d be comfortable being parents, closest you’ll get is a pet, as they don’t wanna put an innocent kid in danger cuz of their night job.

This doesn’t mean your relationship is lacking anything though, as you guys find other things to find joy in, in your love life. It takes some time getting used too, but after a while it just becomes the norm, so no matter what others think you guys are happy.

[jessejaredstories]

Twisted Wish

Matthew was an average, everyday kind of guy from the suburbs. He was the 22 year old only child of happily married parents with middle class standing. He was also in his last year of college with a major in history. The only thing that helped set him apart was the fact that he was gay, but even his sexuality didn't really matter much in a big city full of twinks like him. All things considered, Matthew was a pretty ordinary guy with nothing particularly remarkable about him.

However, just because Matthew lived a normal life doesn't mean he didn't have his own set of problems. For example, he was 22 going on 23 and he was still a virgin who has never even had a real boyfriend. Sure, he had gone on plenty of first dates, but none of them ever went anywhere beyond the first date. It was the lack of romantic and sexual experience that made up Matthew's biggest insecurities. There were nights where he would stay up wondering if he would ever find Mr. Right. But what really made Matthew insecure was his roommate Dave. 

Dave was a player. He was a lady's man through and through. In the short year Matthew's known him, Dave had already gone through 3 girlfriends and was currently working on his fourth. But that was just the girls he's dated, Dave's had plenty of side chicks too. Everytime a new one popped up, Matthew already knew he was gonna get sexiled and made himself scarce without Dave asking him to. Despite how often it happened, Matthew honestly didn't mind Dave's horny habits. Though he would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Dave. If some frat bro like Dave could get laid anytime he wanted, why couldn't he? 

One Saturday night, while Matthew was by himself in the apartment, he spent the evening on his phone. He was endlessly scrolling through several social media sites while streaming some random movie for background noise. Matthew spent several hours online before finally getting tired of his phone. He began closing all the tabs, but during his clicking frenzy, he accidentally hit a pop-up ad. The pop-up took him to another website called "Reality Wizard." The ugly, gaudy colors of the website caught Matthew's interest just before he could exit out. Matthew took a moment to read the website’s welcome message. It read:

“Make a wish and the Reality Wizard will make it come true.”

From what Matthew could gather, the “Reality Wizard” seemed to be some online genie game. It seemed pretty straightforward albeit cheaply made. The little genie avatar had its arms open as if it was beckoning Matthew to make a wish. Something about its digital eyes made Matthew uncomfortable. He felt as if it was somehow looking directly at him despite it just being a static image on his phone. It was surreal to say the least. 

But instead of simply exiting out of the website, Matthew decided to play along with it. He didn’t have anything better to do after all, so why not play along and make a wish to a fake genie? Matthew laid back on his bed as he thought about what to wish for. Then after a minute of thinking, he typed in his wish.

“I wish I could get laid just as much as my straight roommate does.”

Matthew chuckled as he finished typing up his wish. While there was some actual sentiment behind it (he was a desperate virgin after all), Matthew found more humor in making the genie respond to something dirty and see what happens. He hit submit and waited. The screen reloaded after a second, but all that changed was the genie’s eyes were now closed. Matthew waited a while longer but nothing else happened. 

Once he was bored again, Matthew finally closed out of “Reality Wizard.” The night was still young when Matthew found himself alone with nothing else to do. That was when he decided to do what any other guy would do: jerk off! 

Matthew pulled down his sweats and let his soft dick flop out while he pulled up an incognito tab on his phone. He then went straight to PHub to find a good video to rub one out to. But unfortunately for Matthew, there was nothing worth clicking on on the home page. He then spent the next 10 or so minutes searching for a good video. By the time he found one, he had ended up in the MMF video category. Matthew didn’t mind a woman in his videos, he could just focus on the men after all. He hit play, skipped to the good part, and started jerking off.

Between Matthew and the trio in the video, moans and groans quickly began to fill the empty apartment as Matthew pumped away at his cock. Despite being a total bottom, Matthew still had an above average length clocking in at about 6 inches. Even though his dick never saw any fucking action, it still made jerking off fun as he used both hands to stroke himself. 

“Aww fuck yeah…” The trio had switched into a sandwich position with one of the men getting fucked while fucking the woman at the same time. Matthew was loving the man on man action. “Fuck that man ass! Make him your bitch!!”

While Matthew was jerking off, the wish he had just made to the “Reality Wizard” began to come true! But not in the way Matthew expected…

The genie’s magic began to take effect. Matthew was always a skinny twink, but the wish he made caused his body to change. His body was quickly gaining weight until Matthew had some heft to his figure. His arms and thighs filled in with the extra mass, as did his chest until he had big enough pecs to grab and squeeze. The same happened to his ass! Although he already had a nice, perky ass before the changes, Matthew now possessed the bubble butt of a gym rat. Even his cock and balls grew until he had an obscenely long and girthy member. His new dick was now 7.5 inches and hung low like a bull with how heavy his cum filled balls had become.

After the extra mass came the body hair. Matthew’s once perfectly smooth body began sprouting hair everywhere! His hair grew out until he had shoulder length curls like Tarzan. His face tingled as a full beard and mustache quickly grew in. His chest and midsection got covered with a fine layer of brown hair. Even his pit and pubic hair grew and grew until he had an unruly forest of hair in each area. By the time the transformation was finally over, Matthew had become an unrecognizable version of himself as he was now a testosterone-filled, hairy beast of a young man. 

But even though Matthew just went through a magical transformation, his mind was still focused entirely on jerking off to the video. The two men and one woman were still going hard at it in a line. The camera angles kept alternating between focusing on the two men and focusing on the woman getting fucked. Matt’s favorite was seeing the man’s cheeks getting clapped from behind. 

“Oh fuuuck I’m close..” 

Matt threw his head back against his pillow. He could feel the pressure building up in his throbbing cock as he was getting ready to shoot his load out. He picked up his stroking speed. He was getting sweaty and red in the face as he was getting closer and closer to finishing. 

Matt lifted his head again when he heard the woman begging for more. He kept his eyes focused on the video. The video had a wide shot which showed all three of them. Matt started with the two men, but as he kept stroking, he found his eyes unconsciously gravitating towards the woman. Matt wasn’t sure why he did that. He shifted his attention back to men, but found himself focusing back on the woman again within seconds. Suddenly, the woman was all Matt could focus on. Even if he tried to look away he just couldn’t! Even if he tried to imagine a hot man with a hung cock all Matt could picture was a woman with massive tits! Matt was panting at the sight of the woman’s tiddies bouncing up and down as she took a pounding. Her beautiful body was wet with sex sweat. Seeing her throw her head back as she let out a loud moan made Matthew tremble and twitch with anticipation. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to burst!

Matt let out a guttural groan as ropes of warm cum shot out of his engorged cock. His hairy chest became drenched with his spunk. Even by the time he finished shooting load after load, his dick was still twitched and throbbing with how much cum he shot out. Matt sighed with relief as he threw his arms back to cool down after such an intense jerk off session. His body hair was dripping with how drenched it was with sweat and cum. On top of that, the room now reeked of a man’s sweaty musk, but Matt didn’t care. He was satisfied and content. 

Once Matt finally caught his breath, it was time for him to clean up the sticky mess he just made. His initial instinct was to gather up all his cum with his fingers and then swallow it all, but Matt stopped when he realized how fucking gay that was. He had absolutely no interest in ever tasting cum. After all, why would a straight guy like Matt want to swallow cum? 

Matt went to the bathroom and cleaned the jizz off his body. He then went ahead and changed his bed sheets too due to dripping all over them. Once that was done, Matt stood in his bedroom. He then lifted his arm up, letting the wild bush of pit hair hang free as he took a deep sniff of himself. Matt could smell some musk, but decided it wasn’t anything some cologne couldn’t cover up. 

“Yo! Anyone home?” 

Matt’s ears perked up when he heard his roommate Dave call out. He then walked out and greeted his best bud by dabbing him up. Matt and Dave were brothers from different mothers and were known for their unbeatable bromance.

“Dave, my man! What are you doing home so early!? It’s barely midnight!”

“I know, bro, but check it, Darcy just invited me to go check out this new club downtown with her. It’s hella exclusive, you gotta come with us, Matt! I need my shotgun brother there if I’m gonna club all night!! Plus, Darcy’s got a friend. Brianna, I think you’ll like her…”

“She cute?” Matt asked with an eyebrow raised. Dave nodded. “Cup size?”

“Double D’s, AND she never wears a bra when she goes out! Trust me bro, you gotta meet her, I know for a fact y’all are perfect together!!”

Matt was convinced the moment he heard “D.” He was always a boobs over ass kinda guy after all. Matt quickly got dressed, then went out to have the best night of his life at the club with his bro Dave, ending with them tag teaming Darcy and Brianna in bed. All while Matt was completely oblivious to the fact that the Reality Wizard had granted his wish. Matt definitely got laid just like his straight roommate Dave, just like he wished, although he probably didn’t expect the online genie to twist his carelessly worded wish. Not that Matt really cared about his former self, after all, he had a girlfriend with two very big reasons why he should enjoy the new reality he wished for himself.

[gunsandspaceships]

Is Tony REALLY addicted to coffee?

The poll shows that the vast majority of fans (84%) believe that Tony cannot live without coffee.

Nope.

Let's see what he drinks.

Iron Man (2008):

0:11:55 and 1:14:25 - Mineral water Perrier (a lot in the fridge), Espresso machine and espresso cups in the lab. He used to drink a lot of espresso.

0:12:15 - espresso in the morning.

Deleted scene "Tony & Rhodey on Stark Jet" - coffee and juice in the morning.

0:12:15 and 0:26:55 - tea and water in the cave (not many options there).

0:54:20 - working on Mark 2 - coffee mug on his desk and 0:56:55 - a few days later - there are 2 coffee mugs (white and black) next to the desk.

0:57:25 - perhaps the next day, Pepper brought him another mug (though he has a coffee maker in his lab, and he probably poured the previous cups and mugs himself), and at 1:05:25 - the same mug, half full of black coffee. Tony did not touch it for quite a while.

1:06:15 - Smoothie: Begins (there's a full blender).

Conclusion for IM1: coffee seems to be his favorite drink, he has an espresso machine in his lab, drinks espresso or black coffee and juice in the morning, 2-3 mugs of black coffee during the day, smoothie in the evening, sometimes drinks mineral water. Had to drink tea in the cave.

Iron Man 2:

0:18:20 - U makes him smoothie (he tries). You can see Dr Pepper and mineral water in the fridge. The espresso machine is still there, but the cups are gone. Tony switched from coffee to chlorophyll.

0:23:45 - chlorophyll all day.

0:49:20 - chlorophyll.

1:01:40 - coffee with Nick in the morning.

1:07:05 - mineral water with Nick.

1:09:25 - tried to get more coffee but Coulson said no.

1:13:20 - drinks Dr Pepper with ice instead.

Conclusion for IM2: Tony had to drink chlorophyll to reduce symptoms of palladium poisoning. He stopped drinking espresso. Drank coffee occasionally and only from cafes. Started drinking soda (Dr Pepper). Also drank smoothies and mineral water.

The Avengers:

1:39:45 and 2:12:55 - no coffee machine in Tony's penthouse. But the blender is there. Tony drinks his smoothie.

2:22:20 - the team is drinking something, maybe coffee, maybe not.

Conclusion for The Avengers: Tony didn't drink coffee, even in the lab. We don't see a coffee machine in his penthouse. But he drinks a lot of smoothies (which we can tell by the presence of the blender).

P.S. If Marvel wanted to show that Tony drinks a lot of coffee, they would have shown us a coffee machine, not a blender with smoothies.

Iron Man 3:

0:10:50 - Tony is in a restaurant with Rhodey and drinking water.

0:21:05 - water with dinner.

0:45:05 - Tony asked Harley for a tuna sandwich, but didn't ask for coffee or anything else to drink. He could just drink water from a sink.

0:52:25 - most likely water. Again.

1:12:30 - energy drink? He'll need it.

Conclusion for IM3: no coffee. Seems like Tony is addicted to water though.

Age of Ultron:

0:16:50 - looks like old pal chlorophyll.

0:20:40 - Dr Pepper.

0:20:45 - the only time in the movie we see Tony drinking coffee (probably). In several scenes in the lab there is a black mug, but it is Bruce's (0:41:42).

1:08:58 and 1:14:09 - lemonade?

Conclusion for AoU: Tony drinks anything - smoothies, chlorophyll, soda, coffee, lemonade. We only saw him drink coffee once here. There's only a blender in his space, no mugs around in the lab (only Bruce's one).

Civil War:

0:29:15 - Tony washed down a pill with water from an electric kettle.

1:17:40 - Tony and May drink tea. He could have asked May to pour him coffee, but for some reason chose tea.

Conclusion for CW: very very strange. Tony drinks tea. And doesn't drink coffee.

Spider-Man Homecoming:

Only (probably) lemonade at 0:37:30.

Infinity War:

No drinks.

Endgame:

0:34:17 - maybe cold coffee, maybe something else.

0:39:35 - something in his bottle, impossible to say what. Probably not coffee.

1:02:19 - coffee from a cafe.

1:05:00 - there are 2 cups on the desk, most likely for Nat and Tony.

Conclusion for Endgame: coffee is back as a favorite drink it seems. After 15 years of smoothies and water.

So, no addiction. Tony can drink anything, even tea.

[asksythe]

Dead languages and maybe Wei Ying is long-lost royalty

Today I had a discussion with @pakhnokh​ regarding why Wei Wuxian didn’t know the deeper layer of meaning behind the Lan forehead band. It was a long discussion on Twitter, so I figured I should just make a post here and leave this information out for anyone who might find it useful. 

To start off: The reason why Wei Ying didn't know the deeper layer of meaning of the Lan forehead band was in the book. But it was written in a very opaque way, in one single throw-away line. In the book, when Wei Ying had to copy the Lan rules, he specifically complained that the rules were written in seal script. 

The Useless Ye Olde’ Script

Seal script is a script that predated traditional Mandarin. It was infamous for being needlessly complex and having dozens, if not hundreds different dialects and writing methods. Some forms of seal script were entirely different languages altogether. When Qin Shi Huang united ancient China, he burned a lot of books and forced people to adopt a standard way to write, thus cementing traditional Mandarin as a singular language that is still used today, 2000 years after. A way to visualize how complex seal script was, is that there were 22 different ways to write the word 'sword'.

That is how mind-bogglingly complex it was. And worse, it was the source of much conflict in ancient times. To explain it simply, it was supposed to be one language. But if people could not even agree on how to write the same word, then how could they agree on more important things and cease warring against each other? 

Language standardization was one of Qin Shi Huang’s greatest achievements, if not the greatest, as it laid the foundation for more peace and eventual unification in later dynasties. 

This topic was made into an Academy Award-nominated movie, Hero by Zhang Yimou in 2002. 

(the word ‘sword’ that Qin Shi Huang decided on, thus wiping out the other 20+ ways to write the same word) 

Dating Mo Dao Zu Shi in real history (or, Wei Ying might actually be long-lost royalty) 

In a very interesting turn of events, MXTX has confirmed in her latest interview in Subaru magazine, that the events of MDZS happened during Wei Jin, Southern and Northern Dynasties (commonly referred to as the Six Dynasties era by English-speaking historians, even though these two don’t perfectly line up).

Yes, the same Wei 魏 in Wei Ying 魏婴, Wei Wuxian 魏无羡.

So the events in MDZS took place in the era immediately after the fall of the Qin dynasty (caused by Qin Shi Huang’s death and his sons not being able to measure up). Therefore, Wei Ying’s generation is in a time after the language has standardized into a single form. 

The Lan rules, at least the first set and the meaning of the forehead band, were written about 500 years before Wei Ying’s generation, at the founding of House Lan. So that would put it squarely in the pre-Qin, pre-lingual-standardization era. 

So by Wei Ying’s time, the Lan rules were essentially written in a dead, kinda useless, and very very hard-to-read-because-it-has-some-hundred-different-dialect language. 

That’s on top of the fact that it was probably written in the highest level of 书面语 shumianyu (written language) possible. I.e. extremely condensed and truncated (with zero punctuation). 

So the Lan rules are more or less a very thick law book of a different nation written in the strictest, most condensed dead language that is in no way, shape, or form still in practical use for Wei Ying (and most other people not Lan). Do you feel like reading it? I don’t. 

And that is why Wei Ying never figured out the original meaning of the forehead band despite having copied the rules hundreds of times (first day in class, he was already punished and sentenced to copying the rules 100 times by Lan Qiren). 

Because he was just copying the words without really reading them. This was mentioned when Wei Ying asked Lan Wangji the meaning of the Lan forehead band, and Lan Wangji replied with, you have copied the rules so many times and you still don’t know?  

But isn’t Wei Ying really well-read and smart, and what about the Wen book?

1/ Wei Ying is smart and well-read. There was one throw-away line in the book that mentioned his having read all the books available to him in Lotus Pier, and that he had read all kinds of trivia (including the Thousand Sores and Hundred Holes curse that got put on Jin Zixun). But it was also stated that he favored practical things or things that interested him. Lan rules in dead, extremely hard to read language are… well… yeah…

There was never any mention in canon where he remembered specific Lan rules unless it was literally beaten into him by teenage Lan Wangji.

2/ In the novel, the Lan rules are singled out as the only materials written in seal script. The Wen books were standard issued to everyone who took part in the Wen education camp. So the chance that it was written in seal script is low to none.  

Wei Ying is not the only person who doesn’t know the meaning of the Lan forehead band

Jiang Cheng didn't know either. Jin Ling didn't know either. During the Wen archery competition, when Wei Ying pulled off Lan Wangji's forehead band, he did ask Jiang Cheng what the hell was that, when Lan Wangji and other Lan members reacted like he did something shameful. Jiang Cheng replied with, how the hell would I know? Their house has so many rules. Just stop poking them. 

Jin Ling didn't know until the other Lan teenagers told him. The only characters who know this in canon are all members of Lan house. The impression that Wei Ying is the only one who doesn't know is 100 percent fanon. Keep in mind both Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling are clan heirs, so their education and knowledge of other houses absolutely are not low. 

In fact, the novel specifically shows that.....the rest of the cultivation world is not that clear on the actual specifics of Lan rules either. This is shown when Jin Zixun pressured Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji into drinking wine, a clear violation of Lan rules, and the rest of the cultivators in the banquet cheered him on.

 These cultivators were also heads of Houses or very high-ranking members. Many of them would have studied in Cloud Recess. So again, people who have high education… still know shit all about the actual specifics of Lan rules beyond a vague, general monk-like impression.

About the only other person aside from Wei Ying (and Lan members) who knew the specific rule that Lans do not drink in that banquet was Jin Guangyao, a character whose trademark is high intelligence and extreme social savvy (plus having roomed with Lan Xichen and taken care of him for unknown amount of time right before the Sunshot campaign)

Are there secret parts of the Lan rules?  

No. The Lan rules are public. The book is very clear on this. All Lan rules are carved into a massive stone placed at the foot of the mountain where Cloud Recess is, where anyone passing through or coming into House Lan can see it. 

This rule stone was first mentioned when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian met for the first time. Wei Ying complained that he didn’t know the rules and why are there so many things forbidden in the Lan rules? Lan Wangji replied with, rules are written on the stone. Go read it yourself. 

The second time it was mentioned in the book, was Lan Qiren’s first class. The first thing he did was complained that even with the stone and rules being in open space, nobody bothered to read. So he will read the rules now. 

The book mentioned at least two different sets of Lan rules that both need to be obeyed: 礼则篇 Lize Pian (Book of Rites) 上义篇 Shang Yi Pian (Book of Justice). Whether the rules are separated further into more sets or not is unknown. 

Why are some Lan rules better known than others? 

Because Lan rules are based on 克己復禮 Keji Fuli, a real-life Confucius asceticism that calls for the restraint/purge of one’s ego and to return to the core rites. This is also newly confirmed in MXTX’s new interview, though it has been more or less heavily suggested in the book itself, with House Lan being known as the House of Gentlemen. 

Gentlemen here is not the Western ideal of Gentlemen, but rather a Confucius ideal and set of values. Confucius is the person who created this ideal in the first place. 

So it’s not that some rules are better known, but rather the entire image of Lan House is a huge pointer as to how they live their life: with great restraint. 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Inspired by recent events - how would modern AGSZC handle long haul international travel? The airports, the flights and the inevitable jet lag

♯ Angeal always tries to find the positive and bright side of everything, so he's game for anything. He’s the one making checklists, planning every detail, ensuring everyone’s luggage is in order, and being just a little neurotic (just a little) he sees it as part of the fun and a way to ensure everything goes smoothly. Even jet lag can’t dampen his spirits! He views it as just another part of the adventure.

*Angeal kicks the door down*

Angeal: To whoever had the audacity to go up to the packing checklist I've helpfully pinned to the fridge and write 'calm down Angeal', I just want you to know that I'M FUCKING!! CALM! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO CALM IN ALL MY LIFE—HEY! GENESIS YOU GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN WHY I FOUND A WHOLE BOTTLE OF LIQUOR IN YOUR LUGGAGE? WE'RE GOING ON A BUSINESS TRIP, YOU DONUT, NOT TO A RESORT. IF I GET ONE WHIFF OF ALCOHOL ON YOUR BREATH I'M THROWING YOU FROM THE AIRPLANE!

*Sephiroth and Zack are watching from a distance*

Zack: Why is Angeal screaming at the wall?

Sephiroth: Don't look, Zack.

♯ Genesis loves traveling and views every aspect of it as part of the vacation, thanks to his aesthete heart. Packing is an artform to him, creating playlists for the car ride to the airport is essential, selecting books, and planning which episodes of his dramas to catch up on during the flight. Jet lag would be a downer for him, but he's rarely sleeping on vacation anyway, preferring to be out partying. But once he's back needs at least two days to recuperate.

*Genesis is sitting in the briefing room with sunglasses and a cocktail. Zack is fanning him*

Lazard: Commander, this is ridiculous. Your vacation ended two days ago.

Genesis: On the contrary, director. I'm still on vacation.

Lazard: Your theatrics are disrupting the workspace.

Genesis: No they're not.

*Sephiroth and Angeal walk in and immediately slip and fall on the sand that's scattered on the floor*

♯ Sephiroth is convinced that no one in the world hates taking trips more than he does. Work trips are terrible, and the 'getting there' part of vacations is dreadful no matter the 'distractions' he brings to keep his mind busy. Honestly, he'd be a happier person if teleportation were more widely used so he could just appear at places randomly. He's a homebody who loves the comfort of his own space and values his sleep, so jet lag hits him hard.

Zack: Hey, how are you—

Sephiroth: I haven't slept in 22 hours and if I don't drink something caffeinated and release my anger within the next minute, then I will be forced to enlist the help of the shadow that's been following me around all day to tape your mouth shut.

Zack: What shadow?

Sephiroth:

Zack, panicking: WHAT SHADOW?

♯ Zack loves trips, partly because his upbringing in Gongaga made him eager to see the world. He's just happy to be there, though he hates packing and always forgets to bring essential stuff like his underwear and toothbrush. But that's what Angeal is for! Jet lag is nonexistent to him because he can and will sleep through anything, as long as he has a comfortable enough space. The only thing he can't deal with about trips is the sitting still part... yeah, he needs to stretch his legs or else he starts to lose his mind.

*In the airplane*

Genesis: Are you alright? Your eye is twitching and your knees are shaking.

Zack: I can't take this anymore.

Genesis: Read a book.

Zack: I hate reading.

Genesis: Watch a movie.

Zack: I can't focus.

Genesis: Then do one of the two things I do when I'm bored—either poke Angeal with a back scratcher until he explodes or challenge Sephiroth to an arm wrestling match.

Zack:

Zack: Somehow I feel like Sephiroth breaking my arm is the safer option.

Genesis: It is.

Zack: Alright.

♯ IF Cloud survives the motion sickness, he will not be a happy camper during the trip.

Cloud: I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Sephiroth: Ginger is known to reduce nausea and prevents vomiting. Consuming ginger in the form of tea, candy, or even chopped pieces can be effective to combat nausea and vomiting.

Cloud: Do you have ginger?

Sephiroth: No.

Cloud: Then why the hell would you bring that up?

Sephiroth: It's always nice to learn something new, Cloud.

Cloud: *visibly annoyed*

Sephiroth: I realize I've made a mistake. I'm in the splash zone.

[amakumos]

haru yo, koi — yang jungwon (teaser)

full fic is out now! read here.

synopsis. Life is fragile. You’ve known this ever since you got diagnosed with a rare disease that gives you only 10 years to live. You tell yourself to not fall in love, but then you meet Yang Jungwon in the middle of a park surrounded by cherry blossom trees. But just like the fleetingness of the cherry blossoms, your romance with Jungwon is short lived. You can only hope that the universe will be kind enough to offer you a second chance.

genre. angst, fluff, friends to lovers to ?, inspired by the movie the last 10 years.

pairing. non-idol! jungwon x fem! reader

warnings. swearing, reader and jungwon are 22 at the beginning of the fic, mentions of death, hospital, illness & disease, scenes where drinking is involved

word count. est around 30k+ (teaser is approx 1.4k)

author's note. hellohello : ) this is the teaser for the longest every fic i have ever written!!! that’s so crazy!!!! the title is of course inspired by yuzuru hanyu’s program “haru yo, koi” :) i hope u guys enjoy this small little teaser of the full thing & if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just send in an ask !!

Cherry blossoms are known for their existence to be short-lived. They symbolise transience, ephemerality. They fall to the pavement as quickly as they bloom.

Just like the cherry blossoms, your existence will be short-lived. You’re running on borrowed time, and you don’t know when that time will run out. 

Every breath you take could be your last. 

There is a peaceful quietness as you wander around the park, admiring the vibrant pink hues of the flowers in full bloom. The faint smell of the cherry blossoms waft through the air, and you watch as some of the petals fall to the pavement. 

The quietness is interrupted by a dog bark. A white dog runs up to you, and you look at it, startled and confused. Suddenly, a boy who looks around your age runs up to you. 

“I am so sorry about Maeumi,” he says, attaching the leash back onto his dog. “He’s a little energetic sometimes.” 

You look at the boy, and something about him feels familiar. Those eyes – you’d recognise them anywhere. 

It’s Yang Jungwon, an old classmate of yours. He was the head of the student council during your time at the school, and you remember him even though you weren’t exactly there much due to your illness. But Jungwon was always a kind person, helping out anyone in need. He was friendly, and popular. You knew that many people had a crush on him, including your friend Minji.

“Wait a minute,” Jungwon’s eyes narrow suddenly. Something seems to click, and he gasps. “You’re (Name), right? We were in the same class in high school.” 

You’re surprised that even with all his busy duties in high school and with you constantly being away at the hospital, Yang Jungwon still remembers you.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, a small smile on your lips. “I’m surprised you remember who I am.”

“Of course I’d remember you!” Jungwon’s eyes seem to twinkle as he says the words. “We worked together on a project for biology once. Do you remember me?” 

You chuckle. “Of course. Yang Jungwon. Head of the student council.” 

Jungwon smiles. “Yeah. That’s me.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence where you and Jungwon just look at each other, small smiles on both of your faces. Maeumi sits patiently as a few of the cherry blossom petals land on his fur. 

“So… what have you been up to?” Jungwon asks you, looking genuinely interested. How are you supposed to respond to that? Because really, you’re not going to just tell him that what you’ve been up to is… hospital. 

“Um… work. Got a job,” you lie, nodding. “What about you?” 

“I’m a lawyer now,” Jungwon replies, and you smile. “Law. It suits you.” 

“Huh. Everyone tells me that,” Jungwon runs his fingers through his hair to make it a little neater. “So… what do you do at work?” 

“Writing. I… write.” Well, that wasn’t a complete lie. You do write, just… not for work. You’ve only been working on one thing ever since you got your diagnosis — it’s something akin to a diary, recounting your journey through the last 10 years of your life.

Maybe you’ll get to see it published before you’re gone.

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Jungwon beams. “I know your writing’s great. You wrote for the school newspaper, right?” 

It seems like Yang Jungwon remembers a lot about you. You wrote occasionally for the school newspaper when you were well enough to actually write. You’re surprised he remembers that, and you’re quite surprised that he actually read the school newspaper — you thought that with his busy schedule, he wouldn’t have had the time to.

“I did. You have a good memory.” 

“Thank you.” Jungwon cracks a smile. The boy looks at the cherry blossom trees, before returning his focus onto you. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” he asks, and you nod.

“I like the colours.” you say, quietly.

“Me too.” 

“(Name), Soobin just got an emergency at the hospital, so he’s had to leave– oh!” Chaewon suddenly appears out of nowhere, startling both you and Jungwon. “Sorry, I didn’t know that you were talking to someone.” 

“Oh, it’s okay.” you tell your sister, who looks at you, then looks at Jungwon, then looks at you again. “Was I interrupting something?” she asks, with a small smile on her lips. 

“We were just looking at the cherry blossoms.” Jungwon pipes up. “I’m Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Chaewon,” your sister says. “Do you know my sister?”

“We went to high school together,” you tell her. “Jungwon was the head of the student council. I’m actually quite surprised he still remembers me, considering how… you know.” 

“Yes. I know.” 

Jungwon doesn’t know exactly what you and Chaewon are talking about, but it seems personal — and he wouldn’t want to pry. And, you keep mentioning how you’re extremely shocked at the fact that Jungwon seems to remember you.

But, why wouldn’t Jungwon remember his first crush? 

Something about you intrigued Jungwon the moment you stepped into the classroom for the first time. It was seventh grade, and you had walked into the room with a small smile on your lips. Jungwon remembers you catching his attention instantly. 

You two were partnered together for a project, and you both had quite a few pleasant conversations while working on the assignment. Jungwon remembers walking home with a giddy smile on his lips after he had gone to your house. 

But gradually, you started to disappear. 

Throughout high school, Jungwon tried to talk to you as much as he could. Problem was, you were almost never at school, and when you were at school, Jungwon always seemed to be busy.

So Jungwon was never able to get closer to you. He couldn’t get to know you better, or find out why he found himself gravitating towards you. 

You didn’t even show up for graduation. 

The last time Jungwon remembers seeing you was in class one day. You were wrapped in a puffer jacket, a hand warmer in your hands. You looked pale. Jungwon assumed that you might’ve gotten a cold.

He didn’t know that you were sick. He still doesn’t know that you’re sick. Nobody from high school knows, with the exception of Minji and Wonyoung. 

He just assumed you were always busy with out of school activities. But he never forgot about you. 

“Oh, that reminds me. Ricky’s hosting a reunion party next week for our year? We’d love for you to come.” Jungwon says, and Chaewon nudges you gently. “You should go,” your sister whispers to you.

“Oh, I… I don’t know. I don’t think people there will really remember me.” you murmur, and Jungwon shakes his head. “No, they will! Just come along. Here, I’ll give you my number, since Ricky’s still making decisions on which restaurant he’s booking. I’ll text you the details.” 

You type in Jungwon’s number into your phone slowly, saving his contact. “It was really nice seeing you again. What a coincidence, right?” he beams.

“It was nice seeing you again too, Jungwon. I’ll… let you know if I go.” 

“I’ve got to run along now, a friend of mine’s waiting for me.” Jungwon says, a small pout on his lips. “But yeah, text me! I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“See you around, Jungwon.” you say softly, and the boy gives you one last big smile before turning around to leave. Chaewon looks at you with a wide grin on her lips. “Come on, you should go!” 

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. You’re not even sure if people remember you. Or know you at all. You attended school less than 20 times in your last year — to be completely honest, even you found it strange that you graduated. “What if people are like ‘who are you?’ It would make things really awkward.” 

“So? Jungwon knows you. Invite Minji and Wonyoung. There, you know four people. Come on, (Name). You should live your life to the fullest.” 

As you’re nearing the end of the 10 years that the doctor has given you, you decide that perhaps Chaewon is right. You’ve spent years wallowing in self-pity, spending all your days at home when you could’ve been spending time doing things that you’ve always wanted to do. See people you never thought you’d see again. Go to places that you’ve always wanted to go to.

You take a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go.” 

And as a pink cherry blossom petal brushes against your cheek, you return home with Chaewon by your side, and the thought of Yang Jungwon in the back of your mind.

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 12

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.4k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn, @meandurdaughtergotaspecialthing, @innercreationflower, @kisskittenn Chapter Summary: There's a certain kind of pain in reading or watching something from the perspective of a character who doesn't know about the tragedy ahead of them. It's like watching a scary movie and going, "No, don't go to sleep! He's behind the door!" Like in The Song of Achilles, we all know how the original story ends. We know how the actual prophecy plays out. We know that the moment Patroclus's heart stops, Hector and Achilles fates are set in stone. You wince whenever Achilles says he has no reason to kill Hector because "What has Hector done to me?" You want to tell him that Hector will do the unforgivable to him. You want to tell Patroclus not to go on the field. Tell Achilles to get his damned head out of his ass as he disguises Patroclus as himself because he is at risk of losing something far more important than his pride. You hold your breath as Patroclus is speared in the back and as Achilles realizes the consequences of his actions. You knew it was coming, and yet, you still read the story because a part of you hoped. You hoped for the hopeless. All this to say that knowing and still having hope regardless is crueler than complete ignorance. A/N: I imagined your stylist as Anne Hathaway in Alice in Wonderland.

Past (xiii) - You [22 & 23] - THE CAPITOL

If you were from any other district, maybe it would have surprised you how attached Rue is to you. But the sense of community in Eleven breeds this need for kinship. You’re social creatures; you’re not meant to be on your own. Certainly not in a place like the Capitol. It’s how you end up hugging your knees to your chest, an unnamed ocean projected on your wall as you try to get lost in the tides the night before the tributes will be marched into the arena.

No one talks about this part, or maybe they just don’t want to think about it. The part where being forced back into the room you slept in during your own Games eats at you—that anxiety that courses through your veins and leaves your body thrumming. Because no matter what you tell yourself, your body isn’t entirely convinced that you won’t be the one entering the arena tomorrow. You close your eyes and suddenly you’re fifteen again, gripping the sheets so hard you could tear holes in them as you fight the vomit threatening to ride the wave of acid reflux.

Sleeping beside Finnick helped. He reminded you that you weren’t fifteen and alone and wishing you’d die in your sleep so you wouldn’t be slaughtered live. And now? Well, at least there’ll always be the ocean.

There’s a knock on your door, so tentative that you would have missed it if you weren’t already so keyed up.

You pause the projection of the ocean, assuming the sound woke someone up. You get up and go to open it, only to see Rue. Suddenly you’re shamefaced and embarrassed, like you’ve been caught doing something pathetic, even though it’s doubtful she even knows what the sound was, let alone the significance of you listening to it.

“I’m sorry, honey. Was I being too loud?”

“No.” She shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot. “Um, I couldn’t sleep. And I just—I saw that your light was on and thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either?”

That may be true, but you don’t think it’s the only reason. Rue is the oldest of six and they all live in Shacktown. With all those people in one house, you’re sure Rue’s never slept alone a day in her life. It makes you wonder how she managed these past few days.

You’re an only child; your dad was killed before your parents could have any more, so you can’t say for certain that you understand what she feels. Yet, you reminisce on the fact that you’ve never really gone through a year of mentoring without Finnick being within arm’s reach.

She stares up at you with those big, pleading puppy-dog eyes, and you twist your mouth to the side.

“C’mon.” You move so you aren’t blocking the entrance anymore and you nod your head towards your room. “How ‘bout you sleep in here with me tonight? You don’t have to, of course, but we might as well stay up together.”

You know you’ve made the right choice when she grins big, rushes in, and takes a running start to jump on your bed. You shake your head fondly as she scurries to get under the blanket, lying down with them pulled under her arms and getting comfortable like she belongs there. The door slides shut behind you and you twist the dimmer until the only light comes from the projector. You settle into your bed beside Rue andyou snort at how she keeps smiling at you.

“So… What were you watching?”

“Uh.” You pick the remote up to unmute the device and the sound of crashing ocean waves fills any remaining silence. “The ocean.”

She looks over, seemingly transfixed by the drag and pull of the water. The nearest ocean to Eleven is the one that rests just outside of the towering fence and only serves as a deterrent for escaping. This is her first time seeing one outside of a textbook. “Why?”

“Well, I,” you let out a weighted breath, "I thought it would make me feel better. Help me sleep.”

“Oh.” Says Rue and then she looks at you. “Why?”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Um. I guess the ocean reminds me of my friend and—I don’t know. It’s just easier to sleep with him around."

“Is he your crush?” Crush? Such an innocent question feels surprisingly weighted considering your current relationship with Finnick. Or lack thereof. Is it a crush now that it’s unrequited?

“I love him.” You tell the wall and it’s the sad truth. You still do. You wouldn’t be so hung up if you didn’t.

"Whoa. You like like him.” Like like. It’s been years since you heard that. It brings to mind how young she is. It’s not as if you needed another reminder. “It’s okay, I won’t tell. I like someone too.”

“Oh? And what’s his name?” You smile. You both flip over to face each other. You picture little you and little Sage, shyly holding hands during downtime, and find yourself hoping this boy liked Rue back.

“You can’t tell anyone.” She narrows her eyes and makes you swear, which you do with a pinky promise. “Coriander.” Her voice goes all quiet and timid as she hides her face and you wonder if you’ve ever seen anything cuter.

“Ah, I think I might know him.” She looks at you with wide eyes as you tease her, peering out from between her fingers.

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She denies it as you tap a finger on your chin and pretend to think about it.

“No, no. I think I do. He’s got pink hair, no teeth, and walks with a waddle, right?”

“No! ” She giggles and you can’t help but giggle along with her. You take a moment.

“Finnick. The boy I like.” You provide when she looks confused. “His name is Finnick.”

“Oh, oh! Is he that boy from Four? The victor?” It’s hardly shocking that she recognizes him. He’s one of ‘the greats’. You nod and she gasps like that’s the juiciest piece of gossip she’s ever heard.

“He’s pretty.” She whispers.

“He is.” You laugh.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you say without thought or contempt. Finnick’s indeed been nothing but kind to you since you’ve met him, current behavior not included. You find that even when you’re mad at him, you can’t disparage him. And you don’t want to lie to Rue. “He made me this." You lift your wrist and show her your bracelet. You’ve been wearing it around your ankle while you’re out in public, but when you’re on your own, it goes back to its rightful place.

“Cori made something for me too.”

She pulls her necklace up for you to see. It’s woven grass attached to a wooden charm shaped like a flower—you squint—or maybe a star? Definitely the handiwork of a child. Adorable. It reminds you of Cane.

“Your token?”

“Yep. He gave it to me when everyone came to see me off after I was reaped. He ran all the way home and back to give it to me. He almost didn’t get back in time, but I waited for him. I knew he’d come, and that’s why it’s good luck.”

“Makes sense.” You nod and she nods with you, like she’s happy that you get her logic. “He must like you a lot to go through all that.”

“Yeah. He’s sweet.” She smiles, fidgeting with the charm.

“I bet he is.” You push some of her curls out of her face. Just two doomed girls talking about their equally doomed crushes.

It’s silent for a moment; ocean noises make your eyes feel heavier with the pull of each tide. You watch as the shadows cast from the projector paint the ceiling in a series of swirling blues. You think you can see Finnick’s favorite color hidden amongst the other shades.

“Were you scared? When you went into the arena?” Rue asks and you still can’t find it in yourself to lie to her.

“Terrified.”

“Really? You’re so brave though?” She sounds so genuinely confused that you have to hold back your laughter. You don’t want her to think you're making fun of her. You appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s more than you have in yourself.

“I think…being brave means doing something even if you are terrified.” You look away from the ceiling to make eye contact. “It’s okay to be scared, Rue. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She mumbles like she doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you’re incredibly brave.” You know she regularly went foraging for food for her siblings, and she took on more hours than what was required of her. Who knows how many times she’s entered her name for Tesserae?

And she’s still so young.

“Really?”

“Oh, definitely.” You laugh at her skepticism. You’ve laughed more with Rue in the short time you’ve had with her than in the last two years combined. Sadly, there hasn’t been much of a reason for you to. Realizing that this is the last night you two will laugh together is devastating. “I was fifteen and I felt like I was on the edge of breaking down the entire time. How are you so calm?” She’s only twelve years old—not even a teenager. If you were in her shoes, you’d have dehydrated yourself from how much you were crying.

“I am scared, but…" She drags out the ‘uh’, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t feel real.”

“Hmm. I get that.” You don’t tell her that it won’t start feeling real until she either wins or dies. It’ll only make her feel worse. She closes her eyes and you two are quiet for a time—so long that you think she’s fallen asleep.

Her voice is small when she asks, “Can I hold your hand?”

“Of course.” You hold your right one out for her to take, and her little fingers lace with yours. Her palms are callused too. Not as much as yours. No, she’ll never have enough time to catch up to yours.

Rue moves closer to you and you wrap your left arm around her. You feel her say your name more than you hear it and you hum in response. “Thank you.”

You pull her closer to your chest, your linked hands resting between you. “Of course, sweetheart.” You say this into the crown of her head, wishing that you could have done more for her and Thresh—wishing you weren’t so helpless.

But you can do this. You can give her this last comfort, this last embrace from home. You hold her tight as you both fall asleep and you only let her go when they come to take her away in the morning.

You do not cry.

-

You miss him, you decide one day. You thought you hated him after you got through your self-pity, but the words "hate" and "Finnick" are too oxymoronic to ever stay together for long. You were so angry at yourself, angry at the world, but you sat with that anger long enough to know what it truly was. Grief. You miss him the way you'd miss a limb. You're so used to having it that you only remember it's gone when you notice the space it used to occupy and feel the phantom aches of what it used to be—what you used to have and took for granted.

Chaff has described in detail the pain of losing his hand. But, he said, nothing hurts worse than remembering it’s not there.

You've never taken Morphling and you don't know anyone personally who's gotten hooked on it, but you imagine this is what withdrawal feels like. You haven't seen him since before he sent that letter, and it feels like he's actively avoiding you. You said years ago, after Annie's Games, that you could handle just being his friend if he decided he didn’t want you anymore. But he never gave you the chance.

That’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. You know when you’re not wanted around, you can take a hint.

Maybe it's for the best. There’s no telling what you would do if you ran into him again. Something pathetic, probably, like begging him to take you back. There's a specific moment when you really feel your loss. A few days into the 74th Hunger Games. Chaff is finalizing the transaction with the money Eleven gathered to send bread for Rue and Thresh, so you’re on your own. 

“Your girl is something else.” You tell Haymitch from where you stand beside him, arms crossed, as you split your attention between him and the Games.

He cocks his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, then returns to watching Katniss and Rue rehearse their strategy. “I can say the same to you.” You hadn’t expected Rue to team up with anyone, but you can’t say you are surprised that it’s Katniss. The girl did volunteer for her little sister, after all. Primrose, was it? But you’re concerned that your little speech about being brave by doing things that terrify you may have swayed her to come out of hiding and help Katniss.

You can’t take full credit, though. Rue—well, she’s far too kind for her own good.

You look him over, a glass of something alcoholic in one hand while the other remains buried in his pocket. Honestly, you’ve never seen him this invested in the Games before, but you could hazard a guess why. You weren’t just blowing smoke up his ass about Katniss. She’s honestly got a pretty good shot of winning, if not making it to the top five. She’s already a fan favorite, along with Rue, Peeta, Glimmer, and Cato. She’s exceeded your expectations, along with Haymitch’s. No wonder he’s been networking his ass off. If she’s actually got a chance at surviving this, he owes it to her to try.

That’s when it happens.

Rue’s screams echo in your ears as Katniss races through the forest. Something has gone wrong—she's been captured or the Careers are using her as bait, or—you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress and then recross them, wanting more than anything to bite at the skin around your nails. You hold your breath, hoping beyond hope that she’s saved from whatever fate has befallen her.

She’s by herself in the clearing. Caught in a net, but not hurt. Katniss manages to get Rue out and your muscles begin to untense, but the relief is incredibly short-lived. 

Marvel, that cocky little boy from two, throws his spear with deadly precision, lance soaring past Katniss to pierce Rue in the abdomen.

Your hands are numb as they cover your mouth, but then you remember where you are and drop them just as quickly. She pulls the spear from her chest and you want to yell at her not to, that taking it out will only make her bleed quicker. Like it even matters at all when she’ll bleed out regardless. You think you need to sit down.

Katniss catches her before she falls. You’re lightheaded.

Katniss sings to her after she whispers something that the mics can’t pick up and it feels like your heart is being wrung dry. You think of Rue’s mother. You think of her six siblings, who all look up to her. You think of Coriander. You think of how small she felt in your arms and how tightly she held your hand. You think of a lot of things in the time it takes for her heart to stop beating.

The cannon fires and all eyes go to you. Ranging from curious to pitying. Some are even tearful. She was a fan favorite, after all. Mentors and Capitols alike split their attention between you and the screens to catch your reaction, but your face is deceptively blank. You stare ahead silently, your eyes unseeing as they remain on the screen.

You will not give them the pleasure of seeing you break down. Katniss will leave and Rue’s body will be airlifted out and that will be the end of it.

This is nothing new for you. You’ve gone through this twelve other times. Why would she be any different? She isn't. You tell that to your shaky hands and they only tremble further. You tell your heavy lungs and they only get heavier. You try telling your chilly skin, but all it does is make you feel colder. Why is she different?

You want to close your eyes as Katniss grieves. To be able to save one little girl but not another, it must weigh heavy.

“I’m so sorry." Someone comes to stand beside you, some Capitol elite. “One less chance for your district to win.” You look at him from the corner of your eye and Haymitch scoffs on your other side. For one stupid moment, you thought he was offering his condolences.

“Right. Well. There’s still Thresh.” He nods along to your words, thoughtfully, like you’re talking about the likelihood of a horse winning a race.

“Yes, he’s the big one, right? I have money riding on him or Cato winning.” Of course, he remembers his name and not Thresh’s. You close your eyes before they can roll out of your head. “I’d like to send him something to eat as a sponsor. I worry—what is she doing?” You open your eyes to see what tribute has captured his attention, only to see Katniss again. But she’s still with Rue, kneeling next to her body with an armful of flowers—

“She’s giving her a funeral.” You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Rue rests on a bed of flowers—white daisies and lavender. She tucks a bouquet of daisies in her little hands and you wonder if Katniss knows the significance that being surrounded by flowers has for your people. Or maybe that’s something your two districts have in common. All that’s missing is fruit and it would be a proper Eleven funeral.

A funeral for a little girl. Your heart grows heavy with that realization and your mouth curls into a scowl.

You shouldn’t think about how she clung to you before she was sent into the arena. You shouldn’t think of Coriander’s childish hope dying with her. You shouldn’t think about her family watching this. You shouldn’t think of how her mother woke up this morning with six children and will go to sleep with only five. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t—

“Oh, how sweet.” The man coos.

“Yes.” Katniss faces the camera, kisses her three middle fingers, and salutes the cameras—salutes District Eleven. You don’t think of Coriander sprinting to the train clutching a grass-woven necklace with a good-luck charm that wasn’t very lucky. “Very sweet."

On instinct, you reach to the left for Finnick, but there's no hand to hold other than your own.

You need Finnick, and he isn’t here and for the first time since you've become a mentor, you have to brave the games by yourself and shoulder your grief alone. 

“Kid…” A flinch rolls through you at the unexpected voice, and you look to your left at Haymitch’s face as he goes through a range of emotions before settling on sympathy. No. Empathy. For a moment, you forgot he was beside you. But he hasn’t forgotten you. 

He does something that surprises you again. He places a big hand on the nape of your neck, warm and callused, and squeezes. You exhale sharply, your face twisting minutely, and it’s the closest thing to crying that you’ll allow yourself to do. He pulls you into his side, and it’s a battle not to burrow into him—a battle you lose. Your image will allow you to do this much. Allow you to be comforted while many of the other Capitols in the room do the same thing because it’s all very sad. You wrap your arms around his waist from where you’re held tight against his side and his hand goes down to rub your back soothingly.

No words are said between you two, and that’s enough. It has to be. Past (xiii) - Finnick 

[ 22 & 23] - DISTRICT FOUR Finnick has never felt worse.

The sky is clear, the stars are bright, and Finnick has never felt worse.

It’s a particularly quiet night on the beach. There’s no one walking along the shore, no bonfires, no night swimming. There’s only Finnick. 

He sits with his legs crossed under him; the coarse sand is warm against the exposed skin of his legs and feet. He’s always been able to come down to the beach to think and unload any weight on his shoulders. With how heavy his heart feels, he’s never needed that release more. A cool breeze carries the smell of the ocean, but it’s not as comforting as it should be. 

He reaches into the ornate box sitting between his thighs and just rests his hand there, letting his fingers ghost over the pages upon pages of parchment paper. He’s kept a tight lid on this box, hoarding your letters and your scent inside like a corvid. Even now, outside on the shore, your smell wafts around him—concentrated and stiff. He blinks past the tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t look inside; he doesn’t think he can handle it. To see the length of your relationship measured by words on paper, to know he’ll never be adding to this box again—it’s too much.

He pulls out a letter at random. 

His eyes have already readjusted to the darkness as he uses the moonlight to read. He traces the looping lines of your handwriting. 

This is the letter you sent along with that pretty picture of yourself in case he forgot what you look like. A beautiful sentiment, but largely unnecessary. Finnick knows your reflection as well as he knows his own, if not better. Even now, with all this space, time, and hurt between the two of you, he could draw your portrait blindfolded. Not that anything could ever live up to the real thing. Nothing can compare to you.

He sighs, twisting his bracelet around his wrist absently. He feels the cool grooves of the fish charm between his thumb and pointer finger as he looks at the stars. There are more stars than there are grains of sand. Each tiny, flickering dot is a blazing inferno, the likes of which he can hardly comprehend. They don’t shine nearly as brightly as you do in his memory. 

He just…he just wishes he could have told you that.

Unconsciously, his eyes fall on Cassiopeia. Punished for boasting about the beauty of her daughter. It’s not fair. Her only crime was loving her child, and for that, she was forced to give her up for the safety of her kingdom.

Sacrificing someone you love for the greater good. He can’t tell if he wants to scoff, scream, or cry. Maybe all three.

Are you looking at the same sky as him? Even now, are the two of you still connected? Is it cruel to hope for that? It has to be, but Finnick has found that he's grown rotten in his misery. Rotten and incredibly selfish. 

Over the past year, you’ve sent him letter after letter and he read each one with ravenous eyes—desperate for you in any way he could have you. You were angry, you were hurt, you were confused. You alternated between begging him and demanding him to reply. So he did. Of course, he did. He could never deny you anything.

He just never sent any of them.

He kept them stashed in a drawer, locked away so he didn’t have to look at them—wouldn’t have to look at his bleeding heart. It wasn’t healthy; he knows that, but still. He just wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was back to normal. That he hadn’t ripped out his soul by tearing yours apart. 

Those letters had been a constant staple in his life for nearly seven years, and—he was going to wean himself off of it, off of you, really, he was. 

But he never got the chance to before they stopped coming a few months ago. They just stopped.

He should be happy about that. He should be pleased that you're moving on. He should be a lot of things that he's not, but, as it turns out, he’s getting pretty fucking sick of performing for an empty audience. You've given up on him, and you have every right to, but— 

God, it hurts.

It’s for the best. It’s what he wanted—no, it’s what he needed to happen for both of you. And it’s certainly better than the alternative Snow offered.

Knowing all that doesn’t make it hurt any less; it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

He takes out another letter, and it’s…it’s the first one? The first letter you left him after you spent the night in his room. He remembers waking up on the floor, tired and raw from that conversation on the balcony. He was fully prepared to act like it never happened. He was a little disappointed to wake up alone, but he was sure that it only proved that you wanted to forget about it too. Imagine his surprise when he rolled over—not to the empty space he was expecting, but to a note on your pillow.

I really appreciate…

Thank you for…

Just thank you.

He was left floored. He was seventeen years old and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone thanked him for anything.

Finnick brings the note to his nose and your perfume floods his senses, drowning him in memories. Memories of long train rides home from the Capitol, his only company being the smell of you on his clothes.

And try as he might, he can’t forget. He can still feel the blood caked under his fingernails and flaking at his wrist. Can still feel the warmth of your beating heart in his hand after he ripped it out. That’s his punishment. Remembering it all, good and bad.

He’s broken from his musing by the crunching of sand approaching him from behind.

“You’ve been out here for hours. Aren’t you cold?” Annie's soft-spoken voice is almost lost in the wind. No. He isn’t. He’s the exact opposite, actually. He’s scorching from the inside out. He’s burning bright and hot and one day he’ll implode under the weight of it all like a supernova. The only respite he can imagine is the cool relief of your touch. He’s scared he’ll forget what that feels like. 

She sighs when he doesn’t answer. “We know you’re hurting, Finnick, and we’re worried. You can talk to us. You don’t have to just…talk to your letters. We’re here for you.”

He doesn’t look up; he doesn’t have the strength to, but he nods anyway. Of course, they can tell he’s hurting. A blind man could spot his suffering from a mile away. He hadn’t bothered to hide it outside of the Capitol.

“...Try not to stay out here too long, okay?

Annie squeezes his shoulder before walking back up the beach, leaving him alone, and he's thankful. She shouldn't have to see him like this. She shouldn't have to see him break down. 

I'm allowed to, he thinks, I'm in mourning.

But how can he mourn something he killed?

He reaches into the box one more time, pulling out a stray scrap of paper and a pen. His hands shake along with his shoulders, his handwriting so bad that only he and you would be able to understand it. He writes:

Dear Heart,

I don’t know who Finnick Odair is without his love for you.

Every day, I think I can’t possibly miss you more than I already do. And then another day passes and I prove myself wrong.

Is there a fate crueler than this?

I just want to see you again. I just want to hold you again. One last glance, one last smile, one last laugh, one last kiss. If I knew the last time I saw you would be the LAST time I saw you, I never would have blinked. I’d have made the moment last forever. But forever isn’t nearly enough, is it?

Do you think you could ever forgive me?

-I love you I love you I love you,

Finn

Present (XI) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“I thought I’d find you here."

“Haymitch.” Finnick leans in the doorway of your room, wiping sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the little time he had left with you, but he hadn’t slept next to you in so long and it felt like he was lured in.

“Listen,” the man rubs at his scruff, “it’s not what I came here for, but I’m happy you two figured out whatever the hell…” He trails off with a particularly constipated look, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of your room.

“...Right. Thanks.” Finnick clears his throat. “I’m, uh, I’m happy too.”

“Yeah… Anyway.” He sighs. “There've been a few last-minute adjustments to the plan.”

That wakes Finnick up, his mind running over what Haymitch has already told him to do in the arena. “Oh, should I wake Star—”

“No, no. This is just for you. We realized you’d have no way of knowing when you should be heading to the pickup point, especially since things out here can change on a dime.” He steps closer, burying his hands in his pockets. “Once all of the necessary players are gathered in the arena, a sponsor gift will be sent down, probably some kind of food. Pay attention to the district and the amount that’s sent.”

Finnick squints. “Why?”

“The district tells you the day we’re coming and the amount tells you the hour—do not get the two mixed up.” Haymitch raises a hand, staring Finnick down until he nods. 

“Alright, I won’t. And the pickup point?”

“When in doubt, Beetee will know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s sure working behind the scenes and acting as a messenger is harrowing work, especially with Snow on such high alert. “Our girl managed to get in Peeta’s good graces. Not that I’m surprised; they probably bonded over how ‘fun’ and 'rewarding' it is to help the less fortunate or something. Having her plus Beetee and Wiress will definitely give Johanna and Blight some credibility in Katniss’s eyes. You, on the other hand, are gonna need to rely on something other than your good looks and Mags.” He fishes a flash of gold out of his pocket—some kind of bracelet.  

Finnick takes it gingerly, examining how the light makes it shimmer.

“Take it into the arena as a token. Show it to her, preferably before she shoots you between the eyes. And, shit, if that doesn’t work, ask her…tell her to remember who the real enemy is.”

He wants to ask what that means outside of this very specific context; he wants to know what this bracelet means to him and Katniss if just seeing it will be enough for her to make him an ally. But he doesn’t. He feels like it’ll bring on more questions than it’ll answer.

“I’m gonna need you to hold onto something for me then.” He reaches into one of the deep pockets along his billowy pants until he feels the familiar shape against his fingers. He’s almost hesitant to give it away. When the Quell was announced, he was sure he would die with it on him. But it’s a part of you and he can’t take the chance of it getting destroyed. “It’s, um. It’s a photo she gave to me a few years back, I always carry it on me—”

“You don’t need to explain.” When it’s handed to him, Haymitch takes a moment to look at you. Finnick feels a little self-conscious of how faded it is from years of him running his fingers along your face—faded from years of being well loved. “I’ll make sure she gets back to you.” He’s careful when placing your photo in his pocket and Finnick feels relieved that there’s someone on the outside who wants to get you out of the arena just as much as he does.

“Good luck, kid.” He squeezes Finnick’s shoulder and hesitates. His eyes shift to the walkway that leads to where you’re resting. “When she wakes up, tell her… Tell her I said…” He trails off, his face severe, and Finnick understands painfully well.

“I will.” He promises. Haymitch purses his lips before giving a nod. Finnick watches his back as he leaves and wonders if that will be the last conversation he has with the man, one of his oldest friends.

Present (XI) - You 

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL; THE ARENA “Your tracker.” The Peacekeeper yanks your arm up wordlessly and waits for you to pull your sleeve back. You squint around the sharp pain as he jabs the needle into your forearm, burying the tracking device under your skin. You glare at his back and rub at your now-raised skin. 

You grip the straps of your seatbelt as the hovercraft begins its ascent.

As relayed from Haymitch to Finnick to you, Peeta brought you up as an ally, and, luckily enough, Katniss wasn't against the idea. It might have something to do with the conversation you and she had before the Chariot Rides or maybe it’s the fact that you're the only person Peeta suggested. It hadn't been your intention to get on his good side when you offered to train him, but you're glad you did. It makes your job that much easier.

“It's a very breathable, lightweight material, so I’m thinking of a humid environment, maybe tropical. Large bodies of water for certain. Have you decided on a token?" Your stylist pipes up from her seat beside you.

“Oh. Yeah.” You lift your hand to show her the blue bracelet sitting snugly on your wrist. She gasps and you pull your wrist away, looking around the carrier for anything that could be the cause of the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing!” She waves you off with a flippant hand. “It’s just, I didn’t think I’d see you wear that bracelet again. I know Finnick never took his off, but—” You yank your arm back against your chest, holding your bracelet almost as if you can hide it.

"Wha-what..how do you, how…?”

“Us stylists confide in each other, and, well, those of us behind the scenes thought the two of you were just so cute together! I never saw you without that bracelet for five years straight and then one day, it was just gone. Poof! Oh, we were worried sick something happened with you two. But now it’s back!” She cheers, clapping her hands.

You gape at her. “You…you knew? All of you? And you never…?” Never leaked the gossip to the tabloids? To Snow?

“What? Heavens no! We're not heartless, dear. It wasn't our place. Besides,” she leans over, her crimson-painted lips pulled into a smile as she pats your thigh. Her eyes are glossy enough that you’re almost certain she’ll start crying. “You two deserve to be happy.”

You nod stiltedly, rocked by this new information. Did Finnick know? No. If either of you did, you would have been a bit nicer to your stylists. You’re quiet for the rest of the flight as she talks to you. This time around, you do try to listen to what she’s saying, nodding along at the right moments to show you’re paying attention. It’s a bit late, but you feel like you owe it to her.

She walks you down to the tube that’ll take you to the arena.

“This is it, my dear.” She sniffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she actually starts crying now. “Oh, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.” She apologizes, fanning her pale face. You don’t think about it too hard; instead, you step toward her and pull her into a tentative hug.

“It’s okay, Shimmer,” you comfort her. “And for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“It’s not okay. It’s not fair at all.” You let her squeeze you tight, allowing the hug to go on longer than you normally would. She inhales and then pulls away. She holds you by your shoulders and takes you in. “It’s been an honor working with you, my dear.”

“Same here.” You smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

You step onto the platform.

The door slides shut behind you and you start feeling sick as you rise. Sick enough that you worry you might vomit before you even make it into the arena. Your heart beats in your teeth. It’s starting to dawn on you, you realize, just how fucked you are. There’s the revolution, but there’s no guarantee you’ll even live long enough to be saved. You’ve been training like crazy, not that it was that hard with the way you grew up. It’s one thing to use your skills for physical labor; it’s another to use them in a fight to the death. That wasn’t how you survived your Games.

You hold your breath, gathering and reminding yourself of what’s important. The plan. And the plan hinges on you getting to the Cornucopia and surviving.

Your stylist tearfully waves you off as you rise, her elaborate and puffy white gown the last you see of her. You look up at the hole of light as you approach it, your nails digging into your palm.

The drastic temperature change makes you shiver and squint, raising your hand to block the blinding rays of the sun. This heat is different from the kind you’re used to. Heavier, somehow even more humid than Eleven’s muggy summers. The sun disorients you and the little wind that comes through carries the smell of salt. You push through the fog of your senses and force yourself to see.

There’s water—a shit ton of it. Saltwater if your nose is to be trusted. Shimmer was right.

The first thing you do is look for Finnick. You can’t help yourself; the need to know where he is is stronger than your need to acclimate. Your gaze bounces from tribute to tribute in your search for him. Sweat is already gathering on your brow when you finally find him. You see him, but only barely, on your left. He’s about three sections away, close enough that you make eye contact with him. It’s brief and fleeting, but long enough for your stomach to settle and your heartbeat to slow. 

You’re all divided by rocky strips of land that protrude from the island the Cornucopia rests on like the spokes of a wheel. And in between each spoke are two tributes. That would mean there are twelve sections.

Mentally, you try to map out where everyone is. You note that Finnick is standing beside Chaff.

On your immediate left is Johanna, sectioned off from you by the long line of rocks. You nod at each other and relief courses through you knowing you won’t have to search for her. Beetee stands with Cecilia in between Finnick and Johanna’s respective sections. Was this placement intentional or just luck?

With half of your group near you, your eyes rove around for the missing two and—

“Shit.” You curse. You’ll have to go looking for Wiress. That’s the first part of the plan: Johanna gets Beetee, you get Wiress, and Blight waits for the four of you away from the Cornucopia. You’re lucky to be placed next to Beetee and Johanna, but it would have been nice if Wiress was a little closer. Or within your line of sight, at least.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin. May the odds be ever in your favor.”  

The sound of Ceasar’s cohost echoes throughout the arena and you rush to gather more information. On your immediate right is the woman from Nine, about the same distance from you as the strip of land on your left. You know she never stepped foot in the training center, so you’re confident in the fact that she isn’t a threat. A little further down are Peeta and the man from Ten. You do a double-take. You hadn’t expected him to be so close to you and you have to force yourself to ignore him. You beat back the instinct to watch him like a hawk; that isn’t your job right now—it’s Mags and Finnick’s. The next section houses Woof and Mags and beside them are Enobaria and the female morphling. That’s as far down as you can see.

Your muscles tense up when he begins the countdown. 

You take stock of your surroundings. Before you is the Cornucopia, and behind you is a beach and a deep forest—no, a jungle. The large body of water surrounding your platform looks pretty clear. Nothing but fish and plants, you’re sure. It’s doubtful they’d put anything deadly in there. Not when so many of the tributes can’t do anything more than doggy paddle. And certainly not this early into the Games. What an odd choice to have water this deep. Especially considering how rare a skill swimming is in the districts.

You watch the red, rotating cube as it flashes down to one, your muscles poised like a spring as you prepare to jump. You take a breath and dive in.

Deep in the woods behind the shack your family used to call home, there was a lake in an area the Peacekeepers seldom patrolled. That’s where your dad taught you to swim. You haven’t done it in a long time, not since before he was killed. You’re more than a little rusty and you wish you had aimed a little more to your left.

The cold water is a shock to your system, but you don’t have time to stay idle. You don’t sink to the bottom like you think you will; you’ve forgotten how much lighter water makes your body. The salt in the water burns your eyes every time you try to open them so you squint and swim towards where you think the strip of land is. It’s a battle. The distance, while a problem on its own, is nothing compared to the strength of the waves. 

You’re panting by the time you make it there, shaky fingers grappling with the wet rocks as you pull yourself up, thanking your forethought to focus on training your upper body strength. The woman from Nine had jumped in the opposite direction, aiming for the beach instead of the Cornucopia. Smart. You’d do the same, but you need a weapon and you need to find Wiress. You push your water-laden hair out of your eyes, getting your feet under you and taking off towards the Cornucopia. 

You're surprised when you make it across without slipping. You have to make the split-second decision between getting a weapon or looking for Wiress first. You glance behind you, and no one seems that adept in the water on your side. Johanna is just now clawing her way out of the waves. You guess there aren’t many reasons to swim in Seven. You make a run for the mouth of the Cornucopia with the sound of cannon fire chasing you and you hope to God that no one sets their sights on Wiress. You glance to your right, and you can blurrily make out Finnick, Katniss, and Mags helping Peeta out of the water.

You skid to a stop, your legs freezing without your actual input.

“Finnick!” You yell, and his head whips up before you fully get his name out. The water weighs his hair down, turning it a darker blond than you’re used to seeing it. You aren’t entirely sure why you called out for him. Maybe it was more for his comfort than yours; he’ll need to know that you weren’t the cause of one of the cannons firing. 

“Star!” He grasps his trident tighter, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. When he sees none, his shoulders relax but his trident remains poised in anticipation.

He looks from you to his group and back again. You shake your head to stop him from taking that step forward. It was only three hours ago that you last saw him. And before that, the two of you stayed up talking about nothing until you fell asleep in each other’s arms. Nonetheless, the desire to run to him is strong. You can see him fight that same impulse you do. When the cannon fires again, Finnick leaps into action, nodding at you with an uncertain gleam in his eyes before placing Mags on his back. 

You watch them all run for the jungle before getting your weapon. You spot a scythe propped up with spears and tridents and can tell immediately that it was planted for you. You take a second to analyze it distrustfully. A metal handle and a deeply curved blade, undoubtedly for show rather than harvesting. You won’t take it. It’s big and cumbersome, and it’ll slow you down in this kind of terrain. Plus, the strength needed to wield this in an actual fight is beyond you. Someone like Chaff or Brutus would get far more use out of it. Maybe even Finnick, if his trident ever fails him. It’ll just tire you out.

Instead, you opt for the twin sickles hanging next to it. They’re also bigger than any you’ve seen in Eleven. With their thick, smooth wooden handles, the blades are sharper than any you have ever used. Their weight will take some getting used to. When you notice more tributes orienting themselves on the rocks behind you, you decide the time for contemplation is over. 

You sprint to your left, eyes scouring the water for a small brunette woman. Wiress is on the other side of the Cornucopia, more floating in the water than swimming.

“Wiress!” You call. She waves her hands as if you can’t see her and you nod, weary of attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, she’s been in the water for so long that the waves have carried her towards the island. It doesn’t take much to pull her out.

“You, you’re hurt?” She speaks in her usually broken speech pattern, gesturing towards you, and you’re quick to look down, thinking you’ve been hurt without knowing it. When you come back with nothing, you look back at her, confused, and she gestures again. You realize it’s a question, not a statement. 

She seems tunneled in on whether you’re hurt or not. Drenched with water and frustration, you spin around in front of her. “I’m fine, Wiress, I’m fine, but we have to go.” She’s a lot more amicable now, allowing you to corral her back to where you saw Johanna last. The bodies littered around give you pause. In front of you lies a woman who is half-submerged in the pinkish water. Taking a deep breath, you step over her and drag Wiress with you.

When you get to the mouth of the Cornucopia, you spot your two allies locked in a fight. That is to say, Beetee huddles behind Johanna as she fights, clutching a spool of wire to his chest as if it were the only thing between him and certain death. Johanna and the man from Nine are locked in the most dangerous game of tug of war you’ve ever seen. They both have their hands on an axe and if this were a game of speed, she’d have him on his knees already. But he’s bigger than her, stronger too, and just as unwilling to let it go.

Her teeth are bared in exertion, legs almost buckling under the strain. He has the blade pushed alarmingly close to her neck and you don’t think about it; your body is pushed into action before you’re even aware that you’re moving. Later, you’ll think back on how easy it was. You’ll think about how quickly he stopped being a human being like you and instead became an enemy—a threat. You’ll think about it—about who he used to be before he became a body—and you will come alarmingly close to crying. For now, you kick the man in the back of the knee and he goes down with a grunt. Johanna uses the leverage the new position gives her and snatches the axe out of his hands with a huff.

You lift the sickle in your dominant hand high in the air, putting your full weight behind it as you drive the blade into the top of his head. The collision of metal against bone ricochets up your arms, leaving your muscles vibrating. He falls forward with a heavy thud and you stumble backwards. Your hands feel like they’re vibrating and the adrenaline coursing through you puts a stop to any panic before it can begin. 

You move forward and have to place your foot on his back, grunting as you use both hands to yank your weapon back out. He makes a keening sound in the back of his throat—the guttural moans of a dying animal. You’re not used to being the one on this side of the slaughter. He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long. You won’t wait for the cannon to go off. 

“Let’s go!” The four of you sprint towards the beach, glancing behind you in case the Careers decide to give chase. There are still plenty of tributes on their platforms, too scared to brave the water. They should hold their attention long enough for your group to get away. Running away as the Careers lay claim to the Cornucopia makes you feel like prey. 

“Blight!” Johanna shouts and your head whips around, searching until you find the burly man a few yards away, waving you over. You all run to him and you take another mental stock.  

Between the five of you, you have an axe, two sickles, a machete Johanna managed to snag, a spool of wire, and two brilliant minds. That should be more than enough for the plan. Johanna hands the machete over to Blight and you and her share a glance before wordlessly booking it into the jungle with your charges. Blight leads and you carry the rear. 

You really hope it doesn’t take long to find Finnick.

A/N: ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ Heyyyy, are you mad at me? I hope you didn't mind that rant in the summary. I felt like Rue's death from this perspective hurt a little more bc you know it's coming, but Star doesn't, and sometimes I get carried away with writing my thoughts. ┐(シ)┌ More Finnick audios in the next chapter to make up for the shortage in this one. Come yell at me!!!

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi can think of a whole load of other things he wants to do more than go to a party.

warnings: f!reader, sfw but some making out :3 nagi is such a slacker grrr, all characters written 22+ regardless. note: more nagi for the soul ueueue! i just know he tries to lure u in like this when he has to go out!

“sei, we need to go!”

you groan as you take in the sight of nagi still resting on the edge of your bed, his eyes are on his phone and his socks are still resting in the space next to him as he taps on his screen — exactly where you left him 15 minutes ago when you went to finish doing your hair in the bathroom.

“eh, don’t wanna go though. parties are so bothersome, jus’ wanna stay home and cuddle instead.” his words are muffled slightly as he gives you a slow blink, lips jutting out into a subtle little pout that almost makes you roll your eyes with how much of a baby he was.

but you still find yourself smiling before you’re taking a few steps closer to stand between his spread legs, sighing when almost immediately nagi’s phone is forgotten on the bed next to him and his arms are reaching to rest on the back of your thighs instead, feeling his fingers trace and massage gently along your skin as he pulls you closer.

“it’s not just any party, it’s reo’s. he’ll be mad if we’re not there.” you try to reason again as your hands smooth gently through the snowy locks of the strikers hair, convincingly as he hums before he’s leaning into your touch and letting his eyes rest closed.

“eh, don’t wanna.” nagi grumbles again and you don’t miss the way his brows drop into a soft frown when your fingers stops playing with his hair — opting to rest around his shoulders instead. you’d gotten him this far, actually changing out of his usual oversized sweats into a tighter fitting shirt and some jeans — still his usual style but a little more put together, you wouldn’t want to waste the opportunity of being pressed up against him all night.

“you’re such a baby.” you laugh as your fingers trace along the muscle of his shoulders and you watch him shudder before he’s blinking up at you — his arms raising slightly until he’s able to wrap them tightly around your hips and lean himself against you.

“hey, ‘m not a baby. i’m 190cm y’know.”

“so, you’re just a big baby then.” you retort quickly and you giggle when nagi grumbles before nuzzling himself into the fabric of your shirt — his arms around you squeezing tighter until his chin is resting against you and he’s sending you another drowsy look.

“no fair, that’s mean.” he finally begins and you notice the way his voice is whinier than it was, emphasised by another pout that has you letting down your guard for a second — but that’s all he needs when he’s suddenly pulling you down onto the mattress beside him and flopping his weight on top of you afterwards with a huff. “take it back.”

“sei! let me go, we’re gonna be late.” you’re struggling beneath him, playfully batting at his chest despite the way you know better than to try and move him — once nagi was comfortable he was impossible to move, you’d learned the hard way after almost having to drag him to the bathroom with you during movie night because he ‘didn’t wanna move, you were warm.’

but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t just as consuming, feeling him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck as his arms circle back around your waist — keeping you pressed tight against him like you both haven’t just spent forever getting ready.

“nah, ‘m comfy. gimme a kiss first.” his words are muffled as his lips press against the sensitive skin in your neck and you find yourself shuddering at the subtle touch as he pushes himself closer. you’re gonna be late, but you know nagi liked kisses so you decide to humour him if it means he’ll finally listen to you.

“really?” you hum, slightly suspicious as you give the striker a narrow eyed look, but he’s just as clean cut as he always is when he pushes himself up with his forearm to let himself hover over you to reply. “yup.”

so you do, you let your fingers trace their way up his chest before they’re resting around his shoulders — smoothing along the messy hair at the base of nagi’s neck before he’s leaning down to press his lips against yours. it’s quick but soft and you can still taste the remnants of the mint gum hes been chewing on for almost an hour when his lips part slightly — his tongue swiping along your lower lip expectantly before he’s whimpering with the first graze of your own.

it was too easy to get lost in him, your thighs hooking over his hips before he’s shifting his weight onto one arm — the other urging you to wrap around him even tighter as he twists into you, nose pressing against your cheek as he deepens the kiss with another lazy graze of his tongue against your own.

nagi melts as he presses you into the cushions and you almost let him before you realise you’re really running out of time — pushing lightly on his shoulders until he’s pulling away immediately to give you a pink cheeked, soft sort of look.

“done?” you ask and you think it’s cute how drowsy he seems to get on kisses as he leans more of his weight onto his forearm — humming like he’s thinking your question over.

“eh, wasn’t enough. want more, please.” but just as nagi’s words leave him your phone chimes with a text, urging you to fumble across the mattress until you finally find it and see reo’s contact name flash along with the new text.

reo: you guys coming? i’ll send a car if i have to drag you both here, i know the boy genius is why you’re late.

you can hear nagi grumble as his eyes scan quickly over his best friends text followed by a quiet little “hey, what did i do?” before you’re struggling to sit yourself up, realising you need to fix your makeup now too. “we gotta go, sei!”

“can’t get up, ‘m asleep now.”

“oh? so you won’t want more kisses then?” you giggle and it only takes a few moments of silence before you feel nagi’s weight over you ease, followed by a long, drawn out sigh as he sits up to finally grab his socks.

“hm? eh, fine. only cause you look pretty, it’s such a pain.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[ckret2]

Chapter 22 of human Bill's still putting up with being the Mystery Shack's prisoner (title tbd), featuring: Dipper's having nightmares about his spirit floating out of his body, just like the Bipper incident. (He's very sure they're only nightmares.) And Bill, kind and generous muse that he is, would love to help, and definitely isn't offering for secret evil reasons. After all, how could a dream demon benefit from telling his enemies how to control their dreams?

Even though Dipper already knew, intellectually, that dreaming about Bill didn't mean Bill was in his dreams, getting immediate physical proof was a relief. Any time he had another nightmare, all he had to do was get out of bed, go find Bill—sleeping, drinking, reading, meditating, watching TV, staring out a window—and see for himself that there was no way Bill could have been in his head.

So tonight, when he "woke" into another Bipper nightmare, his first instinct was to go gripe at Bill about it.

He'd floated through the bedroom door and hovered halfway down the stairs before he remembered that since he was currently having the Bipper Nightmare, dreaming that he was floating ghostlike outside his body, it meant he wasn't actually awake and he couldn't gripe at the real Bill; but then he decided maybe he'd feel better if he ranted at dream Bill anyway.

The TV glowed from the living room. At this time of night, it could be Abuelita or Bill. Dipper's spectral socked feet settled on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward the sofa—and froze.

Sitting on the sofa, legs curled feet-on-thighs in lotus position, was Bill—and he was surrounded by a brilliant light, yellow-golden against the dream fog gray. Like the halo of sunlight around an eclipse, or like a radioactive mass close enough to melt your eyes, or like an explosion rushing closer. The light danced around Bill like solar flares. Dipper had to squint his eyes against the light.

"Whoa," Dipper said.

The light dimmed to a faint yellow aura as Bill turned toward him. Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin, except that he was already out of his skin. Bill said, "'Whoa' what?"

No one ever saw Dipper during his Bipper nightmares. (But then, he supposed, it made sense if he dreamed that Bill could see him, didn't it? Since he'd been the only one able to see Dipper after he stole his body.) Dipper gestured vaguely at Bill. "You're, uh. Glowing."

"Aw, flattering." Bill laughed. "You look like a zombie trying to figure out if he wants to return to the land of the living. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Ha ha," Dipper said flatly.

"What, another nightmare? Are you here to tell me how your subconscious is my responsibility again?"

"Shut up." Imaginary dream Bill was just as annoying as the real one; but Dipper decided he'd feel pretty dumb for yelling at "Bill" for invading Dipper's dream while Dipper was still dreaming. (Maybe Dipper's subconscious mind was using the form of a snarky Bill to tell Dipper that he needed to seize control of his dreams rather than blame somebody else for them? That Bill might have caused Dipper's recurring nightmares, but only Dipper could do the work to end them? Huh. He'd look into that when he woke up.)

His gaze drifted to the television, which was displaying a man hunched over a bizarrely-angled desk in a black-and-white movie. (He could somehow tell it was black and white, even though colors were already muted and grayish during his Bipper nightmares.) It was like seeing a dream within a dream. "What are you watching?"

"The Counterfeit of Dr. Calligraphy," Bill said. "A hypnotist sends letters to a sleepwalker that have subliminal messages concealed in the handwriting. He brainwashes the sleepwalker into making fake money in his sleep. It's a comedy."

It didn't look very comedic. Dipper wondered how he'd dreamed this plot up. Anxiety about waking up from one dream into another dream, combined with memories of counterfeiting money last summer?

He leaned against the doorframe and watched the movie long enough to confirm it was not, in fact, a comedy, but rather some kind of gloomy noir-ish silent film; then sighed in boredom. His subconscious couldn't even imagine up a fun movie. "I'm going back to my body," he muttered, pushing off the ground and hovering back up the stairs.

Bill, eyes half-lidded, didn't look up from the screen as he sleepily muttered, "Mmkay."

It took a long moment before he said, "You're going to your what?" He leaned out of the living room and looked up the stairs; but Dipper was long gone.

Maybe he'd misheard "bed." He settled back in front of the TV; but he wasn't paying attention to the movie now.

####

"You look exhausted," Mabel said, ruffling Dipper's messy hair with both hands. "Did you stay up late reading again?"

"No," Dipper groaned. "I just slept badly. I had another Bipper nightmare. I dreamed about Bill making fun of me and watching a boring movie."

"Aw, Dipper. I'm sorry," Mabel said sympathetically. She fixed her headband for the day in the bedroom mirror and pulled on her shoes. "I dreamed about a car race where all the drivers are kittens!"

"Oh yeah?"

"It was really intense! Two of the cars crashed," Mabel said. "Everyone was okay though. The drivers were saved by a firetruck with Dalmatian puppy firefighters!"

When they made it down to the kitchen, Bill was already there, sipping burned coffee with his eyes closed. "Hey, twerps." He peeled one eye open a slit just long enough to figure out which set of twerp footsteps belonged to Mabel, and held his coffee mug in her direction. "Top me off?"

"You got it!" Mabel retrieved her pitcher of Mabel Juice from the fridge, refilled Bill's coffee with it, and poured herself a cup.

"What's today's flavor?"

"Blue!"

"That's exactly what I need." Bill took a deep drink, spat a small plastic horse on the table, and sipped more carefully.

"You look exhausted, too." Mabel poured herself a bowl of cereal and milk. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't have nightmares; nightmares have me," Bill said.

Dipper, the person whose nightmares had Bill, scowled and leaned against the stove to wait for Bill to leave so he could get breakfast.

"But no—I was up late watching a German expressionist cinema marathon," Bill went on. "They don't make 'em like that anymore. Which is good, because I prefer my movies with colors and music; but there's nothing quite like watching five movies in a row about going insane in the middle of the night on twenty-four hours without sleep. Second most likely experience to make you see phantom spiders crawl across you skin." He cracked open an eye again and tried to steal Mabel's cereal. She smacked his hand with her spoon and stole it back.

He dragged himself out of his chair to get some proper food. "Get the fridge?" Mabel opened the door for him. As he rummaged around for something appealing, he glanced back over his shoulder at Dipper. "You missed the punchline, by the way."

Dipper started. "The what?"

"On Dr. Calligraphy," Bill said. "You went back to bed before the ending. The sleepwalker's counterfeits are so good that nobody believes the investigator from the treasury when he says they're fakes. He gets hauled to the looney bin—and then realizes the handwriting in all the letters from his boss is the same as the hypnotist's." Bill laughed. "I told you it was a comedy, didn't I?" He dumped some bagels, squirt cheese, and pickled jalapeños on the kitchen counter, then glanced at Dipper again. "What's with that look? Don't you get it?" He sighed and rolled his open eye. "Okay, so the joke is that both the main character and the audience will never know if he was set up, driven insane, or always insane—"

"I didn't go 'back to bed'," Dipper said, stomach twisting. "I—never got out of bed. I didn't watch a movie last night."

"You didn't," Bill said skeptically. And then, studying Dipper's face, repeated, "You didn't?"

Mabel was staring between Dipper and Bill. To Dipper, she said, "Was... that the boring movie in your dream?"

Dipper didn't reply. He didn't want to say anything with Bill listening—not when he didn't know what Bill knew. Or what Bill might have done. Maybe I just heard the movie from upstairs, Dipper thought—and might have believed, if not for the fact that it was a silent film.

Bill was silent for a long moment—longer than Dipper felt safe with. Like a cat sizing up its prey. "Well, how about that," Bill said. His smile was not reassuring. "Looks like Dr. Calligraphy isn't the only one with a sleepwalker on his hands."

####

"Do I sleepwalk?" Dipper demanded.

Bartholomew stared at him in perfect silence. "You can't tell," he said, "on account of the fact that I can't move; but I just did a confused double-take in my head."

"Do I sleepwalk!" Dipper repeated. "I was—I think I was sleepwalking last night—? If I wasn't sleepwalking, then that means Bill was—was in my head somehow, and I don't know how or what he was doing in there—so either he was in my head or I was somehow downstairs, or—I don't know, maybe I was out of my head—but I really need to know which it was, and Mabel was asleep last night so you're the only one who would know—"

"Dipper," Mabel said, shutting the door behind them. "Hold on. If Bill was doing something in your head, why would he just tell you about it at breakfast by spoiling the end of the movie?"

"I don't know!" Dipper said. "To terrify me? To let me know what he can do?"

"But if we know he can do it, that means we can stop him from doing it," Mabel said. "It doesn't make sense—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bartholomew said. "I wasn't up here last night. I was watching a picture show marathon through the living room vent."

Mabel laughed. "You call them picture shows. You're so old."

"'Move-y' sounds stupid and I'm willing to die on this hill."

"Was I there?" Dipper asked. "Did I come downstairs last night?"

"Yeah, during Dr. Calligraphy," Bartholomew said. "I could hear you talking to Bill. You said he was glowing. Which stood out to me as kind of weird, since he's always glowing." 

Dipper heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay. Great. So I was sleepwalking. That's..." He paused, gave Bartholomew a funny look, and said, "Let's... let's unpack the thing about Bill glowing later."

"Suit yourself."

He looked at Mabel. "I was having a Bipper dream. Do you think I always sleepwalk during those dreams? Maybe that's why they're always about me wandering around at night?"

"Maybe?" Mabel shivered. "Augh, does that mean whenever you dreamed about trying to come to me for help, you were actually just standing over my bed watching me sleep?"

Dipper dragged his hands down his face. "Mabel. Sometimes I visited the neighbors' houses."

"Dipper!" Mabel laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. "Have you been walking around in the street in your pajamas?"

"Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe sometimes I'm sleepwalking but sometimes I stay in bed. Last night I really wanted to go yell at Bill, maybe that... got me on my feet?" He dropped onto his bed, chin in his hands.

Mabel sat on her bed with her cereal, and handed over a banana she'd grabbed for Dipper. "We can start locking the bedroom door," she said. "So if you do start sleepwalking, at least you can't get out."

"What if I unlock it in my sleep?"

"Maybe Grunkle Ford could teach me the anti-door curse he put on Bill! And I could cast it on you at night so you can't get out of the room?"

Dipper shook his head. "That's not a long-term solution. What about when we go home? Or what if I need to go to the bathroom?" He gestured emphatically with his banana as he spoke. "I realized something last night, Mabel: I'm sick of these nightmares and I'm sick of just putting up with them. They were bad enough when they were just in my head, but now they have to affect me in real life, too? No! I'm just—not gonna have them anymore."

"Yeah!" Mabel cheered. "I like that attitude! I'm with you. I'm sick of being freaked out by my dreams, too. Do you know how hard it is to rescue kittens from a car crash when you've got to stop and ask yourself if this is a Mabeland thing?"

Dipper hesitated. "Um... probably pretty hard?"

"We'll do it together. We'll both stop having nightmares." She paused. "How?"

"I... don't know yet." Dipper sighed. "Our therapist's given me a few tools to cope with nightmares, but they haven't stopped them. I'm thinking our best bet is magic."

They looked at Bartholomew.

"Sorry," he said. "Outside my wheelhouse. I specialize in creepy dolls and necromancy."

"There's gotta be something in this town," Dipper said. "Maybe dream catchers? Do dream catchers actually work?"

"What about that spell to enter other people's dreams?" Mabel asked. "We could take turns entering each other's dreams to help fight each other's nightmares! That would totally work, right?"

"Except then we'd have to take turns not getting any sleep."

There was a knock on the attic door. Mabel called "Yeah?" and hopped to her feet to open it.

Bill was leaning with his elbow against the doorframe, cheek in his hand, one ankle hooked over the other, grinning broadly. "Couldn't help but overhear that you're having some dream troubles! Here, my card!" He handed Mabel a paper towel on which he'd poorly painted his triangle self with coffee grounds and signed his name in an alien language. "Bill Cipher, professional dream demon—at your service."

Dipper said, "We hung up a 'no solicitors' sign."

"I saw it and I ignored it."

"Bill," Mabel groaned. "Get out of here!" She tried to block him with her arms. 

He dodged around her to enter the room with a laugh like this was some playground game, and then immediately tripped over a cardboard box. He recovered his balance by grappling with Mabel's bag of mini golf clubs and drew one out to use as a cane so smoothly it almost looked like he'd planned it that way. "Hey, hold on—I'm here to help!"

"Right," Dipper scoffed. "Like when you wanted to help me unlock that laptop."

"Or when you offered to help me extend summer."

"Or when you were going to 'help' our dimension 'party'?"

Bill said, "I did extend your summer and I did throw a party."

Dipper asked, "And the laptop?"

"No excuse for that! I was just lying to you, kid." Bill laughed.

"Yeah, no," Mabel said, "we don't want your help. No offense, but your help is super evil. Get out of our room."

"No." Bill plopped down in the middle of the floor, arms and legs crossed, mini golf club lain across his knees, smirking defiantly up at Mabel. "Not until you hear me out."

"No! Go. Scoot. Get out." Mabel attempted to shove him toward the door.

"Try it! I weigh more than both of you combined! Physics is on my side! I'm master of this room."

Mabel only succeeded in knocking him onto his side. Bill prodded her back with the handle of the club and said, "Seriously, just listen to me and then I'll go. I'm more or less the reason you're having nightmares in the first place, aren't I? C'mon! How can I make it up to you if you won't even hear me out?"

Mabel paused in her onslaught. "You wanna make it up to us?" Dipper rolled his eyes.

"Sure, why not? Do you think I wanted to traumatize a couple of kids? You just happened to stumble in the way of a force beyond human comprehension! Hey, I stuck you in a paradise bubble, does that scream 'deliberate attempt at psychological torture' to you?"

"You were going to kill me," Dipper said.

"You even left his suicide letter," Mabel said.

"Which was wrong of me," Bill said patiently, with an air that made it sound like he was the one who had to explain this to them, "but I can't undo that unless you want to give me that time tape you're hoarding. On the other hand, I can do something about the nightmares. Just hear me out."

Dipper had been climbing to the end of his bed to try to get past Bill and escape for adult reinforcements, but stopped to stand on the mattress and glare down at Bill. "And then once we've heard you out, you won't leave until we've accepted your offer—"

"There is no offer," Bill said. "I'm giving you information. No 'deals,' no favors, no magic, nothing. Just information. It's your business what you do with it. If you want to throw it away, I've already done my part!"

Dipper hesitated. "I don't trust you."

"You don't have to trust me. Go verify everything I tell you with someone else. Heck, you can even go ask Stanford about it, he'll back up everything I'm about to say."

The fact that Bill was suggesting he talk to Ford threw Dipper off. He glanced at Mabel to see what she thought.

Bill took the momentary silence as a victory. Smugly, he said, "Lucid dreaming."

Dipper blinked in surprise. "Hey, I know what that is. It's when you're dreaming and know you're dreaming, right?"

"You obviously don't know any more about it than that, or else you wouldn't be having nightmares." Now that Mabel wasn't attacking him and Dipper was actually listening, Bill perched on a crate and crossed an ankle over the other knee, getting comfortable. "Knowing you're asleep is step one of lucid dreaming. The next step is controlling your dreams. If you've fully mastered the techniques of lucid dreaming, you'll essentially be a god inside your own sleeping mind."

"Like we did in Grunkle Stan's head!" Mabel said. "When we beat you with kittens."

"And eye lasers," Dipper added.

"And stomach lasers!"

"And 80s music."

"And hamster balls—"

The corners of Bill's mouth twitched a little further down with each sentence. He forced a smile back on. "Right! Haha! You kids." There was friendly good cheer in his voice and wrath in his eyes. "Exactly like that. Except you weren't asleep at the time. That wasn't lucid dreaming, that was imagining. It's a lot easier to do inside of someone else's dreams. You've got to learn an entirely new set of techniques if you want to do it in your own."

Dipper dropped down to sit on his bed again. "Like what kind of techniques? Does it involve meditating, or...?"

Bill laughed. "And here I thought you didn't trust anything I had to say! What, do you want me to teach you how to do it now?"

"No."

"Didn't think so!" Bill grabbed a sparkly pen off Mabel's bedside stand and a scrap of notepaper off their table. "I'll give you some names of authors. Human authors. Experts on the psychology and spirituality of dreams. And if you don't want to trust these authors because I recommended them, fine, just find their books in the library and anything sorted on the same shelves will teach you the same techniques. But master lucid dreaming, and your dreams will be your playground. No more nightmares."

Bill offered the paper to Mabel, but his smirk was aimed at Dipper. "Just like I promised: no magic. Nothing that could invite the big scary dream demon into your precious little heads. All I'm telling you is where to learn your own species's skills. If you don't believe me, go ask for yourself."

####

Sitting back in the guest room's desk chair, Ford frowned at the list of authors Mabel had handed him and stroked his chin thoughtfully. The kids sat on Ford's bed and waited for him to render judgment on the Latest Bill Nonsense.

"That look doesn't look like a good look," Mabel said. "Is Bill up to something bad?"

"On the contrary, I can't think of any way that your learning how to lucid dream could benefit Bill," Ford said. "In fact, if anything, it would be actively detrimental to him. That's what has me so puzzled."

Dipper asked, "What do you mean, actively detrimental?"

"Lucid dreaming is the first line of defense against Bill's mental tricks," Ford said. "By itself, it isn't enough to drive Bill from a dreamer's head; but instantly telling the difference between dreams and reality takes the power out of most of his simplest psychic illusions." He nodded toward Dipper. "For instance, knowing you were dreaming might have saved you entirely from Bill taking over your body."

Dipper blinked. "Wait. What do you mean?"

Ford stared at him. "The computer," he said. "When Bill waited for you to nod off and used a dream to make you think the computer was going to self-destruct."

"He did what?"

"Dipper, Fiddleford never installed a self-destruct sequence on that computer," Ford said. "I... thought you figured that out?"

Dipper stared at Ford. He slid to the floor, lay down, and stared at the ceiling. Mabel leaned forward to pat his head.

Ford did not let himself grin at Dipper's reaction. Dipper had been through a traumatic experience, and finding out there was something else he personally could have done to avoid it all had to be devastating, and therefore—therefore—his dramatic reaction was not funny.

Ford cleared his throat and politely avoided calling attention to Dipper. "And—actively controlling your own dreams won't prevent Bill from controlling them as well; but it arms you with the same weapons he has—just like when you drove him out of Stanley's head. Plus, if there's anything in your dream you can't control, you can be surer that it's Bill's influence rather than a product of your own subconscious. Which... is what makes it so strange that Bill would suggest you look into lucid dreaming. I'm not sure what to make of that."

"Maybe he just told us to be nice?" Mabel asked. "Maybe he really is trying to fix some of his mistakes."

Dipper raised a brow. "Do you really believe that?"

Mabel briefly looked thoughtful; then cracked up laughing. "Okay, I tried! But nope, not for one second!"

Ford chuckled. "Attagirl." He propped his chin in his hand as he thought. "There's a chance that Bill might not be up to anything actively nefarious. I strongly suspect he can't invade others' dreams in his current form—and if that's true, it might not make any difference to him if you know how to defend yourself against attacks he can't even use. And the only thing he's told you is to go look up lucid dreaming—a technique invented by humans, for humans. He might be trying to ingratiate himself with us by offering up cheap information he suspects you could have found on your own."

Mabel said, "So he told us to be nice, for selfish reasons."

"I think that's the most likely explanation. He likes to offer little scraps of wisdom to his 'students'—and then hold them over your head later." Ford hated the possibility that Bill was trying to adopt his niece and nephew as his newest "students"—Mabel especially—but dancing around the uncomfortable possibility rather than pointing it out would just leave them more vulnerable to his tricks.

"That sounds like him," Mabel sighed. "Like the free birthday cake thing."

Ford tried to remember whether he'd mentioned how he'd gotten his cake when they'd been in Portland. "He told you about that, did he?"

"Yeah. While feeling bad for himself about not getting to go to your birthday party."

"Ha."

Dipper said, "So... you don't think there's any risk in learning how to lucid dream? Except that Bill might start bragging about how good he was to suggest it?"

Ford glanced again over the list of authors Bill had given Mabel. "Well... I don't immediately recognize any of these names; but I can double-check to make sure none of them are affiliated with Bill's known protégés or worshipers. But with that risk aside, I'm sure learning about lucid dreaming would be good for you."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air, startling Ford and Dipper. "Time for Mabeland Two, Electric Boogaloo: Democracy Edition! Founded by the people, for the people, with one hundred percent less psychic police states and zero triangle dictators! All the disco coconuts and yarn castles you already know and love, but this time with open borders and free speech!" She ran from the guest room, opened a door, slammed a door; opened the door again, and yelled, "Grunkle Fooord, can you give us a ride to the library!"

Dipper grimaced and looked at Ford. "Uh... Should we be worried about that?"

Ford considered that with pursed lips, then stood and grabbed his keys. "If she starts napping excessively, let me know so we can stage an intervention."

####

Mabel trudged into the living room, lay face down on the carpet between Bill and the TV, and said, "I hate you."

"Sure," Bill said agreeably.

"I mean it. I really hate you." And she said it with such vitriol, such vehemence, that Bill was absolutely positive she didn't hate him at all and would probably never be able to hate him again.

"All right, I'll play," Bill said. "What did I do this time?"

Mabel held a thick, dusty book over her head. It was titled Sleeping Awake: A Meditation and Study Guide for the Initiate Oneironaut. "You gave me homework over the summer."

"Oh, is that it? That's the limit, is it? That's the worst thing I could possibly do to you."

"Yes," Mabel said to the carpet. "It's completely unforgivable." She paused. She lifted her head. "Um. You... do know we're joking, right? The joke is that we're pretending homework is worse than all the other stuff you did, when it definitely isn't? I'm stiiill not exactly sure what your moral compass looks like."

Bill said, "Relax, kid." Bill did not say that he understood that they were joking. "Here, lemme see how painful this is." He plucked the book from Mabel's hand, flipped through a few pages, and grimaced. "Oh wow. Oh, wow, this is drier than the Atacama. This isn't a 'meditation,' it's a textbook. Do they really spend a whole chapter talking about Frederik van Eeden? Gag me with a spoon." He flipped to the index, muttering, "Does this thing even go into milam, or are they completely reinventing the wheel?"

Mabel propped her chin in her hands. "Is it that bad?"

"Well, at first glance, it's not promising." He flipped toward the middle to skim some of the recommended exercises. "Pfff. I think the closest it'll get you to lucid dreaming is boring you to sleep."

Mabel groaned. "Dipper and I checked out like a dozen books on dreams and that was the least boring-looking one."

Bill shut the book and studied the cover. It showed a lush fantasy world with rainbows and colorful planets in the sky. "You know what they say about judging a book by its cover?"

"I know, I know." Mabel rolled over and flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "I guess I'll try reading one of the other books." She let out a sigh. And then, deciding she hadn't expressed herself properly, she let out an even louder, deeper sigh.

Bill laughed, then considered the cover of Sleeping Awake again. "Ahh, what the heck," he muttered, "what else am I gonna do with myself today?" He waved the book at Mabel. "Hey. What if I read through some of them for you? Let you know which ones are a waste of time and which ones might be helpful?"

Mabel considered that. "Seriously? It's a lot of books and they all look boring."

"Sure, why not? If it's too boring to stand, I'll quit. But oneironautics is one of my specialities, I'll probably find the contents more interesting than you would. And, anyway—" Bill glanced away from Mabel self-consciously, voice dropping a tad, "anyway, I recommended lucid dreaming to fix a problem I caused, didn't I? I get why you kids won't let me teach you how to lucid dream—but it's not fair if I throw a couple names at you, make you do all the hard work, and pat myself on the back for helping out. The least I can do is endure a little boredom."

"Aw, Bill..." Mabel offered him a warm smile.

Bill looked at the ceiling. "Don't look at me like that, jeez. You're a sap, you know that?"

"You're the sap! You're like a tree: all bark on the outside and sap on the inside."

"I'll kill you if you ever say that again."

"I'll be right back!" Mabel sprinted upstairs; and a minute later, trudged back down, carrying a double armload of books. "Here." She dumped them in Bill's lap. A couple spilled on the floor.

"Whoa!" Bill scrambled to catch the escapees, and dropped another one. "Is this all of them?"

"All except the one Dipper's reading. The Encyclopedia of Dreams or something."

"That sounds like a waste of time. There's about as much overlap between dream interpretation and lucid dreaming as there is between astrology and astronomy. But hey, toss it my way when he's done with it. I wanna see what it says about dreams with pyramids and all-seeing eyes."

"Your ego's so big."

"Big as a universe, kid!" He started stacking the books beside him on the sofa, setting aside a promising-looking one that mentioned "Tibetan Dream Yoga" in the subtitle.

"I'll let him know. Thanks for the help, Bill!" Her afternoon now freed up, Mabel went upstairs to call Candy and Grenda and see what they were up to.

Bill listened as her footsteps ascended. He waited to hear the attic bedroom door shut.

And only then did he allow himself a small triumphant giggle.

He adored that girl. She was so trusting. He'd never have gotten his hands on this kind of educational material without her help. Finding her the most short-attention-span-friendly book was the least he could do as thanks; maybe he'd go the extra mile, leave bookmarks on the most useful chapters. Let her know just how good he could be to the people who did what he told them to.

He turned off the TV, cracked open the first book, and settled in to re-teach himself how to control dreams with a human mind.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd really appreciate a comment!)

[reputationmunson]

Hii I was wondering if you could write a Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader where she’s like 2 or 3 years younger than him and she’s in love with him and he knows about it but he pushes her away because of the age gap but when they’re in the upside down she gets hurt and he freaks out and they have an argument and he realizes his feelings for her. Sorry if it’s confusing :) she/her pronouns please

I am so sorry this took me so long! I’m already a perfectionist and then i’m even worse when it comes to requests because i’m scared of disappointing people that request things. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request and being patient!

Bloodshed, Crimson Clover | s.h x fem!reader

content: angsty, mentions of unrequited feelings, reader is 20 and steve is 22, blood/injuries, the upside down, mentions of death, happy ending!, henderson!reader(i made reader adopted so that way there’s no indication that she has to resemble dustin) 

Word count: 2.3k

What is it that causes such an incessant need for someone’s validation? Especially when that person has never even given you an inkling of recognition. 

Is it low self-esteem? Is it to fill a void? Or is it because your “adorable”, “genius” younger brother overshadowed you for the majority of your life? 

If you would get a B+ on a test, Dustin would come home and say he got the highest grade in his class. When you got your driver's license, Dustin had just invented one of his gadgets. Those were just two examples out of many instances. 

You know it was never intentional or malicious. You considered him to be your best friend and your mom always talks about how excited you were about having a baby brother. You were adopted as a baby, but biology never mattered much to you. Your mom was your mom and your brother was your brother. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. 

Your issue with approval didn’t start until your freshman year of high school. When you met him. 

Steve Harrington, to be specific. 

It’s cliche, right? The quiet girl who’s a bit of a loner having a huge, almost embarrassing, crush on the popular guy who practically runs the school. 

Much like the rest of the girls, you fell victim to the fascination of Steve. 

As expected, he never paid much attention to you. There was a time period during sophomore year that he would occasionally copy off your tests in science class. He tried to be subtle about it, but that only made it more obvious. It never bothered you, though. It made you feel special, however silly that sounds. 

Then, the unthinkable happened. your little brother, who was still in middle school at the time, befriended Steve. 

To say it was mind boggling would be an understatement. 

Here you were, spending your first two years of high school trying to get his attention, and out of the blue Steve drives Dustin to a school dance. Ever since then, he became a glorified babysitter and mentor to Dustin. Even now, after all these years since Dustin has grown up, their relationship remained the same. 

“I’m always gonna look out for you, buddy” you once overheard Steve say to your brother, making your heart swell. 

You thought for sure this was going to be your chance to get closer to Steve, maybe you’d be lucky enough for him to fall for you the way you fell for him. A silly school girl crush had turned into a pining, unrequited mess. You felt like a fool the way you would try and put yourself out there, only for him to drift further and further from you. 

“Hey, Steve, wanna watch a movie after you drop Dustin off at the arcade?” you’d ask and he’d reply “Sorry, I can’t. Gotta do laundry tonight” or some other half-assed excuse and pity smile to try and let you down easily. 

The way you acted was cumbersome. Laughing at his jokes too loudly when they weren’t even really that funny, putting on your best outfit when you knew he was coming over, and baking him cookies as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of Dustin. You weren’t subtle about your crush, making it even worse that the feelings weren’t reciprocated. 

At first, you chalked it up to being a sophomore while he was a senior, then being a junior once he graduated. After that, you blamed nothing but yourself. Were you not pretty enough? Not funny enough? Not good enough? Too upfront with how you felt? Too desperate?

The same questions run around your mind almost every night before you fall asleep, hoping that one day maybe it’ll hit him that he wants you just as much or maybe you’ll wake up one day and be over him, which is the more likely option. 

At least it was, until tonight. 

_

“Jesus christ, y/n, you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Steve reprimands for what feels like the thousandth time. His arm supports your waist as your arm is wrapped around his shoulders as you walk into his house.

“So you’ve said” you grunt, barely audible due to the fact you feel like you won’t make it if you use up all your energy to speak. 

_

A gate had opened to the upside down, which you only learned about two years ago. You all thought the gate was closed for good, but alternate dimensions seem to be a bit unpredictable. 

You refused to let Dustin go with you and Steve agreed. Both of you had one thing in common; you’d do anything to protect him. It was only you and Steve that had gone and it wasn’t exactly how you pictured having alone time with him. 

After what felt like hours of going in circles, you strayed from him in an attempt to find your way out and then planned to go back to him then lead the way back home. Steve ran after you, but ended up losing you. 

All of the sudden, the weirdest looking creature you’d ever seen came out of nowhere, scratching and biting at you. You fought hard, finally grabbing hold of your weapon and killing whatever the hell was trying to kill you. 

You laid there for what felt like an eternity, covered in blood with blurry vision and the feeling of slipping away from your body. 

“Oh my god, y/n!” you had heard him shout and he sounded like he was a million miles away. “Nonono, what happened?” he kneeled on the ground, hands flew to try your wounds to try and stop the bleeding

“I tripped” you attempted to joke, hissing in pain when you let out a small chuckle. He didn’t laugh, though. Didn’t even crack a smile. He just looked at you with wide, concerned eyes. “I’m gonna help you stand, okay?”

“I-I c-can’t” you began to sob. “It hurts so bad, Steve”

“I know, I know, but we gotta get you out of here. I’m gonna clean you up and make you feel better, but you gotta stand up” He tries to help you up, but you can’t do it. “Just leave me. You need to get out of here. Please don’t make me move, please” you beg. 

“I can’t lose you, y/n. We can’t lose you. Think about Dustin and your mom and your friends a-and me” you swear it sounds like he’s choking on a sob. What does he mean he can’t lose you? You barely mutter out an ‘okay’ and muster up all of your energy to move. 

Somehow, you escape the hellhole and you don’t remember how you make it back to his house, but you do. You’re battered and bruised, but you're safe with Steve’s arm around you, nonetheless. You’re gonna have to find a way to send the weirdest thank you note to that demonic creature. 

_

Steve runs around the bathroom frantically, gathering every possible first-aid item as you sit on the sink counter. 

“We gotta get you cleaned up first, alright?’’ you give a small nod and he turns the shower on before rushing out of the bathroom, going as quickly as he can so you aren’t left alone too long. 

“Here take these pain pills” he says when he returns, handing you the pills and water. “And I’m gonna put this stool in the shower so you can sit down, okay? Oh, and here are some clean clothes and towels” he’s talking so fast, still in a panic. “M’gonna be fine, Steve. Don’t freak out”

“Can you, um, get undressed by yourself?” he asks, avoiding eye contact. “mhmm” you respond and he helps you down from the counter. “I’m gonna be right outside that door. Let me know when you’re dressed” 

Steve shuts the door behind him and sits on the floor right outside, just like he said he’d do. 

The hot water bites at your wounds, blood and dirt flow down the drain and you can’t stop the tears that start to burst. You almost died tonight, but Steve saved you. He’s still saving you. 

His words echo throughout your mind. “I can’t lose you’’ he had said. Did you hallucinate or something? Did he actually say that? 

On the other side of the door, Steve sits with his head in his hands and trying to quiet his sobs. He’s seen and experienced things unimaginable, but the image of you lying on the ground almost lifeless makes him sick. He thought you were already dead. The feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach hasn’t gone away. 

Steve has never thought of a world without you in it and now that he has, regrets swirl in his head. 

He remembers you in high school. The introverted girl with an obvious crush on him that he never thought twice about because let's be honest, he was no stranger to girls being attracted to him. At the time, Steve only thought of you as the girl two years younger than him who would get flustered everytime he sat next to her in science class.

 As time went on, he knew your feelings never went away, but it took him almost losing you to realize how he feels about you. A world without you in it would be a world not worth being a part of. 

Steve hears the shower turn off and your groan as you get dressed. He quickly wipes his tears and tries to compose himself. 

“Steve” you mutter, voice meek. “Are you dressed?” he asks. “yeah. Can you help me now, please?” he’s never opened a door faster in his life.

Despite the look of defeat on your face, you still look beautiful. Especially in his clothes. 

“Can you sit on the counter?” he asks and you hoist yourself up with a grunt. “I’m gonna lift up your shirt then clean the wounds with rubbing alcohol. Might sting a little” he informs you. 

When the alcohol hits your wounds, you grab Steve’s shoulder and squeeze. “sorry” you mutter. “s’fine. I know this hurts. I don’t mind” he assures you. “If you wanna talk as a distraction, that’s fine. It’s helped me in the past” he suggests. 

“What did you mean when you said you couldn’t lose me?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“I don’t think i said that” he lies. “you did” you counter. “I said everyone else couldn’t lose you” he responds. He’s too scared to tell you how he really feels, even after all this. “Are you really going to argue with a dying person?” “You aren’t dying. You’re fine”

“Then why were you crying?” you argue. “I wasn’t. I’m tired” he lies again. “You’re impossible” you scoff. “I’m impossible? You’re the idiot who ran away and almost got killed!” he exclaims. “I was trying to find a way home!” you defend yourself and he rolls his eyes. 

He stops cleaning your wounds to look at you. “And how did that go? You do understand that you almost died, don’t you? It was so fucking stupid”

“Then why didn’t you just leave me like I asked you to?’

“Dustin would never forgive me” he states. “Is that all?” he hesitates for a second

“Yes” 

“Tell me the truth” you demand. “That is the truth,” he insists. “I don’t believe you”

“Fuck, y/n! What do you want me to say? That if I lost you I would never fucking recover? That if I had to go the rest of my life without hearing the way you laugh, I’d never smile again? Or do you wanna know that the thought of you being gone would kill me and I would never forgive myself. Ever” 

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it or ‘cause you know that’s just wanna hear” you look down at your lap and a tear falls down your cheek. “I’m not and I hate that this is what it took for me to realize that I lo-” he stops himself and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Do you really feel that way?” you whisper and he nods, huffing out a sigh. 

“Can you kiss me?”

“I will once I put the bandages on. I promise” he swears “They can wait. I’ve been waiting for five years”

He rests his hand on your cheek and you try to lean in, but whimper in pain when you move. “Sit still, baby. Let me take care you”

Steve Harrington just called you ‘baby’. If you found out you died and went to heaven, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

Steve leans in slowly, pressing kisses to the corners of your lips before fully placing his lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, feeling the weight of a thousand pounds being lifted off of you. His lips are as soft as you imagined they would be and his hand that cradles your face makes you feel safer than you’ve ever been. 

“I love you” he whispers against your lips “I love you, too. I always have” 

“Way to one up me” he teases. “You better get used to it ‘cause you loooovvvee me” 

“Yeah, I do, so you don’t have to write sad love poems in your diary anymore”

“You read those?!” you gasp and he laughs. “Dustin told me about them. They sounded like shakespeare, you should write a damn book or something”

“Shut up and kiss me again”

He kisses you again and again, only stopping to finish tending to your wounds. When you start to cry over the scars you’re gonna have, he promises that he’s going to kiss and adore them for the rest of your lives. You don’t doubt him for a second

Tonight was equally the worst and best night of your life, but you’d do it all over again for him in a heartbeat.

_

thank you for reading!

_