#I could have malnutrition I suppose

[doomhole]

cw: personal, medical

So a while ago, I started having what is commonly known as "formication", the hallucinatory sensation of having something on your skin, in my case specifically around my mouth. And yeah, I'm a mentally ill trainwreck, but I know my own hallucinatory symptoms, you know? I'm not a skin picker nor have I ever had tactile hallucinations, so this stood out.

Consulting the well-known Doctor Google gave me, besides the usual options (anxiety, panic attack, psychosis), the possibility of a parathyroid dysfunction. Which is something people take supplements for, specifically calcium, vitamin D and magnesium.

So... seeing as that's pretty much harmless to try even if it wouldn't help, I gave it a shot.

Literally three days later, formication gone. Whoo! Parathyroid problem or placebo effect? Who knows, I didn't care, my face stopped feeling weird!

That was like, over a month ago. Now last week, I ran out of those supplements, and being my adhd self, I totally forgot to order new ones, having already mostly forgotten why I took them to begin with.

Guess what it bugging me today.

Yep, it's my old friend, formication around my mouth.

...

I am wondering if I should see an actual doctor about this. Given that this may actually be a real physical issue and not just me being busted in the head as usual.

However, the temptation to just take the supplements again and be done with it is very real. Why would I even have a parathyroid issue? I haven't had neck surgery nor do I have autoimmune disease or a family history of hypoparathyroidism, so my only possible avenues are chronic magnesium deficiency from malnutrition or an undiagnosed endocrine issue. AKA chances are the doctor will just send me home with an eyeroll and a script for antipsychotics.

Even though this could possibly be linked to my hair loss, shit skin and nails, digestive issues, and the inexplicable severe hypertension I already take 3 prescription drugs for.

Anyway, I ordered new pills.

[therandomartmaker]

[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?

[snailcatgenloss]

its gloopy time

okay so like I have had this theory for a while but I had to rewatch the first and second episode of genloss to fully explain it

okay so like gl!slimecicle is OBSESSED with slime right?

he has a ‘secret stash’ gl!ranboo finds in the fridge and gl!slimecicle goes “dont tell anyone I dont like rats!”

why wouldnt he want anyone to know?

well you know how the slime=blood in genloss? (which is canon because of the parallel in the ep.2 episode cover and the operation scene)

what if gl!slimecicle wanted to warn gl!ranboo behind showfalls backs?

he also had skulls and teeth hidden around the basement. he even had an urn (WHICH HE MIGHTVE KNOCKED OVER TO GET RANBOOS ATTENTION !!), and yes its supposed to be a silly joke but what if gl!slimecicle gained consciousness for a bit (or he may have done it subconsciously with the information that the contestants real minds can subtly communicate) and scattered the remains of old contestants to warn them about the gameshows real malicious intent? all of the ‘slime’ was just the blood and guts of the contestants. gl!ranboo didnt realize any of this. this could be a stretch but couldnt frank also have been a skeleton of a past contestant? what if showfall media realized what gl!slimecicle was doing and just made ‘frank’ a part of the show as a joke to distract gl!ranboo? honestly it mightve also been to try and warn himself and or to snap out of it, and it also couldve been to warn and untrance as many people as possible.

gl!sneeg was locked down in the basement for saying no to the game. do you think that gl!slimecicle put him there after saying no because there was a chance he mightve still been a bit conscious and could warn the next contestant? or did he put him there because starving/death of malnutrition is better than getting turned into a showfall slave?

showfall media mightve seen what gl!slimecicle was doing and made him be the operation victim as a form of punishment, and we all know that wasnt just slime. (googoobie 🤯)

alrighty thats one of my few theories about genloss lol

(I wrote this at 4:43 am Im going to finish the second episode and the third then go to sleep)

[rose-pearls]

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend - Part 4

Previous Part - Next Part

It’s a blur, everything is blur since weeks. 

She’s used to it by now, the needle entering her body and memories flying away like they were never there. The screams next to her make her want to throw up but she got used to it, trying to count to ten in her head again and again to get through them.

It’s weird because when she opens her eyes there aren’t any screams, the room is different than the one she has been in the past few weeks probably. There is a door on the side, but she feels too tired to go and open it, her mind trying to understand what is happening. 

The door opens and she tries not to flinch but it’s not successful as the woman in front of her looks at her with a smile full of pity. She sits down on the chair next to her and try as she might she doesn’t remember this woman.

“You are safe in district 13, there was a rescue mission last night.”, the woman explains, and the girl looks at her with wide eyes.

“Haymitch is going to come in any minute now and we will do the check up after that. There are a lot of people that are happy to see you.”, the woman says with a kind smile, the door opens a second later and a man with dirty blond hair appears, looking at her relieved.

“Hi sweetheart, long time no see.”, he looks at her with a tired smile, that seems slightly emotional, but her head is buzzing again. She knows she should remember who he is, but she isn’t able to recall who he is.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”, she asks, and the man looks at her for a moment surprised before taking a step back and looking at the doctor before looking back towards her. 

--

“I’m sorry, who are you?”, it feels like a slap in the face, he doesn’t know what to feel at that moment and as he looks at Katniss’s mother, he sees the same confusion on her face.

“Honey, that is your mentor, Haymitch.”, he hears her whisper softly to the frightened girl, but she just looks at him like she doesn’t know him at all.

“I-I really don’t know who either of you are, I’m sorry.”, Haymitch feels sick, like he might throw up, at the sight of her trembling hands and her pale skin, she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days.

“Why don’t we do a checkup to see if everything is alright?”, he watches the two of them doing the examination and as the results come in, he sees the defeated glance Katniss’s mother has.

“We will be right back.”, she softly whispers to the girl and leads him outside where the rest of the group is anxiously waiting, except one person is missing.

“Where is Katniss?”, he asks quickly, and the rest looks at each other before Johanna rips off the band aid.

“Peeta went nuts when she got into the room, tried to strangle her and everything. Apparently, he thinks that she is a mut and that she is the villain.”, Haymitch feels the migraine coming and the guilt gripping him.

“What the hell did they do to him.”, he whispers under his breath, but Beetee seems to have heard him.

“We suppose they used tracker jacker venom, they probably used it to transform his memories and make him believe that Katniss is the enemy and not Snow.”, he feels like he is going to throw up, once again but he holds it in.

“How is she doing?”, Finnick asks after a moment, his voice just above a whisper and Haymitch doesn’t know what to tell him. He knows that the boy has suffered far too much, and this could be too much for him.

“We first thought she was alright, underweight because of malnutrition and a few bruises along her body but nothing else was found. The blood result just came in and after seeing her reaction when Haymitch and I came in.”, Haymitch doesn’t feel ready to hear what she has to tell them but still he keeps himself upright and turns towards the doctor.

“She is suffering from memory loss; it seems they have used some product to make her lose her memories. We don’t know to what extent but-”, she can’t finish her sentence as Finnick turns around and starts to mumble under his breath.

“No, no, no, that is not possible.”, Haymitch wants to go to the boy but let’s Johanna take over, taking him by the shoulders and whispering some calming words.

“We want to have everyone go into the room one by one and see if she remembers them, that way we can figure it out. Make a list of people she should meet.”, she leaves them there and Haymitch looks around at the defeated faces surrounding him and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Alright let’s get our shit together and start to help that girl in there. Obviously, all of us are going in there, is there anyone else?”, Johanna says while taking a look around the room, taking charge and Haymitch has never felt more grateful.

“Peeta, but we don’t know how we would do that.”, Beetee answers and Johanna nods quickly at his answer.

“We show her a picture and see if anything comes back! Anyone else?”, they all try to think of someone before Finnick’s voice breaks through.

“Gale, Katniss’s cousin.”, Haymitch nods at the answer even if he feels doubtful at the idea of letting that boy in the same room as her. 

“Let’s get this show on the road then, Haymitch you’ve already been in there, so you’re done. I’ll go in right now and we will go down the list.”, the rest of the victor’s nod in agreement before Johanna takes a deep breath, looking at the door with unsure eyes.

“It’s going to be alright.”, he tells her to try and comfort her, but she glares at him before opening the door.

“We both know that’s bullshit.”, she closes the door behind her and the rest of them wait outside. 

Two minutes later Johanna comes out of the room looking pale, wide eyes looking at them with fear before she puts on her mask again.

“Well, she doesn’t seem to remember me.”, she tries to say it sarcastically, but it falls flat, making them all look at the ground. Haymitch knows the both of them had been close, Johanna being the first person to treat her as a real human being and not something fragile.

“Next person then.”, he says while Johanna goes to sit down on the ground, looking deep in thought.

The rest of the afternoon is spent going one after the other, each time having the news that she doesn’t remember them until only Finnick stays over.

“Well, she doesn’t seem to remember me.”, Gale says as he comes out, he seems tired and Haymitch guesses they all look tired. 

“Guess it’s your turn now Finnick.”, Beetee says softly, and the boy looks at the door with fearful eyes.

“You want me to come with you?”, he hears Johanna ask but Finnick declines her offer before going towards the door and entering the room.

--

The room is small, just the bed in the middle and whole cases of medication surrounding her. She is looking small, afraid and Finnick has to stop his memory from going back to that day on the beach.

“Hi.”, he whispers softy, and she turns around to look at him, her usually sparkling eyes are lacking their usual joy and Finnick wants to go over and make sure she is alright, but he stops himself.

“Hi.”, she says while looking unsure.

“I’m sorry you have to go through all of this.”, he says while taking the chair next to her bed.

“Guess it’s part of the healing process.”, a timid smile appears and Finnick can’t stop his heart from beating faster at the sight of it.

“It is. Guess I should ask you the question everyone has asked you already.”, he can barely say the words, but she nods quietly at his words.

They stay in silence, he isn’t able to ask her the question, too scared that she won’t remember him.

“I’m sorry.”, he hears her say and he looks up towards her, seeing her eyes looking at him sadly.

“Why?”, he asks after a few seconds, and she looks at him with glassy eyes.

“Because I can’t manage to remind myself who you are.”, the words are like a knife in his heart, and he tries to breathe again but it seems impossible. Tears are coming up and he quickly tries to avoid letting them fall.

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault.”, he whispers, his voice breaking over the words as he speaks.

He stays there for a few seconds before getting up and going towards the door, stopping when he takes the handle. 

“Seeing you like this and not being able to help you — it breaks my heart.”, he manages to whisper over his shoulder, and he has just the time to see her wide eyes before he opens the door and closes it behind him.

They are all looking at him with various expression before they see his and they all turn sad.

“She- she doesn’t remember.”, he barely manages to say before he feels a few tears leave his eyes. Johanna is by his side in an instant, supporting him while Katniss’s mother enters the room with two pictures in her hand.

He tries to keep it together, waiting for the doctor to come back but it feels like ages before she comes back with a confused expression on her face.

“I just showed her a picture of Katniss and she doesn’t remember her either.”, the group groans at the news but quickly quiet down as she starts talking again, looking unsure.

“I then showed her a picture of Peeta, and she knew immediately who he was. The only person she remembers is Peeta, but the memories associated with him are of what happened in the capitol.”, Finnick feels like he was going to be sick, the only thing she remembers is that they both got tortured.

Everyone leaves after a while and he assures Johanna that he will be fine, he takes a moment to look at the closed door knowing that she is right there but still further away than before. 

After a quick glance he leaves towards his room, not knowing how he was going to survive this without her knowing him.

--

“it’s going to be alright.”, she whispers softly against his chest, but Finnick still holds her tighter. In just a few hours they will try to escape the Capitol for district thirteen, and he can’t help but feel scared.

“Promise me you’ll do your best to come back to me.”, he knows he can’t ask her that, but he can’t help it. She lifts her head off his chest to look at him with her tired but loving eyes.

“You know I can’t promise that, but I’ll try.”, he knows it’s all he can ask for, he brushes a strand of her hair behind her hair enjoying the soft smile that appears at the act.

“I love you.”, he says softly, and she smiles at him before kissing him lovingly.

“I love you too, Finnick. I’ll always come back to you.”, he smiles as she puts her forehead against his and he enjoys the embrace before they have to brave the outside world again.

He enjoys the feeling of her skin against his hands, the slow breaths coming from her lips and the smell of her perfume. He tries to remember every detail of the moment before he has to let go of her.

And as he lays in bed that night, he tries to remember that moment, telling himself she will come back to him. Even if it has to take years, he will be there waiting for her.

Taglist: @nobody7102, @universal-s1ut

[causeitsagame]

UNTITLED ANGSTPROMPT THE FOURTH (OF FOUR)

(At some point, I will find a real title and put it up on AO3. Watch this space!)

My thought when posting the previous chapter: "I don't want to draw out a resolution too far, so I'll promise that there is only one more chapter to go." Me, finishing this chapter while upholding that intention and seeing it brush the 9k word mark: "Well,"

-----

Hajime didn't know what to do.

That wasn't supposed to be possible. He'd been warped and molded and repurposed into the world's Ultimate Goddamn Hope, and that Hope was supposed to have all the answers. But he didn't. He hadn't been able to stop the assault on Jabberwock, and the desperate sacrifice play there had been made by someone else.

Plus, he hadn't even known that particular sacrifice could happen. Talents could only be studied if they were demonstrated, and this wasn't the sort of thing that got shown off to Hope's Peak. And so now, Fuyuhiko was bruised and beaten and hollowed out, and Peko didn't know anything more about how those memories were lost, and Hajime didn't know what to do.

He leaned against the ship's railing and studied the water, unsure of what he was looking for.

Eventually, a voice spoke up. "Hajime?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Ryota. "Yeah?"

Ryota pointed to an insulated travel mug. "It's time for this, again. Do you want to…?" He was the one on the ship who wasn't taken much aback by Fuyuhiko not recognizing him, and he'd made fully half of the infirmary visits so far.

Hajime shook his head. Inside that mug was broth from a pot that Teruteru kept simmering. The calories were important; the warmth, more so. Due to injuries, malnutrition, and low weight, Mikan had diagnosed poikilothermia, or an inability to regulate body temperature. She planned to be in the infirmary constantly until it resolved, and that was a good enough excuse not to be there himself. "No. Thanks."

It probably made him a despicable coward, but he couldn't see Fuyuhiko's condition and know that he was responsible for it. He couldn't watch Fuyuhiko look at him like a total stranger and know that it was because Fuyuhiko had cared more about Hajime than about himself. If Hajime had an idea of what to do next, he'd face down all of that in service of getting it fixed… but he didn't know what to do.

Hajime shook his head again, and Ryota silently walked away.

Memories had been burnt away in torture's incinerator and he was the motivation behind it all. How was he supposed to handle that? Seriously, how in the hell was he supposed to manage his thoughts, his emotions? The gutpunch of nausea that gripped him every time his imagination wandered to the infirmary?

Memory loss aside, this wasn't like Izuru. Fuyuhiko hadn't been scoured away and turned into someone else. Logically, that was a huge relief; emotionally, it somehow made it worse. He was still totally him, voice and expressions and powerful personality. There wasn't anyone to identify and retrieve. He was Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the same as ever… but he just had absolutely no idea who Hajime was.

There were always more tasks to handle on the ship, but no one bothered Hajime as he looked over the edge. He stayed there staring over the water as the sun's reflections moved overhead, and then toward the west.

"Hajime?"

The voice behind him sent a spike of adrenaline rushing. "Is everything okay?"

Mikan nodded, seemingly without any emergency coming along with her. "He's doing better today, I think. But I just… I'm sorry, but I've been with him for twenty-two hours, now. Could you maybe—"

"Oh, God, sorry," Hajime interrupted as he caught up. Now that he bothered to pay attention to anything besides his own misery, he could notice the dark circles under Mikan's eyes and the way her fingertips trembled from exhaustion. He hadn't set foot in the infirmary since the last time she'd taken a sleeping break, and so he hadn't realized how long that'd been.

"No, I'm sorry!" she instantly countered, and held up one of her shaking hands. "I shouldn't need to sleep, but I just nearly dropped a—"

"I've got him," Hajime promised Mikan, and clutched that hand. "Go rest."

She nodded. "I'm only doing a few hours at a time, so I'll be back soon!"

"That's…" Sighing, Hajime let her go. It was probably no use ordering her to look after herself with more than a nap here and there. Well. Time to check on Fuyuhiko.

Peko was waiting outside the infirmary door, and looked as tired as Mikan but far more composed. "You did come," she said with mild surprise.

That hadn't been judgment, but it sure felt like it. "Yeah. Sorry." Hajime ran a hand across his face. "It's just been hard."

"I can only imagine," Peko agreed, with what sounded like real sympathy.

"You look like you could use some sleep, too. I'll be here, if you want to go."

Peko hesitated, but nodded gratefully and stepped away. She turned to look over her shoulder as she left, like she was verifying that Hajime would actually manage to set foot inside the infirmary.

He did so before he could lose his nerve, and was relieved to see Fuyuhiko sleeping. Good. No conversation, no lack of recognition.

First, Hajime reached for a thermometer and aimed it at Fuyuhiko's forehead. Cooler than he should be, so it was no wonder his fists were clenched around a blanket that couldn't keep him warm enough. Hajime reached over and tapped a message window, calling for more hot broth from the galley.

Fuyuhiko was watching him when he turned back.

Hajime jolted, and took a step away before he could help himself.

"So," Fuyuhiko said wryly, and tilted his head toward where his chart hung on the wall. "The guy responsible for all of that." To Mikan's dismay, she'd run out of room when she started listing his injuries. She'd needed to add multiple pages.

Swallowing, Hajime said in a thick, heavy voice, "Yeah. Guess so."

"You never told me why I apparently gave so much of a shit about you. And neither will anyone else." What good humor was in Fuyuhiko's expression flattened into nothing. "You'd think I could get a simple question answered, after everything."

"We…" Hajime looked away. "I'm your best friend." That was the simplest answer.

"Bullshit. I don't have friends."

"Yeah. That's what you told me." It was easier to talk if he didn't meet Fuyuhiko's gaze, and so Hajime kept his attention on the wild landscape beyond the portholes. "But after everything, we were friends. And you realized Peko was actually your friend, too, outside of the clan. And there are other friends here, too. We all care about you."

"'After everything?' After what 'everything?'" Annoyed, Fuyuhiko snapped, "Mind looking at me when I'm talking to you?"

Miserable, Hajime turned back toward Fuyuhiko and the nearly countless injuries he'd taken for Hajime's sake. "After getting away from the… the bad things that you remember. We're all together after that, and we're your friends."

"And you're my 'best friend.'"

"Yeah."

"Who I did this for." Fuyuhiko lifted a forearm, showing off what remained of intricate tattoos. They were marred by a twisted burn scar and jagged, mismatched lines where some deep cuts hadn't healed together in proper alignment.

Hajime closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. "I tried to stop you. You wouldn't listen to me."

"Must've been a reason for it, beyond you being my 'best friend.'" The words came out twisted, mocking. "Why'd I do it?"

"You shouldn't have," Hajime said morosely. "I'm not worth what you went through."

"Not worth it? What, I acted like an idiot when I signed up for this? You're saying that I fucked up?"

Hajime clenched his jaw and didn't respond. He didn't know what to say and every word was just making things worse. The two of them had talked so easily to each other that he didn't know how to handle this reset.

"So," Fuyuhiko said, still with the mocking tone he'd used on Hajime. He looked expectantly toward the new arrival waiting with his latest broth delivery. "Are you one of my best friends, too?"

Hajime turned to the door and winced. Of all people to have gotten that message he'd sent.

Mahiru paused, then said in measured tones, "I wouldn't use that term, no." She stepped into the infirmary and presented Fuyuhiko with his latest meal.

He didn't take the offered mug. "Huh. You're the first person who's had any sort of problem with me," Fuyuhiko noted with genuine curiosity. "Everyone's just been shoveling bullshit to keep me happy. So, what's your deal? What'd you do?"

"What did I do?" Mahiru repeated, uncertain.

"When we were all… y'know."

"Ah. Right." Mahiru set the mug down next to him when he refused to take it. "Propaganda, basically."

"Makes sense. You're…" Fuyuhiko squinted at her, then looked abruptly pleased as his scrambled mind put something into order. "Photography, right? Koizumi?"

She brightened. "Oh! You do remember things. It sounded like you'd forgotten everything, but I guess not. That's great!"

Hajime looked miserably at the floor and said nothing.

"Great?" Fuyuhiko echoed. "I thought you didn't give a shit."

Mahiru perched on the edge of a nearby counter. "We… didn't get along for a long time, but by now, we do. We'll never be each other's first choice to spend time with, but we're honestly fine."

"Fair enough." Fuyuhiko considered her, then asked with a wicked grin, "What happened? You sound like you're dancing around land mines."

Uneasy, Mahiru darted her gaze toward Hajime. "Does he know?" she asked in a strained whisper.

"No, I don't think so," Hajime whispered back. "Probably needed to forget about the whole process."

"What are you two whispering about?" Fuyuhiko demanded.

Mahiru inhaled. "Okay. You're going to find this out, so let me just tell you. To stop being those awful people, we went through a virtual reality simulation. But it went wrong and people started killing each other."

"Virtual," Fuyuhiko repeated without any gravity, clearly picturing some sort of small-scale experience. "So, what, you killed me?"

Mahiru blinked at him hard, then scowled.

Unconcerned, Fuyuhiko corrected to, "Or I killed you?"

"You were going to," Mahiru admitted. "But Peko stepped in."

"Well. Makes sense." Fuyuhiko grinned more broadly and honestly than a face that injured should be able to. "Guess that explains why we're not each other's favorite people, huh?"

Mahiru couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Well, obviously. Anyway, drink your broth. You're supposed to have it while it's hot."

Still smirking at her, Fuyuhiko reached for the insulated mug and lifted it like he was making a toast, then took a drink. She apparently took that as both thanks and farewell, and left the infirmary with light steps.

Hajime stared after her. Fuyuhiko was getting along better with Mahiru than him? Mahiru?! What the hell was going on?

"I'll get some more sleep," Fuyuhiko announced when he'd finished. "So you can stop looking ready to shit yourself."

Hajime could argue with that assessment, but he wouldn't make a very good job of it. With fresh sighs, he stared out the porthole until Fuyuhiko had fallen asleep, then waited aimlessly for Mikan's return.

Days passed like that.

Fuyuhiko's purple bruises faded to green and yellow. Thinner cuts disappeared into barely-there scars, while deeper gouges healed under Mikan's stitches. The hollows under his eyes and cheekbones didn't look quite as cavernous, and he finally managed to sleep through the night without waking up shivering. But he never recognized Hajime.

Hajime Hinata did have a talent that Hope's Peak had never cared about, and that was caring about people. But he wasn't allowed to use it, now. Izuru Kamukura had every talent on the planet. But none of them were any good, here.

He couldn't take this any more, Hajime told himself as he stared at nothing. Fuyuhiko had graduated to actual food, but with the scope of his lingering injuries, he still stayed in the infirmary. That meant that he yet needed to be brought his meals, and once Mahiru had held a successful conversation with him, everyone else was willing to try.

"You lied to me!" Kazuichi insisted. He was next to Fuyuhiko while Hajime stood just outside the door, but voices carried.

Fuyuhiko shrugged and slid a spoon into the thick, hearty stew he'd been handed. "Probably, yeah."

Kazuichi gasped, betrayed.

"You're easy to fool and you panic in a crisis," Fuyuhiko continued. "I remember that much. And you want to believe in people."

Though Kazuichi's offense deepened with the first two additions, the last one softened his outrage. "Well, yeah. I didn't know how you were going to get out of it, but when you said you had a plan to save everyone, I believed you. One hundred percent."

Fuyuhiko smirked. "As expected."

"Jerk," Kazuichi snorted, but the easy back-and-forth had him happier than he'd been ever since they saw the invading forces on the radar. "Hey, so, what else do you remember about me?"

Fuyuhiko made Kazuichi wait until he'd chewed and swallowed a mouthful. "That's a pretty damn big ask. Narrow the scope a little."

"Okay." Kazuichi screwed up his face in thought. "What's the first thing you remember about me after we woke up?"

"Woke up?" Fuyuhiko echoed.

"On the island."

He shrugged. "I got rid of all of that. People have told me there was a program, but I must've thought it was too risky to know about."

"Oh." Dismayed, Kazuichi considered, then tried again. "Uh, okay… what about when I showed up to class in a suit?"

Staring at him for a long, considering moment, Fuyuhiko abruptly laughed. "Fuck, you looked ridiculous. To 'impress Miss Sonia,' right?"

Kazuichi grinned, delighted. "I saw you go off to handle some family business, and you looked a lot cooler than in your uniform. I thought maybe it'd work for me, too."

"It didn't," Fuyuhiko said, then rolled his gaze thoughtfully upward. "Heh. Guess there's more in there than I thought. Even if it's nothing that really matters."

"No, this matters. It matters like you wouldn't believe!" Cheerfully, Kazuichi clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll let you eat, all right?"

"Finally," Fuyuhiko agreed, but with no real rancor.

Still in bright spirits, Kazuichi moved for the door, only to process that Hajime had been listening in with an increasingly gutted expression. "Uh. Sorry, man," he whispered, and hurried down the corridor.

Well. The good news was that Fuyuhiko was feeling better. His pain tolerance was beyond description, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Now that he was on the mend, and his pain steadily ebbed and his body again functioned like it should, his overall mood had followed suit. That'd opened him up to bits of nostalgic connection with the people brave enough to try it.

The bad news, Hajime thought as stepped away to let Fuyuhiko eat in privacy, was exactly the same as ever. To Fuyuhiko, Hajime was still as much of a blank void as what he'd been turned into during the Kamukura Project.

Had Mahiru really been the one to set this off? She'd practically skipped into the mess hall and announced that Fuyuhiko had remembered specifics about her, and that sent a jolt of optimism across the entire group. Which made sense. It was logical. But it still just seemed so odd that she—of all people—had been the first ray of real hope for Fuyuhiko.

Of course, Fuyuhiko had clearly appreciated that Mahiru had been the first 'stranger' to be honest with him about any darker topics. Maybe there was a lesson in that. Hajime waited, and considered, and eventually decided. He steeled his nerves and walked into the infirmary. Without preamble, he asked, "So. You really want to know why you did this for me?"

Fuyuhiko blinked. "Obviously," he said and set aside his empty bowl. Finally, he looked interested in something that Hajime had to say.

How to approach this? "When we were at Hope's Peak," Hajime slowly began, and took a chair near Fuyuhiko, "I got experimented on."

"Experimented?" Fuyuhiko repeated. His brow furrowed. "How?"

"They wanted me to be able to do more things," Hajime summarized, neither wanting to get bogged down in the details nor to relive his own horrors by doing so. "It involved a lot of surgery and some… other stuff."

Fuyuhiko's gaze grew increasingly curious as he studied the scars running across Hajime's forehead. "'Do more things?' What can you do, then?"

"Anything." Fuyuhiko's curiosity and good mood vanished at the seemingly flippant reply, and Hajime insisted, "Seriously, anything. That was the point of the project. Medicine, combat, languages… anything. And they did some physical development work to support all of those talents, too."

Fuyuhiko waited with obvious incredulity, but did look impressed when Hajime reached for a small dentist's mirror and bent its metal handle as easily as if it'd been a plastic straw. "Well, shit. Looks handy."

"Yeah. In theory, I could even try to fix your memories." Fuyuhiko also looked interested in that, but Hajime shook his head. He'd seen an answer to that question very quickly, but it had come with the simultaneous, gutting realization that there was no possible way to get access to what he'd need. And so, it hadn't really been an answer at all. "I can't actually do that," he clarified. "Ten different navies would be on us before we docked the ship."

Disappointed, but not surprised, Fuyuhiko shrugged. I knew what I was in for, the gesture seemed to say.

Hajime hesitated before continuing, trying to straighten out the mirror's handle as he did. His voice was quiet when he did speak. "There were side effects, too. Some… some really bad ones. But the school didn't care what happened. I was just their lab rat."

Silence answered him, hanging painfully heavy. A good ten seconds ticked by on the infirmary's clock. After that pause, Fuyuhiko concluded, "And they probably want their lab rat back."

Hajime looked at the floor and nodded.

"So… this isn't a one-time thing, then," Fuyuhiko slowly continued. "They'll always want to get ahold of you."

Hajime hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Then I'm going to have to do this again."

The words stabbed terror through his heart. "Never," Hajime instantly spat. After a deep breath, he strove for humor, but only sounded agonized as he forced words through his tight throat. "I mean, you don't care about me, right? No need to do anything for me again."

Fuyuhiko's gaze darkened. "If I think something's worth doing, I stick to it. Even if I don't remember why now, I must have had my reasons then."

Fuck it all, why was he so kneejerk stubborn? "They are never, ever getting their hands on you again. I won't let it happen."

"You won't let? I don't take orders from you." Dark memory filled Fuyuhiko's gaze, and he muttered, "I remember being in charge. I was giving the orders. If this is what I decided I need to do…"

The thought of Fuyuhiko getting captured again filled Hajime with panic; the thought of him willingly walking back into hell had him practically delirious with it. "Well, you're not getting past every single person on this ship. We're not letting you throw yourself away again!" By the end, Hajime stood and was nearly shouting.

Instantly obstinate, Fuyuhiko leaned forward, uncaring of the fragile figure he still struck in the hospital bed. "I'd like to see them try and stop me."

A disbelieving laugh broke free. "Oh yeah? Look at you!" Hajime cried before he could help it, and gestured to the mess two months of torture had made of Fuyuhiko. "Say you could actually get past us. You think you could really head back for more?" Even as he said the words, he knew they were a critically wrong move.

Fury sparked behind Fuyuhiko's eye. "What, you think I can't take it?"

"Will you just—"

"Fuck off! From what I've heard from everyone, I'm who saved their asses last time, not you! Me, not some superpowered lab rat!"

Electricity seemed to run down his spine, and words poured out of Hajime before he could stop them. "You know what, Fuyuhiko? No. No, you can't take another round of this. You barely survived this one."

"Don't tell me what I can't do."

"Lose even another couple of kilos again, and you will fall back into poikilothermia and die in a torture chamber. It's not a question." Hajime leaned forward and propped his weight on the side of Fuyuhiko's bed. "You are not taking the bullet for me again. Because—listen carefully—you. Can't. Do. This."

As expected, nothing filled Fuyuhiko with fury like the implication of weakness. This was far from weakness, but was the simple limit of how much any human could take. Even so, it landed as terribly as he knew it would, but Hajime just hadn't been able to stop the words from pouring out. Spending this long mired in misery and guilt had worn away his defenses; hearing that Fuyuhiko was already planning for more torture and certain death lit a fuse.

"Get out," Fuyuhiko spat, looking ready to lunge out of his hospital bed with his hands aimed for Hajime's throat. "And don't let me see your face again."

"Heard that one before," Hajime said tiredly, and walked for the door. Once there, he turned. "You're not going to throw your life away for someone you clearly don't give one single shit about."

"This has nothing to do with you. This is about me and what I decided to do. Now: get out."

Hajime managed to round two corners before the first ragged sob ripped free. He leaned against a wall and wiped away hot, angry tears with a rough swipe of his wrist. Shit. Goddammit.

Trying to be honest with Fuyuhiko had been one bad fucking move.

Soon, he found himself doing engine repairs three months ahead of schedule, just so he'd have something to focus on. His hands stayed busy, his mind stayed quiet, and his heart hid in a corner and didn't dare to speak up. It worked for hours of distraction, but eventually, the dinner chime sounded. He didn't want people to come looking for him, and so Hajime tiredly headed to the mess hall. He'd sit by himself.

Everyone was there, save Fuyuhiko. Nearly all of the people who made up Hajime's world were right here in this one room. It was a dozen different shades of 'loud,' from laughter to arguments to excitement. Looking at them, no one would think the group had been chased from their home mere months earlier.

They probably want their lab rat back.

But they had been chased off Jabberwock, and they'd barely made it out alive. Because Hajime hadn't kept any of these people safe, despite being the military's biggest target.

They probably want their lab rat back.

He'd let that happen to Fuyuhiko.

They probably want their lab rat back.

The soldiers were going to keep coming.

Through dull eyes, Hajime looked around the room and imagined bullets ripping through skulls. The men targeting them planned to kill everyone besides himself, Sonia, and Fuyuhiko, right? And the other two would face torture until their knowledge was wrung dry. (…More torture.)

And what did they have to face those entire military fleets when they did inevitably come? Not a full island chain with its own defensive capabilities, like they'd used last time. No: now they had a ship, singular, and one helicopter. They'd failed before, and now their situation was even worse.

Hajime was pretty sure that he could single-handedly take over another vessel, if it came to that. But he'd need the opportunity to do so. If a battleship or submarine sent a torpedo at them from a kilometer away, he'd never get that chance.

If soldiers came for him again, all of these people would die or end up in torture chambers. Hajime wouldn't be able to stop it. And so, once again, he didn't know what to do.

At the end of his fatalistic survey across the room, Hajime's attention lingered on someone. Memories whispered, almost too softly to hear at first, until he really listened to what they said. His expression shifted slowly, from misery to uncertainty to realization.

Oh. Oh. Of course. He should have seen this sooner.

Nagito only looked up after the lightbulb had gone off. He blinked in confusion over Hajime blatantly staring at him, and gestured to himself like he expected a question to be asked. Hajime shook his head once. No need to ask a question; Nagito had already given him an answer.

Yes. Right.

That had been the answer, all along.

He just hadn't wanted to admit what was being asked of him.

At the end of his brief dinner, Hajime stood and walked over to another table. "I'm taking the chopper," he whispered to the Imposter. "I'll be back later."

That earned a confused blink. "What's happening? Do you need a co-pilot?"

"No. It'll be quick, I'll be back by morning. I just didn't want you to wonder where it was."

"All right." The answer was uncertain, but Hajime didn't bother offering reassurance or clarification as he walked off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nagito hurry over to talk to the Imposter. "The helicopter?" Nagito repeated with surprise, and Hajime sped his pace. He didn't want to deal with any sort of explanation.

Soon, the helicopter lifted smoothly off its landing pad under his controls. He tilted it toward the southeast, and as he circled around, noticed that he was being observed by a white head of hair dyed the colors of sunset. Hajime returned his attention to the sky and flew onward.

Two hours later, he descended toward a pitch-black expanse carved out of another forest. There were many such abandoned military bases around the world, and with a global power shortage, they weren't bothering to keep the lights on. Many of the supplies here had been carried off, but not all; they'd gotten the helicopter he was flying from this same base, along with enough replacement parts to last them a decade.

Using only moonlight and starlight, Hajime located a runway and used it as a landing pad. As he hopped out of the craft and to the ground, he hoped that the Canadian forces hadn't carried off what he needed as they pulled back to defend Vancouver.

Cracks ran across the tarmac, and weeds pushed through. Once, this had been a world-class facility for world-class soldiers, but so much had been abandoned when half the world fell. Those soldiers were now after him, Hajime reminded himself. They were after his friends. And they had hurt one friend in ways that he couldn't even describe.

Steeling his resolve, Hajime hurried through the crisp, chill darkness in search of a way to stop all of those soldiers from ever getting a second chance. His light, precise footsteps echoed across the sprawling pavement and between the concrete buildings. Only the soft cries of nearby owls interrupted him. This once-bustling base was silent, now, and the natural world was beginning to reclaim what humanity had abandoned.

Aha, Hajime saw as he trailed heavy cables across the ground and found the control box that collected them. It was attached to a concrete block of a building, unlabeled and unremarkable. Here it was. Not bothering with niceties, he kicked at the door like he was trying to drive in someone's chest, and proceeded inside when it wrenched off its hinges.

Relief soon swept him. Yes. They'd left behind exactly what he needed.

With the assistance of a few spare duffel bags, Hajime began scooping up every piece of abandoned telecommunications equipment left in this control room. Their group had been using that slow, secretive frequency, but it was time to take a different approach. Trying to duck down and hide in the shadows, as they'd been doing, could only protect them for so long. Hajime refused to be the prey again, left to be tracked and discovered.

As he exited the building, a gust of wind whipped past and caught a tattered flag left on its pole. Red and white. For a moment, Hajime was back walking through the ruins of military bases with a red sun flying over them, rather than a maple leaf. Those were the soldiers most desperate to find him. Although they had allies around the world who also sought the Remnants, it was Japanese forces who'd led the assault on Jabberwock and captured Fuyuhiko.

They'd regret that.

Confident that he'd found all that he needed, Hajime loaded the duffel bags into the helicopter, refueled, and set back off for their hiding place near the Alaskan Panhandle. There were still hours of darkness left when he landed. He should sleep, first, to make sure he had a clear head. He was trying to change the world, after all.

Well into morning, his efforts were going well. Hajime had taken over the control cabin of the ship, as he needed access to some of its systems. His in-progress work with the military electronics he'd raided already covered half the room.

"Hajime?" Nagito asked as he stepped into the control room.

He didn't look up from his work. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

Still studying the electronics in front of him, Hajime smiled. It might be a dark, unbalanced expression. Nagito's behavior inside the simulation had served as his inspiration, after all. "You'd probably say something about 'creating hope.'"

Silence. Then, "Whose hope?"

That earned another smile. "Good question." Nagito didn't say anything else, but neither did he leave. Eventually, Hajime continued, "Nagito. I want to ask you something. About the Funhouse. When you learned the truth about us, what ran through your head?"

Those soldiers on Jabberwock had come hunting for Hajime, and they didn't care who they'd hurt in the process. No, that wasn't right: they'd come hunting for Hajime, and they would gleefully slaughter most of his friends if they got the chance. Those who they didn't slaughter, they'd torture.

And not just torture, Hajime knew as he thought about what was left of Fuyuhiko, but destroy. Utterly. The so-called good guys would rip out everything that made up the people he cared about. Those men who'd come for Hajime and the men who'd done this to Fuyuhiko could make zero claim at being on the side of good, despite all claims to the contrary.

Nagito's concern deepened at the seeming non sequitur, but he still didn't try to pull Hajime away from whatever he was working on. After that long pause, he answered, "I had to stop everyone. Before you hurt anyone else."

"Right. Exactly." Hajime reached for a wire and stripped its coating. "You asked whose hope I'm creating, so: our hope. I apparently have to pick, and so I pick our hope." He'd might have been created as the world's hope, but his world had been reduced to the people on this ship.

There was another long pause from the man at the door. Hajime wondered if Nagito would demand to know exactly what he was planning, or would spout off more speeches about how the entire world's hope rested in his hands. But no. After that aching pause, Nagito simply murmured, "I understand" and turned, closing the door behind him.

Hajime nodded and leaned back in to his work.

It took him eight days, and he barely left the room until he was done. Fuyuhiko was probably relieved about that.

At the end of those eight days, when Hajime was sure that his plan would work, he walked to the infirmary and was surprised to find it empty. A quick check of the roster told him that Fuyuhiko had moved to a normal room, right next to Peko's, and Hajime headed there with purpose. Even if Fuyuhiko connected with every other person on this ship better than with Hajime, it was doubtful he'd willingly spend much time socializing.

As expected, the door opened, and the face behind it wasn't happy. "Well," Fuyuhiko said shortly, and studied him. He looked much healthier than before; once he'd made it through the worst stretch, he'd apparently improved rapidly. A thick sweater appeared to be enough to keep him warm. "You listened to me for a week, at least."

Right. Fuyuhiko didn't want to see his face again. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing something for you on deck as soon as it gets dark," Hajime levelly said. "You don't have to come. But if you look through the porthole and wonder what you're seeing, you'll know what's up."

Fuyuhiko blinked. "Huh? The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry about it."

"If you're doing something for me," Fuyuhiko snapped, "without my permission, then I'm gonna fuckin' worry!"

"So, we're talking about asking the other person's permission, now?" Hajime said, and didn't try to soften how pointed the words were. "Anyway. You can come if you want, or not." He turned and left without further explanation, leaving Fuyuhiko blinking behind him.

Even if Fuyuhiko hated him, and even if he never wanted to see Hajime again, Hajime was his best friend. He was going to take care of Fuyuhiko and stop what had happened from ever, ever repeating.

Whether Fuyuhiko wanted him to or not.

And he was going to protect everyone else, too, Hajime calmly told himself as they joined him on the deck. Those soldiers never should have been able to sneak up on them, and the local radar never should had been the first warning sign they had. If he'd protected his friends to begin with, none of this would have happened.

Confusion ran wild. All everyone knew was that Hajime was working on something supposedly important, with components taken from a military base, but there were no weapons to be seen. He didn't look aggressive, either; if anything, he looked eerily calm as he stared up at the sky.

"Mind clueing us in?" Akane demanded, hugging herself tightly. She treated the cold as an opponent, and she always hated to admit defeat. At least she'd relented into putting on a pair of sweatpants, but she still refused to wear a coat.

Hajime smiled slightly at the sight, and of everything he knew of her. He'd protect her, too, like he'd failed to do on Jabberwock.

"Seriously," Hiyoko complained. She too had resisted dressing for the increasingly cold weather, but she'd finally given in at the first dusting of snow. As Mahiru leaned over to pull her in to a warmth-sharing hug, Hiyoko wondered, "What have you even been doing, anyway? Did your big fight with Fuyuhiko make you turn tail and hide for that long?"

It probably wasn't a surprise that secrets spread quickly within tight quarters. "Simple," Hajime said, and looked back up at the night sky. "I'm doing what I should have done before all of this happened in the first place: protecting everyone."

"How?" Kazuichi asked, audibly nervous. "Didn't you go to, uh…"

"A military base?" Nagito concluded. He wasn't outright nervous like Kazuichi, of course, but even he sounded at least apprehensive about Hajime's uncharacteristic behavior and whatever he'd left him to do in that room. Nagito sounding even mildly concerned about something managed to unnerve Ryota and Teruteru, too.

"Yes."

Hajime's blunt answer did nothing to soothe their nerves, and the group looked between themselves.

Sonia gathered her courage and stepped forward. "Hajime, when the five of us chose to shut down the program, we did so for the safety of the world. You musn't—" Her voice faltered when his attention turned toward her.

Hajime could only imagine what his expression looked like, right now. Those soldiers had come in search of Izuru Kamukura. After what they'd done to the people he cared about, they'd found him.

She collected her courage and tried again. "You mustn't hurt anyone, Hajime."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone," he said like it was self-evident. That lack of trust should have hurt, but he distantly realized that his voice had indeed gone flat, all its emotional affectation falling away. It had been a very, very long stretch of months. Feelings had failed him over and over again as they went on, and now, he just needed to fix these problems before they could happen again.

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

The voice sliced through Hajime's disaffected thoughts, and he blinked with surprise. Fuyuhiko stood near the stairs, ready to return below deck in an instant, but he was there.

"Sorry, Fuyuhiko," Hajime said as all of those squelched emotions rushed back into him like surging floodwaters, and he flexed his hand around the small controller it held. "I know you said you didn't want me making this decision for you. Well. I'm gonna."

"Huh?" Fuyuhiko asked, too confused to be angry.

Turning back to the sky, Hajime inhaled.

He was about to end the world.

Again.

Before he could talk himself out of this, his thumb clicked the button to confirm the algorithm he'd spent a week building. Humanity's greatest genius had used a modified satellite phone taken from the Canadian base to hack into every government and military system left in this broken world, and slithered into their cracks and shadows. After that, he'd started calculating angles and vectors and control mechanisms. And now, he'd just put all of those controls into effect.

There was a full minute of wary silence as they waited for anything to happen, finally broken by Nagito wondering, "Hajime… what did you do?"

"I'm not hurting anyone," he calmly repeated. "I'm just going to stop them before they hurt anyone else."

Nagito still looked unsettled, especially at the echo of his own words, but said nothing more.

As Hajime looked up at the sky and waited, his breath suddenly caught as he realized Fuyuhiko had walked up next to him. Though his tight expression demanded answers, Hajime could only say, "I owe you this."

"Owe me what, exact… ly…" Fuyuhiko's question trailed off into nothing as a spectacular streak of light burned across the sky.

A few people gasped. Realizing what they must be thinking, Hajime said, "It's not a missile. Don't worry. But keep watching."

Another streak of light blazed overhead, then a third. And then, suddenly, it became a waterfall of shining, gleaming color tearing apart the night sky. A meteor shower like the Perseids might see a hundred so-called falling stars in an hour. This was thousands of points of light, in minutes.

It was beautiful. Even though he'd known what was about to happen, Hajime couldn't help but stare up in awe at the choir of light singing an intricate melody overhead. Runs, chords, arpeggios; the glimmering lines wrote out a song that had never been seen in the history of the world, and would never be seen again.

"What did you do?" Fuyuhiko asked in an amazed whisper as he stared up at the glorious show above.

"I owe you this," Hajime repeated, also in a whisper, then stayed silent until calm, dark night finally returned.

A few final streaks of light followed their brethren down to earth. Only when they were sure that no more would follow did everyone turn to Hajime. Every last face demanded answers.

For it, he held up his hand to show off the small controller held in his palm.

"They had… that at the military base?" Kazuichi asked weakly.

"No." Hajime smiled as genuine relief swept him, like he hadn't felt for a very long time. "It just set off my algorithm."

"Which did what?" Peko prompted.

"Directed ninety-three percent of all functioning satellites out of orbit. And I now control the other seven percent."

That took a moment to sink in, then earned a collective gasp. "Those were satellites?" Mahiru demanded. "Like, television and internet and phone satellites?"

Hajime looked back up at a now-empty sky. "Like spy satellites. Like military targeting and attack satellites. They're never going to find any of you again. And with the ones I kept, I'll know if they even make an attempt. It'll be impossible to take us by surprise, ever again."

Overwhelmed, Sonia clutched her forehead. "Every telecommunications network around the world just collapsed." Gundham stared at Hajime like he'd wielded some dark magical powers to put on that spectacular display.

"Not every one," Hajime calmly countered. "Land-based towers will still work fine, and there are plenty of those. And I spent the last four days making sure that no satellites would angle toward populated areas, just in case they didn't burn up. No one was hurt. Which is a lot more than those soldiers can say.

"I didn't hurt anyone," he repeated in the silence. "But… I realized that I had to decide who I'm protecting, actively. And I picked you."

Aware of the stunned figure still standing at his side, Hajime quietly repeated, "I picked you. You won't have to do it again. And I'll stop talking to you, now."

Fuyuhiko's eye opened as wide as Hajime had ever seen it, and he looked up to stare again at the heavens that had been ripped down to keep him safe.

"All right. That's it." Hajime smiled. "Show's over. If we want, we could set sail tomorrow. They're never going to find us again."

He didn't know whether to expect it or not, but a knock came on his cabin door an hour later. When Hajime opened it, Fuyuhiko met his gaze for only a couple of seconds before studying the floor between them. "What in the hell was… I didn't ask for that."

"I know. But I owed you that much, Fuyuhiko. If I had done what I was capable of early enough, then you wouldn't have been forced into doing what you were capable of. I screwed up, so now I fixed it."

"When they figure out what happened, you're just going to be even more of a target," Fuyuhiko muttered. "Biggest bad guy on the planet."

He shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. "Already am, right?"

Fuyuhiko snorted slightly, but admitted, "Who��� made his project take twice as long, so that he wouldn't hurt people. I would've just figured that everything would burn up."

"None of us want to hurt people," Hajime agreed, and instinctively raised his hand toward the fresh, deeper scar that had been carved across Fuyuhiko's bad eye. He caught himself halfway there and lowered his hand. "But the 'good guys' apparently can't say the same. So I picked us. And I don't regret it. They won't be able to see or hear us well enough to find us, any more, and so you'll never have to do that again."

For once, the silence between them seemed comfortable, like it had been before, when they could sit in each other's presence and not feel the immediate need to fill the quiet. In that quiet, Hajime was finally able to think of the right thing to say. "Don't think of this as coming from a friend. We apparently can't be that, any more. But I owed you a debt, and I needed to repay it."

Fuyuhiko studied him, clearly aware that Hajime had deliberately chosen language from Fuyuhiko's world, and seemed to consider him anew. Maybe, just maybe, they did understand each other, despite all this time seeming to say otherwise. "Hey. Lab rat."

"Don't call me that," Hajime instantly countered.

Not bothering to apologize, Fuyuhiko continued, "So, you just took out every way for militaries to track us, right? Plan offensive maneuvers? Organize their fleets?" After getting a nod at each question, he slowly finished, "Then… didn't you say you'd thought of something that might fix my memories, if only you could get past the military?"

Everything went still, and Hajime's eyes opened wide as he realized what he'd accidentally done as part of his plan.

"I just…" Troubled, Fuyuhiko tried a few times to finish his thoughts. "What you did up there tonight, I…" He shifted his weight. "I guess you finally made me curious about caring that damn much."

Hajime gripped his hand before he could help it. "Okay. Before we sail back there, I need to know if they would have gone back to look inside a specific building. I don't think you do, but do you know anything about something called the Neo World Program? Anything at all?"

Fuyuhiko blinked back at him with a total lack of recognition. "That's a dumbass name."

With a crow of delighted laughter over the confirmation that Fuyuhiko had never told them a thing, Hajime unthinkingly drew him into a hug.

"Get off me!" Fuyuhiko spat, his good mood gone.

"Sorry," Hajime chuckled, and stepped away. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"If you try to act like a friend who hugs me," Fuyuhiko muttered, "I'm gonna change my mind about this."

Hajime held up his hands. "Right. No hugs. Sorry."

"Okay. Glad we've gotten that straightened out." Fuyuhiko cleared his throat. "We're not friends. You've just got me curious. That's it."

"Absolutely," Hajime agreed. "That's it."

"Well. Okay. Right." Fuyuhiko hesitated a moment longer, then turned and walked off without a good-bye.

Hajime watched him leave, then turned and flat-out ran the other direction, toward the stairs. It was time to weigh anchor, and he'd figure out the safest path back toward Jabberwock once they were in motion. That would be easy enough; they still had access to all remaining navigational and spy satellites, after all, while every single one of their enemies had just been thrown back into navigating by compass and map.

Eighteen days later, they were back.

Everyone looked wistfully at the familiar beaches and palm trees. Even if they'd blinded the world's militaries, it was too dangerous to stay permanently in this known location. They could make return trips to strip the islands of what supplies they had to offer, but this wasn't home, any more.

"Come on," Hajime said, and gestured to the dock. "In there."

Fuyuhiko looked warily toward the central administration building; familiar to Hajime, but an unknown location to him. "What are we doing, exactly? You said this is where that virtual game thing happened, but I'm not doing that again, am I?"

He shook his head as they set into motion. "No. In a worst-case scenario, I can look for the same memory files that were generated when the simulation ran before. That wouldn't be… ideal, since it'd have some holes and nothing past when we woke up, but it'd be better than now." And Fuyuhiko would be balanced on the edge of Ultimate Despair, again, but they could all pull him off the ledge in the right direction.

"Okay," Fuyuhiko said, clearly troubled, but making the active decision to trust Hajime. "What's the best-case scenario, then? How would you get the memories back, otherwise?"

"I don't think they're actually gone," Hajime theorized.

That earned a dark look. "I'm pretty damn sure I knew what I was doing, there."

"You absolutely cannot reach those memories," Hajime quickly agreed. "Which kept those guys from being able to, either. But, it's like… imagine two buildings with a road between them. When you told me about what you did, I realized that I don't think you blew up the buildings. They're still there. I think you just blew up the road, so there's no way to access them."

"Okay," Fuyuhiko said uncertainly. "What's the difference, then, in fixing them?"

"Cognitive psychology studies retrieval methods for information that has been stored in long-term memory." The formal explanation quickly earned annoyance, and Hajime changed to, "You changed your associations with them, so you can't pull your memories out. You blew up the road, in other words. But there are pods—" Please, let the pods still be there. "That are specifically designed to deal with memories. I'm positive I can tweak them to zero in on fixing your retrieval processes. I won't need to actually rebuild any memories. I'll just need to fix the roads."

"Makes sense," Fuyuhiko said, but sounded even more uncertain as the details poured in. "So, I'm going to get into a weird memory pod that was used to lock me into a killing game, and you're gonna fuck with my brain. Like the pod already did, once."

"That's." Hajime paused, then held back a grimace. "Yeah. I wouldn't use those words, but… that's technically accurate, yeah."

Fuyuhiko looked to the side, and Hajime realized someone had followed them to the building. "What do you think?"

"It's as I've been telling you, all this time." Peko nodded. "You can trust Hajime."

Fuyuhiko stared at the building looming overhead, then sighed. "Fuck it." He pushed his way inside, not waiting for them to follow.

When Hajime moved to do so, a hand caught his wrist. "Thank you," Peko whispered, with a rare smile.

He smiled, too. "You got him out."

"And you'll get him back." She stepped back, releasing his wrist. "I won't keep you. But truly: thank you."

Nodding, Hajime reached over and squeezed her wrist before he followed Fuyuhiko inside. He found Fuyuhiko in the lobby, looking critically at the looming statue representing the five islands; he hadn't known which hallway to use after entering. Hajime led him down a path that they'd walked countless times while working on their sleeping friends, and kept glancing at him to see if any recognition flickered.

None did, but that might also have been because of how focused he was on assessing the space around them. "No signs of forced entry anywhere," Fuyuhiko mused. "And there's dust."

"It doesn't look like anyone's been down here," Hajime agreed, but his pulse sped as they approached the final corridor. He took and held a deep breath as he pushed open the door in question.

The pods were still there.

His lungs emptied, and Hajime's heart lurched back into regular motion. "Okay," he said, and tried to not let on how worried he'd been that they might come all this way only to find that the military had carried off the island's heart. "Pick a pod."

Fuyuhiko eyed him oddly—Hajime's nerves had clearly come through—but he shrugged and walked over to the pod nearest to the main control panel. "So, I just…?"

"You just get in," Hajime confirmed, and tapped the pod's panel to open it.

Needing another few contemplative moments, Fuyuhiko let out a whooshing breath, nodded, and climbed into the empty pod. "Don't fuck up, lab rat."

"Don't call me that," Hajime reminded him, hopefully for the last time, and tapped the controls to close the pod. Inside, Fuyuhiko watched him through its fogged glass, then abruptly dropped into unconsciousness as its effects took hold.

Okay. Time to be someone's Ultimate Hope, again.

Hajime's fingers flew across the controls as he worked on repurposing the intricate code of the Neo World Program. Software code and neurological structures both reshaped under his expert hands, but it wasn't a quick process. He'd reprogrammed the world's satellites, but reprogramming Fuyuhiko's brain felt infinitely more consequential.

Eventually, he had to activate the program and turn it over to the machine. It was out of his hands, now, and he could only wait, watch, and hope. Eighty-seven anxious minutes later, a light turned from green to white. The program had ended.

Fear and anticipation filled him in equal measure. He was almost sure this would work, but if it didn't, Hajime didn't have another plan. It would work, right? It would work. It would work. It had to work, he told himself as he reached for the pod's controls and tapped OPEN. It had to work.

The pod door slowly opened, and Fuyuhiko's eyelid followed.

Hajime leaned over him, realizing his own hands were shaking. "H-hey." He swallowed, feeling suddenly weighed down by the gravity of this moment. Either he was about to get Fuyuhiko back, or it would prove impossible. "How'd it go?"

Fuyuhiko blinked at him once. Twice.

Hajime looked down, and again swallowed hard.

Abruptly, Fuyuhiko lunged halfway out of the pod and grabbed Hajime by his shirt collar. "You asshole! I told you not to bother!"

"You told me?" Hajime repeated with a tremulous, hopeful voice.

"All of those fucking satellites? They're gonna know it was you!"

He swallowed. "And who am I?"

Fuyuhiko's lower lip quivered. "Hajime Hinata. The world's biggest idiot."

Delirious joy overtook Hajime, and he leaned in for a hug that lifted Fuyuhiko the rest of the way out of his pod. One arm wrapped around the other man's back, holding him close, while his other hand rested along the curve of Fuyuhiko's head. "You're the idiot," Hajime laughed, and rested his face against Fuyuhiko's.

"Fuck you," Fuyuhiko snorted, and wrapped his arms around Hajime in return, allowing himself to be held like he seldom did. "My plan worked great."

"Well, so did mine." Hajime's grip tightened, though he remembered in time that Fuyuhiko still had deep injuries lurking inside. "I picked you. Just like you picked me."

Fuyuhiko tried to say something, but failed.

"Thank you," Hajime whispered. Now that sun had returned to his world, he could admit to what fate Fuyuhiko had saved him from. "God, thank you. Never do that again. Never."

"That's the plan," Fuyuhiko whispered, and laughed once. It faded into a soft, twisted noise. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"And you do. You see me. Right?"

"Yeah." Fuyuhiko nodded against him. "I do."

Ultimate Hope felt like a worthwhile title, suddenly. "Come on," Hajime eventually said. He didn't let go of Fuyuhiko, though, and Fuyuhiko didn't step away. "Let's figure out what home's going to be, now."

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 2)

Masterpost, Part 1

Platonic Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-Insert (with glasses)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior and yes, the kidnapping is still actively occurring. If yandere content disturbs or otherwise unsettles you, I deeply suggest you do not read this series and block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as "one piece yandere". Though mostly framed in a humorous way, it is still very toxic and problematic behavior that you should, in no way, entertain in real life from anyone.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Word Count: 1,540 (would be longer, but I didn't want to have this transitionary chapter be squished in with meeting Whitebeard and settling in)

When you became a marine, you had considered what you would do if you ran afoul of pirates. Assuming they didn’t kill you outright, that is.

In none of these imagined scenarios did you picture yourself awkwardly curled up in a med bay on one of the ‘junior’ Moby Dicks. As it turns out, Fire Fist and The Phoenix were running a small supply run simultaneously to another junior vessel since none of the surrounding islands could accommodate the Moby Dick herself—the Yonko ship being so absolutely massive for her crew and captain. A young man with a blue mask over his eyes ‘Masked Deuce’ was wiping your face and inspecting your nose for any damage that hadn’t been healed with a critical eye. Fire Fist was somewhere else—likely getting food for himself if his gluttonous behavior was any indication—while The Phoenix appeared to be starting your medical file.

That… was probably not good. The slim possibility that you were going to just be ransomed seemed to dissolve with every scratch of ink he added.

“Well, aside from some possible malnutrition and exhaustion, you seem in good shape. Not what I’d expect of a marine in these parts, though I guess they didn’t care too much about your physical condition.” Deuce placed a firm hand on your shoulder and smiled. “If you’re interested, we can get you into good shape in no time! Or maybe you’re interested in pursuing something else? Oyaji has plenty of resources we can use.” You couldn’t help but grimace and tug on your hat.

“I uh… I’m a marine?” You said, wincing at the questioning tone. “I didn’t enlist for the uniform, you know… I… I’m supposed to try and arrest pirates. Not… join them.” You explained awkwardly. Deuce just laughed while The Phoenix snorted softly.

“Everyone adjusts differently. You’ll love it here eventually.” Deuce winked before handing you a set of clothes to change into. The shirt was emblazoned with Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger.

You were rather at a loss for words. You… well, you couldn’t exactly fight them. You knew that. But you felt rather like the world had tilted dramatically the other way on it’s axis while you weren’t looking. The only way this could get more bizarre is if Fleet Admiral Sengoku called you and congratulated you for the successful adoption and your new, very criminal, pirate-Yonko family.

“Bring-ring. Bring-ring. Bring-ring.”

Oh god, you weren’t ready!? Please no?!

Horrified, you scrambled to pull the snail from your pocket, The Phoenix sliding up and leaning on the bed as you answered.

“Ensign—”

“Where the hell are you?! Ensign Williams was found, thoroughly beaten mind you, on the ground! You were assigned to be his partner!” You almost wept with relief that you were just getting torn a new one.

“A-Ah—W-Well, I-I attempted to flee with Ensign Williams when The Phoenix was spotted with Fire Fist but was… very unsuccessful.” You admitted lamely as one of the men responsible for your plight gave a placid smile, his eyes fixed on you with a horrifying intensity. Though you had no idea what for. If he was pissed you answered, he was more than welcome to take the call himself at this point.

“And why not, Ensign?! Your orders were quite clear!”

“Because I was captured instead?” The snail sputtered.

“Then escape and return to base!” The operator screamed. You were nearly in tears, your day successfully having gone from bad to absolutely the fucking worst.

“How?!” You whispered in horror, practically seeing the dry response in The Phoenix’s eyes.

Run and I will scoop you up with my talons and fly you all the way to Oyaji myself.

The receiver was plucked from your hands and you were torn between thanking your captor or trying to get it back. In the end, you did neither.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Feel free to mail us their last paycheck because they won’t be returning. Consider this their resignation.” The snail blanched.

“On who’s authority, you filthy pirate!”

The Phoenix grinned, all teeth and eyes narrow, sapphire slits.

“Their new big brother.”

It would almost be inspiring how confident he sounded if he didn’t say it like he was declaring that your kidney would taste delightfully delicious.

Any response was cut off by him lifting up the transceiver shell and crushing it with his bare hands.

His smile turned much more friendly as he set the traumatized snail down, but the edges still seemed… feral. He ruffled your hair, knocking off your marine cap in the process.

“Get changed and wash up properly before dinner. It’ll be a few more hours before we meet up with Oyaji. Ace will make sure it’s burned.” Overwhelmed and horrified, you couldn’t help the slight whimper.

“…but I like my uniform.”

The Phoenix paused, giving you a slightly pitying smile as he gave you a side hug, blue fire flickering over the both of you. Any other circumstances, it would feel warm and reassuring.

“I know it’s a lot, kid. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” He paused looking down at you. “The hat’s gotta go, but, I tell you what, how about you keep this, yoi?” He tugged the blue neckerchief loose and placed it on top of your ‘new’ clothes.

Against your better judgment, you were a little touched at the suggestion.

What is your life now? You’ve been kidnapped, forcibly made to join a Yonko crew, and now you feel touched because one of the commanders is letting you keep a token of your job?!

Whatever.

You’d just get issued a new uniform later.

If you ever get away from this crazy ass band of pirates.

“I do like the color…” You added lamely, unwilling to push the argument considering how laughably easy it would be for him to force the issue. And then you’d have nothing left of your own.

“I like the color blue, too, yoi.” You looked at him with a frown. Glancing at his shirt.

“Not purple?” The Phoenix blinked, surprised at your dry response before chuckling.

“Alright, sassy pants. Get marching.” He smirked, shooing you to the bathroom to get changed. Flush and embarrassed, you escaped before he could say anything else.

Now… did your new pants even have pockets big enough for your animal treats?

--*--

Surprisingly, the new clothes fit well. Roomy enough that you didn’t get weirded out that they had your exact size but small enough that it wasn’t going to fall off of you anytime soon.

Your marine blue neckerchief was tied around your right wrist. The only part of your uniform you got to keep besides your shoes.

Any blood was gone from your hands or face but Fire Fist still felt the need to inspect them, playfully pinching your nose to see if it hurt still. Upon seeing that you were in perfectly fine shape, and freshly clean, he beamed.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Oyaji, he’s going to be happy to have a new kid running around. It’ll be a while before you get assigned to a division, but don’t worry, they’re all pretty great! Well, not as great as mine, but still!” Fire Fist laughed boisterously as The Phoenix rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Fire Fist’s head.

“They gotta get used to the crew first, Ace. Don’t jump the gun so quickly or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

Ah yes. Their biggest concern in this whole debacle.

Your feelings.

Cause fuck the law, that’s why. And everything else for good measure.

But also your feelings, because if that was actually a concern they would have left you with your asshat partner and a bloody nose.

… your previous circumstances does not, in fact, justify kidnapping and forced recruitment.

You are a marine damnit! Maybe not a strong one, or even a great one (yet), but there has to be a line somewhere!

“Ahah~! Right, sorry! Here, we’re having soup! It’s not as good as Thatch’s food, but we’re getting back too late for dinner so it’ll have to do. He’ll want a little more warning to pull out all the stops anyway.” Fire Fist laughed, handing you a bowl of hot soup. It smelled good, but despite your hunger, you were still a little thrown.

“…Does he often want to impress captives?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything. Fire Fist paused and actually flushed, laughing to himself.

“Sort of, yeah. He kept trying to feed me while I tried to kill Oyaji for over a hundred days, you know!” You blanched, horrified.

You had forgotten that little tidbit, although most of Fire Fist’s recruitment into the Yonko crew was a mystery, you had overheard that bit.

Suddenly, your prospects of getting out of this scot-free seemed… unlikely.

If being a marine isn’t a deterrent, and neither is many murder attempts, then what the hell could get you out of this? Fire Fist kept laughing as you caught The Phoenix’s eye.

He seemed darkly amused and very much aware of your predicament.

He clapped your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it so much. You’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, you don’t think he was talking about escaping.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part thirteen) 🌹

Part 12🌹

A/N: please don't banish me to 12🙏

Hunger game warnings apply!

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The world had gone yellow. Over the days and hours, it remained muted but ever-present. Not even the glistening white walls of the laboratory could escape an aged yellow tint. Four white walls are supposed to drive one mad, but in the case of Clemensia Dovecote, it was the lack of pure color that had her picking at her scaled skin.

However, there was one spot that Clemensia knew retained its purest shade. The crimson splatter on the dented wall, caused by her ramming her own head into it when the hissing became too much. Ironically, her evidence of insanity was keeping her sane.

She was focusing on that wretched spot once more when the door to her room in Gaul's freak laboratory opened. Clemmie was surprised by the intrusion. It wasn't test time. Or had she lost all sense of time? And here she thought she was getting better.

All questions were silenced when a figure was rushed inside on a stretcher, followed by half a dozen glove-clad figures. Tens of commands were shouted in the air as Clemensia watched from her bedside. The appearance of needles and oddly colored substances brought waves of all too familiar panic over the young woman.

As knives and needles buzzed around the poor body beneath the doctors, not a single scream was heard. Clemensia found it odd. When she was first bitten by the snakes, she was sent into the very same room she had been stuck in for days. Her only memories during the operations and tests were the blinding lights, glass-shattering screams, and heart-stopping pain.

Not a peep was heard from the body under operation. Dr. Gaul must have been feeling in a good mood and knocked the poor victim out. Or the person was already gone.

Just as quickly as they came, the team of scientists and medical specialists left in a flurry. Clemensia sat frozen in her bed, unsure of her next move. Would she be subjected to more testing if she approached? While the raven-haired girl debated, the body began making noises. So, not dead. Or back from the dead?

Clemensia was sick of the questions and lack of answers, so she pushed herself off the uncomfortable bed and began taking cautious steps toward the waking person. The lighting was dim enough to obscure the face of the damaged body but caught the light of three dainty metal rings.

Clemensia's gasps radiated off the walls when recognition hit her. All thoughts of punishment evaporated as she rushed to the bedside.

"Y/N?"

Her panicked shriek was met with mumbles and grumbles as your eyes fluttered open. You were heavily disoriented, taking in your new surroundings— weird tiled walls, creepy lighting, and no Coriolanus. You turned to your left, and your eyes connected with another pair of pale yellow ones.

"Clemmie?"

The girl in question noticed your fear of her appearance but decided she could deal with that later. For the time being, she wrapped her healing arms around you in a crushing embrace. Your left shoulder became soaked from Clemensia’s body-shaking sobs. You had no idea what had, is , or will happen. You just felt you could do nothing more than rub your fingers through your friend’s dark locks in a comforting manner. Time passed in a fluid motion by the time Clemmie untangled herself from your healing body. You took in her eyes, now a marble mixture of yellow and red, while she took in the brutal cuts on your neck.

“I don't remember your cuts being this bad.”

Her slender fingers trailed lightly over the now stitched and wrapped injury. The motion was light yet still earned a wince from your chapped lips. Clemmie quickly removed her fingers and a string of apologies left her mouth. Odd. The girl you grew up with seemed to be shaken and hollowed out.

Clemnisa was always small, whether from genetics or malnutrition, but it wasn’t her body that gave the appearance now. It was the skittish movement of her eyes. The shakiness in her fingers. Short and shallow breaths. Though, those attributes were nothing in comparison to the scales that cover her once clear skin.

“Clemmie, what happened?”

Whether articulate planning or happenstance, the moment was interrupted by the shadow of gloom known as Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

“The dawn of Vaun, a deadly blade. Worn out dull from deadly decay.”

Cackles echoed off of the walls with the room lit up by the maniacal grin of the Head Gamemaker. Next to you, Clemnisa began twitching slightly from the woman. Oh, Clemmie, what has she done to you?

“Oh, what a lovely game you played, Miss Vaun. You have such wonderful potential to take over my position one day.”

Your jaw hardened at the thought. You wanted to do everything in your power to stop these games from ever happening again, not be the ringleader.

“Is Coryo alright?”

The woman’s demented eyes sharpened at you, in slight offense for cutting off her point. She took predatory steps towards you and shooed Clemnisa away to her respective bed. Dr. Gaul sat next to you and took your hand in her own cold, calloused one.

“Mr. Snow is quite alright. A few stitches here and there, but well earned. Your dear Coriolanus learned a good lesson about humanity though I doubt you needed a refresher. Not a second do you go from comforting your friend to murderer. You have a strength seldom seen these days.”

“You have not forgotten the war. Good. Don't you ever.”

You stared at her stunned and ashamed. Of course, only she would congratulate you on murder. You felt nausea swim through your veins and begged for moral release. You could feel Clemnisa’s stare burn across your face, but you had no words. How do you explain execution? Dr. Gaul felt satisfied with whatever she saw and sighed as she rose. A hand was firmly placed on your shoulder as she bore her gaze into your own.

“Check in on Mr. Snow. I fear he has been a bit shaken from his first death. Happens to the best of us, no?”

Flashbacks from the arena flooded in as you began remembering. The sound of splashing blood, bursting organs, and obliteration of bones. The sight of a wild man, unrelenting in his punishment over a boy. Coriolanus, the wild beast set upon poor Bobbin.

Your eyes shut in repulsion and discomfort when the door opened once more. A small woman with cold eyes and a stern mouth walked straight to Dr. Gaul. The Gamemaker wasn’t too close to you, but the proximity was enough to hear snippets of the whispers.

“Ravenstill… dead…”

Felix? You looked to Clemnisa and found that she must have heard as well as her eyes swelled with tears. She bit them back as Dr. Gaul looked you both over with a hard look in her eyes. She nodded to the woman and wordlessly made her exit. You waited a few moments before engaging in conversation, if such a thing could be done currently.

“Clemmie-”

“What happened.”

It was not a question but a demand. You took a moment to look at the world through Clemnisa’s eyes. It had been days since she was bitten. Days stuck in the laboratory with the wicked Gamemaker. No friends or family visiting. Then all of a sudden, her friend comes rushing in, flirting with death just to know that she had her hand in murder. Not only you, but yet another one of her close friends decided to join in the slaughter while another was dying. Dead.

This was not the Clemnisa you knew. She had her tears, but she did not bawl. Her body shivered but did not crumble. She became hardened at the edges. Though, familiar or not, she deserved answers. Your voice cracked and pitched as you relented to her demands. The agonizing tale of horror you had so actively lived and scarcely survived.

“The Hunger Games.”

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Arachne Crane was many things. Vile, cruel, demanding, sneering, and the list goes on. But one thing she was not, was a fool.

She was not to be fooled by Bobbin's sudden death. She knows there would have been recaps. Arachne noticed Coriolanus’s silence while his classmates chattered among themselves. His eyes were calculating like usual, but they were shadowed by a look of remorse. Guilt? Relief.

The red-haired girl certainly took note of your delayed arrival and the fresh-looking stitches on your neck. Peculiar as they looked perfectly fine last night before Arachne left. The look of unreadable emotion between you and Coriolanus was the most incriminating evidence. As if you never thought you would see the other ever again, yet there you were. However, the look was cut short as it was replaced with horror.

Upon the vast screen, a district caved into itself. Jessup began accusations against Lucy Gray, his closest confidant.

Most district pairs stuck together, but none more than Lucy Gray and Jessup. Even Arachne knew that neither would turn on the other, so why is Jessup Diggs chasing his friend with deadly intent? Arachne’s brown eyes moved from the screen to you and Coriolanus to ease her confusion. If it wasn’t enough that the tributes were friends, their mentors were more than enough to solidify their truce.

Yet, you both understood. Coriolanus noted the foam appearing from Jessup’s mouth and turned to you for help, but you were already ahead of him. You remembered rabies all too well. Hunched over your computer, you inhaled a somber breath.

“I know you did your best, Jessup. You did your part. It's my turn now. I’m so sorry.”

Your voice was small and quaking as your fingers hovered over, and eventually pressed the buttons signaling Jessup’s doom. A drone came rushing in, zooming straight for Jessup, narrowly missing both him and Lucy Gray. Instead, it hit the rock straight behind the District 12 boy, ricocheting off the stone and onto him. Fear overtook his eyes as he began swatting it off, only to have fright filling his lungs.

“What’s wrong with me?! What did you do to me?!”

His pleas echoed in the viewing hall as Lucy Gray’s heart was shattering as much as the glass that brought this situation. She begged him to calm down, but no sense rang through his ears as he tried everything to get the water off. His erratic movement caught up with him. The dark-eyed boy slammed into the rock below- a deafening sound.

“Jessup? Jessup!”

Your teary eyes watched on as Lucy Gray comforted and hugged her now-gone friend.

“I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? You watched over me and I’m gonna watch over you.”

With dirt-covered hands, Lucy Gray closed her friend's eyes as she hugged him close. In the hall, a buzzer was heard, signaling his death and your elimination from the wicked games. You knew this was going to happen. It was inevitable yet the truth brought no comfort.

You walked past Coriolanus and met his swimming blue eyes. A nod and eyes filled with thousands of emotions, flickering past too fast to decipher. One was gratefulness. Your own eyes had their fair share of emotions that shouted out to the star mentor. He knew the unspoken plea. There was no chance to be taken. He had to win.

As Lucky Flickerman ushered you out with his charismatic words, you made your way to the audience stands. You saw Tigris first and flashed her a soft smile, to which she reciprocated. When you reached the girl, she pulled you into a warm embrace. No words needed to be said. As you were in her arms, a soft thought fluttered your mind. Tigris has been nothing but kind to you and treated you like a sister. You never had a sister. Her smiles and jokes, even while surrounded by a crumbling and colder world stunned you day in and out. If you ever get your stuff back from your apartment, you don't have to sell it all. You had a few dresses you think Tigris would love.

You stayed there for a few moments, lost from reality, before taunting cackles were heard. Laughs you knew far too well for your liking. The scene played out in front of your eyes as Lucy Gray became cornered by Coral, Tanner, and Treech. All looked roughed up from the earlier night, but the sight of prey gave them more than enough energy. You and Tigris sucked in a shared breath as they got closer to the shaking girl. You watched as Coriolanus focused on his computer, slamming the buttons as fast as possible.

Confusion laced your features for a fleeting moment before realization dawned over you. Coriolanus Snow, you scheming genius.

Half a dozen drones swirl around the pack as they begin to defend themselves from the mechanical mess-ups. Coral swings this way and that with her trident as the rest of her pack does the same. You watch Coryo’s mouth move as he pleads to his tribute to run and to your collective relief, she does.

Lucy Gray takes advantage of the chaos and slips away under some rubble, taking two bottles with her. Coral and her pack are arguing among themselves while Lucy Gray regains her spirits. Coral and Treech target Lamina, who has yet to move from her spot on top of the collapsed rubble structure, while Tanner is left to guard the piled-up water. As the two zero in on Lamina, Lucy Gray makes her own moves; though, it can be argued how much of it is her idea when you notice the silver hiding in her hand.

Frantically removing the cap of one of the bottles, a beautiful silver compact shines in the light as she pours powder into the water. You stopped breathing as if you inhaled the substance yourself. Like when you had inhaled the substance. Your eyes shift to Tigris and see her own squinting, trying to pinpoint the recognition. But you know.

You move your gaze to the back of beautiful blonde curls but you are interrupted halfway. Instead, the cold hard stare of Casca Highbottom filled your vision. His face was cemented into a grave expression but you caught the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. The dean made no move to back down from your stare, knowing he caught you right where he wanted. More specifically, he caught Coriolanus Snow.

The man smirked as he relented his gaze and directed it towards the screen where you missed plenty of action. Lamina succumbed to the power of Coral and joined Marcus beneath the structure while Lucy Gray, once again, hardly escaped from death. It was clear her various escapes drove a wedge between Coral and Tanner before the former drove her trident into her district partner. The crowd took a collective gasp at the sudden death and betrayal, but it was clear that today would be the day of death.

Only Treech and Coral remained of their former pack but that did not stop their hunting as little Wovey suddenly appeared. You had to look away as you heard their footsteps rush after the little girl, praying for her safety, even though it would be useless in the Games. The pair ran off into the tunnels, leaving the center of the arena with an odd silence.

No sign of movement for fleeting moments before a tribute could be heard before they could be seen. Coughing and stumbling, Dill from 11 approached the water. Or what she thought was pure water.

The relief on her face was blinding as she took gulps of the poison, no thought about the death she just consumed. You gulped down your nausea as she laid down next to the bottle. Your eyes shut as you heard Reaper call out for his friend. It wasn't supposed to be her. Why her? Why any of them?

Your face cringed in sorrow at Reaper’s howls and felt Tigris close her fingers over yours in comfort. You weren’t the one deserving of the comfort. Why were you given a shoulder of support while children had every last bit of hope and companionship slaughtered?

Reaper hovered over his friend's body and took off his hat in mourning. Your heart felt like it was going to give out in anguish. This isn’t a battle. This isn’t war. Death is indiscriminate except for the arena. Only the innocent. The good. The hopes of the world are massacred.

Reaper grabs Dill’s corpse and moves her to be with their fellow fallen tributes. One by one, Reaper lives up to his name as he creates the graveyard of innocent children. Most of which wished no harm to the other.

You take a look around the room and see sullen faces. Humanity and regret dance behind the crowd’s eyes. Maybe there is hope, a chance for change. Maybe the Hunger Games have grimly brought the Capital back to their senses-

Gasps shudder off the dome-like walls. Shrieks of offense and terror fill the air. You return your gaze to the screen, expecting more corpses and gore, but are only met with the flag between Reaper's hands. You look around the audience once more to see every pair of eyes hardening against the actions considered more vile than child slaughter. Every pair is focused in outrage at the offender who mocks the Capital and its punishment.

Every pair except a chestnut pair who stare at you. Arachne takes a look around the room once more and lands back on you. They always land back on you.

You watch her face contort into disbelief and realization. Across the room, your gaze connects as understanding flows straight to the girl.

Arachne Crane is many things. A top student, a promising youth, an unrelenting patriot.

Arachne Crane was many things.

But what Arachne Crane still is not, is a fool.

With the Panem flag draped over her fellow countrymen, she feels her blood boil with the districts, thoughts that would have never even scraped her mind before. But she was not the person from before. She is not, and never again will be, the Capitol's fool.

Your eyes still bore into one another when your attention was recaptured. So swift was Reaper’s act of rebellion cut off, instead replaced with the chilling look of a furious Dr. Gaul. Nothing good was to come of this.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravenstill, son of our beloved president.”

The sounds of shock and fury were drowned out as you only listened in to the Gamemaker. Watching how perfectly she articulates the fear to an unsuspecting audience. An audience that plays so perfectly into her game.

“He succumbed this morning to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing. Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

You froze in disbelief. Not that Felix was gone, that fate was digested with Clemensia earlier. What you couldn’t believe was that all this time, you were led astray. You finally gathered the answer to Dr. Gaul’s question: ‘What are the Hunger Games for?’

You thought you knew. Everyone thought they knew. But this isn't about the districts. It has nothing to do with teaching them lessons or keeping them in their places. It has nothing to do with them at all.

The Hunger Games are not about survival. They are about control. And Dr. Gaul is losing her title as victor as the players stop playing.

“And where is he going?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at the sudden voice. You fully expected to see Casca Highbottom’s ever-present scowl as he seems to only show up at the worst times. However, you were pleasantly surprised to see your own scowling friend. You followed Arachne’s gaze to see Coriolanus rush out of the hall and you share a look of confusion with Tigris. You turn back to confess your lack of knowledge when it hit you. ‘A rainbow of destruction.’ Oh no.

“I have to go.”

You gave Arachne no time to protest in your haste to follow Coryo as you begged that you wouldn’t end up in the intimidating laboratory you have grown to detest.

Mere feet from the exit, you slam into something, causing you to stumble backwards into some unfortunate pedestrians. After collecting yourself, you realize that you didn't run into one of the many pillars surrounding the structure but rather an unamused looking Clemmisa Dovecote. 

Nothing ever goes your way.

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“Where exactly is your boyfriend going because if it is Dr. Gaul, I will throw him into a pile of snakes myself.”

You hesitate for a few moments as you take in the fact that Clemmisa is out and free. She told you of her time at the laboratory, none of which was in any realm near pleasant. The fits of insanity, the burning of her scales, and the absolute torture she went through in Gaul’s expression of science. Despite all that, here she stood, in a black turtleneck to hide her still fading scales and clearer eyes. Your observation was cut short however as the girl cleared her throat, clearly waiting for an answer. You sighed as you confessed. 

“Let his fate be quick please.”

Clemmisa was a singular second away from smashing her head into the nearest wall, not out of insanity, but rather frustration with her former class partner. However, any skull smothering plans were interrupted by an intrigued Arachne. 

“Ah so that's what the ‘flu’ was.”

You and Clemmisa both turn at her startling appearance. Your face must seem to translate your confusion well enough as the redhead continues. 

“You’re in a public and crowded area, be careful what you say. Plus, Y/N, don't be suspicious and expect people to not follow you. Though, it's good to know you are back Clemmie,”

“And that we are throwing Coryo into a pit of serpents.”

You turn to her unimpressed by the comment but she takes it in stride as she grins at you. Arachne gestures with her head for you and Clemmie to follow her into a more secluded part of the building. Ending up in an empty hallway, she turns to both of you, a thoughtful expression gracing her features.

“Wonder if Gaul’s colorful destruction has to do with her catching onto Coryo’s trick.” 

You watched as Clemmie’s brows furrowed in confusion. If she just made it to the hall now, it was likely she didn't see any of the Games today or frankly, at all. But as Clemmie stood there, awaiting an explanation from her friend, you were on the other side of the spectrum and looked towards Arachne with shock. The girl rolled her eyes and scoffed as she leaned on a nearby wall. 

“Oh please, no district kid has the money to get something that nice - singer or not. Besides, I remember fragments of Coryo's mother when our families used to get together and she was always fidgeting with that compact.”

As you digested her words, Clemmie still felt out of the loop and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Okay good to know, but what does that have to do with anything?”

The two of you were quick to catch your unaware friend up to date: deaths, eliminations, rat poison, and all. In turn, she, along with your help, helped catch Arachne up with recent events including the rainbow snakes and your dance with death in the arena. The latter caused a flush of fury to appear on Arachne’s fair skin as your battle for survival was recounted. Once you were done, Clemmisa huffed out a breath, clearly overwhelmed. She turned back to face you two as she tried to figure out Coriolanus’s motive. 

“So what, he is just going to beg for Gaul’s forgiveness while he is actively cheating her games?”

“Coriolanus Snow does not beg. He is up to something obviously. Though what, I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s clear she is going to send the snakes in but I still don't understand what Coryo’s plan is going to be?” Clemmie puffs in aggravation at the dead end. Then, a look of conspiracy glistens in Arachne’s chestnut eyes.

Arachne turns to you in question. Since you seem to spend every breath with him, she thinks bitterly. You, however, turn to Clemmisa as she likely had insider information about Gaul due to her time spent at Gaul’s prison she calls a lab. It was clear from last night that those who work there don't mind having loose lips around their experiments. 

“He smells like her.”

You whip your head towards her, face nearly daring her to continue with that train of thought. 

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don't even. You and I both know he's not like that.” She waved her hand in the air as if physically offended at your train of thought. 

“I meant that he is her mentor, not to mention she saved his life, so they spent a decent amount of time together. When I walked past her at the zoo, even surrounded by dirt and disgust, she still had a strong perfume smell to her. If what you say about the snakes is true-”

“Then he is going to use Gaul’s snakes against her.” You finish the thought for Arachne who looks to you slyly. Clemmisa looked as if she were about to burst from glee at the thought of Gaul tasting her own poison. 

With that, the three of you walk back into the main hall and can only wait for the events to play out. Pray and beg that you won't leave empty-handed, or more worryingly, hands tied behind your back.

Just as you reach the entrance to the viewing hall, you collide once again into an unsuspecting body. You really need to watch where you are going, you began saying to yourself before you felt familiar hands steadying you by the waist. Well, well, if it wasn't the golden boy of the hour, whose irises, colored in your personal favorite shade of blue, looked down at you in worry.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

Clemmnesia didn’t have the patience for pleasantries and crossed her arms, ready for answers. “Okay, cut to the chase, is it gonna work or not?”

Coriolanus’s already pale skin lost any residue of color at Clemmie’s interrogation. The sight of his panic brought out a sick feeling of glee from Arachne as she laughed in her own high class, snobby, yet intimidating way.

“Take a breath, Coryo. Doubt anyone else noticed and besides, we all want you to win anyway. We wouldn’t hear the end of it if Festus won.”

Ara cringed at the last thought while you bit your lip in contemplation. Well, someone else, someone very important, might have noticed. You opened your mouth to voice your concern when Clemniesa clarified her own motivation.

“Not to mention playing Gaul and winning. I want to see her sense of power to crumble so perfectly in front of my eyes.”

Well, your discontent for Gaul was not as vile or seething as Clemnisa’s, it was enough for you to nod in agreement. Coriolanus didn’t know the details of Clemmies' pain, but he could see her burning glare had a yellow tint to it. Add on your own pain and separation from Coryo when you needed him most, Coryo won't question a single one of your feelings. Although, that left Arachne as the only one without a motivation. He turned to her with an arched brow in curiosity in which she was guarded in her answer.

“I have my reasons.”

Coriolanus figured he won't get any further answers from Ara, though she wasn’t the one he wanted to talk to. He knew he didn't have much time, but he needed to talk to you. Coriolanus needed just one ephemeral moment with you to know that you are okay. An assurance that you weren’t a biological lab rat like Clemmnesia or saw him differently after what he did. Of the two fates, he wasn’t sure which one was worse; Coriolanus would lose you in both cases.

The two other girls must have noticed the changing air between you and the charming blonde as they suddenly disappeared from your presence. Coryo took the slice of time to step closer to your cautiously worried being. You, much to Coryo’s relief, did not step back from the action but looked at him quizzically.

“Y/N, I –”

His ocean of eyes deepened as his breathing became shallow. The boy has always been a wonder with his wit and words yet all his ability decided to leave him at the moment he met your eyes. He couldn't stop seeing them closing in pain and refusal to open as death gripped you down. Will you ever be able to live without cruel fate seeking into every crack of your life?

The scream of Lucy Gray was impactful enough to hear it even outside the hall. Alerted and on edge, all confessions were pushed to the side as both you and Coriolanus ran to the screens. You were eliminated and you were not allowed back in the mentor observation area, but no one was able to move a foot as all were too captured by the action unfolding.

Coral and Treech had been poking up at Lucy Gray's hiding spot until the latter of the duo began coughing violently. His throat began closing up and even with the bad quality of the cameras, the life abandoning his adolescent body was visible to all. The singer from Twelve made a run for it as soon as she fell from the vents. Sprinting into the center, with Coral on her tails, Lucy Gray, along with the rest of the remaining tributes, were met with a chilling sight. An ominous glass container was slowly being lowered from an aircraft vehicle. It descended slowly and once finally released, the stillness of the arena was mocking. Desperate, sweet Wovey stumbled towards the glass-contained doom.

Your breathing ceased as Reaper's pleas for Wovey to stop moving rang throughout the nation. While the young girl begged for an end, Coriolanus had his own pleas: let his plan work. At once yet in slow, even artistic movements, the glass shattered, releasing death in the form of a beautiful display of colors. Wovey was the first to go, rapidly drowned by the snakes. Reaper took his death in honor as he kneeled tall, refusing to bend to the Capitol even in his final moments. The only two left were Lucy Gray and Coral, the latter only a few steps away from the venomous serpents. Your hand found Coryo’s in apprehension as you watched the two adolescents run from inevitability. 

The girl from Four opened her own towards her final opponent as she begged for mercy.

“It’s not fair! It’s not!

I can’t have killed them all for nothing.”

The young life that was never allowed to blossom within Coral was extracted by hundreds of beautiful fangs. The room was covered in a layer of paralysis as Lucy Gray was the lone warm-blooded body standing. Your hand began crushing Coryo’s but he only squeezed back. 

“She won.”

No, indeed it was rather the frighteningly seething Dr. Gaul, who was perched above. Coriolanus turned to the Gamemaker, doing what he does best: talking his way out of the situation. His victorious tribute was doing what she does best by singing to the snakes who were now slithering all over her, matching the bright colors of her mother’s dress. 

Coryo looked to you for confirmation, as if it was an unbelievable possibility with no ties to reality. In all truth, it was to each mentor and spectator, but not Coryo or you. Especially with Coriolanus’s own battle moves and tactics. The boy’s blue irises frantically moved from yours to Lucky Flickerman. The host was no help in confirming Lucy Gray’s victory nor her release as it was “not his call to make.” 

“Dr. Gaul, she’s won. Let her out.”

You’re headed for heaven, the sweet old hereafter. And I’ve got one foot in the door. But before I can fly up, I’ve loose ends to tie up. Right here in the old there-before. I’ll be along -

The woman was flushed with her anger, present through her twitching nostrils. Lucy Gray has won which means Volumnia Gaul has lost. The most powerful woman in Panem was outsmarted by a thin, sickly, backwoods singer. 

As Coriolanus tried to convince the woman to let Lucy Gray out and confirm their mutual victory, you tried to cover up his meddling by attributing the snakes' calmness to the girl’s beautifully heartbreaking singing. You looked around at the hypnotized crowd and witnessed Clemmnesia watch on with a mix of envy and nausea at the girl's relationship to the very snakes who caused Clemmie so much trauma. 

When my folks run aground. When I’ve tallied the score and I’m flat on the floor. Right here in the old there-before. 

When nothing is left anymore. When I’m pure like a dove. When I’ve learned how to love. Right here in the old there-before. When nothing is left anymore. 

“Dr. Gaul, please. Get her out.”

You watched as Coriolanus’s eyes dipped with persuasion and pleading as he started intently at Dr. Gaul, whose stance began to crumble. Lucy Gray can’t sing forever and you refuse to go back on your promise to Jessup. Lucy Gray will live.

“Get her out!”

All eyes turned to you as you shared the sentiment. If it was just going to be you and Coryo against the Capitol, so be it. However, you both know that if support was needed, it can always be found in Tigris Snow. 

“Get her out!!”

She stood tall as she joined you in rebellion. Swiftly, two more voices were heard. Clemmnesia and Arachne bore their intimidating glares into Dr. Gaul while they joined the ranks of opposition. Within just a moment, the entire hall was heard chanting for Lucy Gray’s freedom. You knew that Gaul could not silence the entire Capitol and their demands. A truth Gaul was, reluctantly, able to acknowledge. 

“Get her out.”

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Her hardened eyes ended up landing on your still intertwined hands while looking at Coriolanus, the victorious mentor of the ultimate underdog. The fact that he won hit you both a bit belatedly but as claps and cheers surrounded you, brilliant smiles broke across your faces. He separated your hands just to use his own to pick you up and spin you around in glee. As laughs and applause drowned out all your sense, the gaze of one Casca Highbottom was not felt. Though he was wearing a matching smile at the two of you. So happy the pair of you looked. Unaffected. Perfect and unscathed. Highbottom snarled at the thought.

Time to melt the snow.

When Coriolanus Snow was directed to follow a pair of Peacekeepers, he didn’t think much of it. He was on his way to congratulate Lucy Gray and released his breath knowing she lived. But while Coryo was lost in his accomplishment, you were not as trusting with his final destination. It was highly reckless, but then again, when did you ever have a clear head around Coriolanus Snow? 

You watched as the still softly smirking boy entered the room that was quickly locked and guarded by Peacekeepers. If he was meeting with Lucy Gray, why would they lock the door? In the Capital's eyes, she is still a high-level threat and the Capitol’s golden boy has just been trapped in there with her. You hypothesized the possible scenarios until the light went off in your head. The realization that Coryo had indeed been caught by Dean Highbottom occurred at the same moment the aforementioned man appeared in the locked room. 

“I warned you, Mr. Snow. Cheating will be punished.”

With a cynical laugh, he continued with his glorified lecture. “More poetically than even I could have hoped.”

“Lucy Gray, where is she?”

Coriolanus tried to retain his frustration and panic. He should have known. If Arachne and Clemnissa were able to figure him out, of course, the ever-vigilant and sneering Highbottom would in a second. 

“I would be more concerned with your own survival if I were you.”

Highbottom circled around the teen until he came to a stop in front of the table that displayed his mother’s compact and father’s handkerchief, proudly embroidered with “C.S”. 

“It’s fitting that both your parents could be here for your big moment. That compact. How many times did I see your mother use it to powder her beautiful face?”

The heir of Snow felt the anger boil as he clenched his jaw while the pure joy circulated in his father’s former best friend. 

“Come now, we both know that child from 11 didn’t die of disease. Or that lumberjack from 7. And that old handkerchief, we found it in the snake tank, appropriately condemning you with your father’s own initials.”

Snow had no rebuttal as Casca continued with satisfaction lacing his words and cruel grin. The man was ready to continue before slightly muffled screams from the door were heard. 

In the moments that Dean Highbottom spent giving his self-satisfied monologue, you grew anxious at the silent moments. You didn’t know what was happening but whatever Coryo was facing, he wasn’t going to do it alone. 

You thought of trying to sweet-talk your way in, but just one look at the stone-faced guards was enough to scrap the plan. Alarm was overtaking your brain and any semblance of rationality, which left you with only one plan left. 

You moved from your hiding place behind the pillars and ran straight for the door, barely scraping the doorknob before two pairs of strong arms began dragging you away. While they might have captured your body, your mouth was left free and used the highest decibel of your voice to alert a certain blonde. 

“CORYO! CORYO! CORYO-”

While one of the guards was able to silence you, it was too late. Coriolanus turned in alarm at your screaming voice while Highbottom tilted his head in curiosity.

“Loyal one, isn’t she?”

The Dean notified the guards to let you in and within a passing second, your rumpled clothed figure stumbled in. You, unfortunately, met Highbottom’s mirthful gaze first, to which you returned with a harsh glare. You quickly then shifted your focus to the concerned Coriolanus as you walked to his side. With a deep inhale to steady yourself and sparing no further time to allow you to overthink your next actions, you addressed Dean Highbottom.

“It was me. I cheated in the games.”

Coryo’s brows furrowed in confusion and astonishment at your words while Highbottom’s raised in surprise. Though his surprise quickly morphed into amusement.

“Did you now?

His question was met with a steady nod and yet no movement from young Snow. The dean’s smile grows further.

“Care to explain how both Snow artifacts came into your possession?”

To your credit, you were quick on your feet, showing no signs of nerves.

“I thought of the poison plan too spontaneously to bring a proper container. Coryo had just given me the compact so I thought he wouldn’t notice.”

The “nor you” was left unspoken.

“Coriolanus gave me the handkerchief a while ago and I must have forgotten of the initials.”

Highbottom nodded along with claims though he was armed with follow-up questions. 

“And when did you exactly spend so much time with Miss Biard to capture her smell on the forgotten handkerchief?”

Coriolanus watched as you answered yet again without a falter, though the answer shocked him at the near-total accuracy. 

“I visited her at the zoo the night before the games.”

“You visited Lucy Gray but not your own tribute?”

“Lucy Gray might as well have been my tribute because I swore to make sure she won. I made that promise to Jessup because we both knew he wouldn’t make it. I was willing to break a few rules to ensure that he died for a reason.”

Highbottom stepped closer to you, which caused Coryo to put an arm in front of you and step ahead, much to the dean’s amusement. The Hunger Games’ inventor took you in as he calculated in that malicious mind of his. 

“I must admit Miss Vaun, you are quite an admirable young woman. Clever and loyal. Not to mention one of the few Capitol kids with a heart.”

You and Coryo listened to his compliments with unease as you were sure that the other shoe had yet to drop. 

“Smart explanations. There was a visitor to Lucy Gray’s cage the night before the Games, but I know it wasn’t you. The Zoo’s cameras need work but even those janky machines can pick up on the ridiculous shade of blonde of the real cheater.”

Coryo looked to you, defeat lightly creeping up on his pale face, but you were unwilling to accept his defeat. You didn’t care if you had to get on your knees and beg: Coriolanus’s family needed the money and Coriolanus. 

“The Games are about survival and survival has no rules. In life or death, you don’t survive by playing nice. Coriolanus was just doing what those tributes were doing: surviving. And he won.”

Highbottom’s ever-irritating and grating laugh filled the enclosed room, shaking his head at you. 

“Oh dear girl. Here you are, using every last inch of skin and bone to defend him and yet not a word of protest came out of his mouth. Willing to defend a Snow who is more than willing to let you take the brunt of their actions. You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

He takes in the pair of you with a mocking pout as he can sense your confusion. 

The man’s bitter tone was dripping as he circled in on you both like a vulture. You had been able to piece your parents' former courtship but if only you knew the full extent. No need to worry; Casca Highbottom was oh so gracious to provide. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know? Y/N, where do you think that ring is from? After this, besides an excuse of a heir, the only remaining asset of Crassus Snow will be hanging around your neck. Ironic, after a war, death, and poverty, Snow still get’s the girl. Isn’t that right?”

“He was so quick to use the last remnants of his dead parents for his ambition, what makes you think he won't use you? I wonder if you are smart enough to realize it in time, just like your mother. So sad it didn’t matter in the end, Crassus brought her down into the grave with him.”

At that, Coriolanus finally spoke up, utterly done with Highbottom's mockery, especially when it came to both of your parents.

“She died from poisoned water. Years after my father's death.”

Highbottom looked at his two smartest students as if they were the dullest minds to walk on the earth as he explained.

“Now why would rebels go through so much effort to poison Cloria? If they wanted to hurt the Vaun family, why not cut off the head by taking out Tyre? He was a far easier target in the districts than his wife stored away deep in the Capitol. The rebels could have gone after you, Coriolanus, but humiliation states far better than ultimate demolition. But oh Cloria Vaun? The last fully functioning remnant of Crassus Snow. She may have run from his arms, she was never out of reach.”

“There was a reason your brother, your dear Otto, and uncle were sent to Twelve with Crassus Snow, Y/N. The family ties between your maternal family and the Snows were a notorious bond. One that couldn’t even be broken by the cruel heart of Crassus.”

Highbottom landed right in front of your swelling eyes as he spelled out the pain for you. Coriolanus kept his eye on you, dread flowing through his arteries. 

“Every person you have ever loved died at the hands of the family you strive at any chance to defend. You are just the next victim.”

You look down at your necklace, a priorly never noticed detail shouts out at you. The two golden rings of your family were split apart by the aggressive silver shine of the Snow’s ring. Your breath began to quicken as Coriolanus ducked his head down to get your attention. His eyes began to match your teary-eyed ones as he too took in your appearance. 

No, no, please no. You can't believe he is like his father. You can’t.

Casca Highbottom took in the scene of heartbreak in front of him with jubilation. He never had anything against Cloria, but he wished the world’s worst suffering against any bearer of the surname Snow. 

“Your family won’t ever see that prize money now of course, Coriolanus. President Ravinstill has left your form of punishment to me, and I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capitol in exile for the next 20 years as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt.”

Both pairs of youthful eyes snapped to the dean. You share a look with Coriolanus and in that one glance, you knew. You didn’t care if it was your so-called destiny to suffer. You refused to let your life be controlled by the actions of two people who weren’t you, even if they were your blood. You were unwilling to accept your love to be ripped from you by a man’s personal vendetta with a ghost. 

The sound of fireworks popping in the distance filled the tension-packed room as Highbottom finally felt his long-awaited satisfaction. 

“Do you hear that, boy? Finally. The sound of snow falling.”

Any arguments from you were drowned out by half a dozen Peacekeepers storming and dragging Coriolanus away. Just as you had pleaded on your way in, you did the same as he left. 

“CORYO!”

You were held back by Peacekeepers just like before, but you made no effort to move. Your mind had nothing to provide as it was hazed with anguish. No thoughts were able to be formed besides the image of that singular look in Coriolanus's eyes. The look of one who was screaming their proclamation of love in a battlefield. The look you give to your loved one before you say goodbye. Forever. 

You whip yourself around once you were finally released from the guards' grasps as you intend to argue against Coryo’s punishment. Your tear-streamed face was met with an unnervingly calm and serene Highbottom.

“Time to discuss your punishment.”

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You stood in front of the grey vehicle with a small bag in hand. A handful of items stuffed into it, the few personal items you had left at the Plinths. You heard the whistles blow, the third of its kind, alarming all persons on the platform for the train's soon departure. You knew you needed to get on but you felt frozen in time. No movement in your body, not even a blink or breath. All until a voice startled you into motion.

The train looked only slightly more advanced and clean than the cattle car the tributes arrived in. An arrival that was less than a week ago. Yet here you stood. From top student and Capitol darling to a scarred, disowned, and failure.

At least that's what kept on ringing in your mind when you went to the Snow’s apartment to break the news that no money would arrive along with their Coriolanus. The look in Tigris's eyes was a sure affirmation that sleep would not be coming to you for days.

“Wonder if it moves.”

You turn to your right and there stands a surprisingly plain-looking Arachne Crane. Your eyes squint in confusion at her appearance and presence but she takes no notice as she continues to look at the train like you just were. You clear your throat as you warily address her. 

“It’s a train, Ara. Yes.”

“I was talking about you.”

She met your eyes with a smirk that only widened at your further confusion on just how long she had been standing there without your notice. The final passengers, mostly just Peacekeepers, boarded, leaving just you and Arachne. 

“Alright, I admit it’s a decent-looking train but now it's time to get going.”

The girl grabs your hand and made it onto the train's low steps for boarding when you pull her to a stop. The girl turned around with an eyebrow arched in slight frustration.

“What are you doing, Ara?”

The girl huffed at what seemed like an obvious answer. She flipped her high ponytail over her shoulder as she switched hands to hold yours. 

“I don’t like to be played like a fool. The Capitol says the districts are evil, let them but I’ll find out for myself. Besides, the two people I actually can tolerate here aren’t going to be here, so why would I?”

“You have Clemmnisa.” You countered which made the girl softly laugh. 

“Yeah, but she isn't you. Besides, it's a ‘business trip’.”

You tilted your head at her excuse. “Arachne, your family doesn't have hotels in Twelve.”

She smirked at you gleefully at your comment. 

“I know.”

And with that, she pulled you up into the train, feet leaving the ground just as the train left the tracks.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: FINALLY! sorry guys I was struggling to write this, material and time wise. To all those who celebrate Eid tomorrow, here is your lil gift;) to all: have a lovely day!!

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

[hunzzzzz]

Fight for you - Chapter 3 : The exes

Kendall Roy x original female character

TW : SMUT !!! Read at your own risk 😩🤚🏽

A/N : okay so this is really long 11k+ words I’m sorry. I was gonna write it in 2 parts but it just needed to be all together !! Please let me know what you think! Some constructive criticism!

I woke up the next morning, with a smile on my face, which faded as quick as it came. The consequences of my decisions dawning upon me. I stuck my tongue down Kendall Roys throat. I groaned, cradling my head in my hands, how could I have been so reckless? Allowing myself to get swooped up by his sweet words in his vulnerable state. This is a future scandal just bubbling beneath the surface, ready to erupt any second. I had worked too hard, to get to the position which I’m in now at waystar, and to jeopardise that over this man was not worth it. And with that I cut off the wings of the butterflies, not allowing myself to get lost in them again. Think with your head, not your vagina. 

I had managed to successfully avoid him all morning, the distance was necessary, my mind goes to mush when he's close, all logic flies out the window. At around lunch time, I heard a light tap on my door, my heart skipped a beat as my mind went to Kendall, but to my luck it was Steve. Myself and Steve had gotten close over the years, I considered him my closest friend at Waystar. We oversaw many projects together, bounced ideas off of each other. We had synergy, he was the only person in the entire department who didn't see me as the enemy. He wasn't trying to stab me in the back at any given chance, instead we wholeheartedly supported each other.

“Hope i'm not interrupting”, he grinned, strolling in and plonking down on the chair in front of my desk.

“Not at all.” I smiled, shutting my laptop. “What's up?”

“Lunch at our spot?” He asked, holding his hands together. “I’m starving, and I fear if I eat the cafeteria food one more time this week, I might die from malnutrition or food poisoning or maybe even a combination of both.” 

Feeling my stomach rumble, I agreed, and decided to ignore Kendall's message requesting to meet him for lunch. I needed a distraction, to rid myself of him living in my mind rent free. We made our way to a little cafe tucked away in a quiet street, only a 10 minute walk  from work. We got our regular order and sat down. 

“So what's up with you.” he smirked. “I hear you're entangled with Kendall Roy?” 

“Oh god. So that's spread." I groaned, this is exactly what I was afraid of when he showed up on the 9th floor yesterday unannounced. “He's actually insufferable.” I felt guilty for lying, but what else was I supposed to say, admit that I indulged in a steamy makeout with the COO of our company the night before, over my dead body. “He's so invested in my project, it was so random, I think he's just trying to prove something to his father.” I shrugged nonchalantly trying to ignore my rapid heartbeat.

“Mhm, invested in the project or invested in you?” he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Please, I wouldn't go near him with a 10 foot pole. Trust me.” Another lie.

“Yeah good, I thought maybe you were going through a midlife crisis. He's bad news, don't get caught up in it.” He warned me. After my previous relationship almost ended me, Steve had grown quite protective of me like an older brother I never had. 

“I appreciate the concern. Thank you, but I promise you that will never happen. I'm just keeping my head down, working on this project with him. The sooner it's done, the sooner he'll be off my back.” I reassured Steve, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Okay, okay good. You know I worry about you." I nodded appreciating his advice. “But now that I have you here, I need a favour.”

“No, absolutely not. Whatever fight you have going on with Catherine this time. I'm not getting involved, last time-” I began defensively crossing my arms over my chest not wanting to get involved in whatever tiff he and his girlfriend –who I had grown to adore over the years– had going on. 

“Jesus woman, will you let me finish.” He cut me off rolling his eyes. “I was going to ask if you would accompany me to the Waystar charity Gala tonight.” He finished looking up at me with his beaming eyes. “Please, Catherine’s not in the city this week and I need a pretty lady on my arm if I'm going to beg for donations.” He pleaded. 

“Fuck no. I hate those events. Sorry Steve but it's a hard pass.” I said, my voice firm.

“Please Harper, I’ll owe you one. Lunch on me for the next year.'' I sighed, agreeing to go, seeing as he was so desperate. It's the least I could do to repay him for the endless favours he had done for me. Staying late at the office helping pick up my slack, covering for me when I took time off work because my relationship hit the rocks.

We made our way back to work, after an hour of much needed catching up on office drama. Walking through the lobby of the main building still giggling. “Yup and now she’s pregnant, and she's keeping it.” Steve chuckled.

I threw my head back laughing as I clutched onto his arm, almost losing my balance. “Oh my god, shut up. I'm gonna pee.” I said in between giggles, the large coke I had for lunch catching up to me. “We need to stop talking before someone hears us.” 

I straightened myself up as I saw a familiar face approaching. “What's so funny.” Kendall asked, his eyes fixated to my hand on Steve's arm, which I immediately dropped. His eyes flashing with anger, possibly even jealousy? Steve wasn't unattractive, he was a conventionally good looking guy, he was tall with broad shoulders. I know the women on the 9th floor swoon over him, running to make copies for him with the snap of his fingers, waiting by the door with his coffee in hand every morning. But to me he was just Steve, the guy who burps in my face after inhaling a burger or comes to me with his endless relationship problems. 

“Nothing.” I quickly said, sobering up from my lunch high, trying to sound professional. 

“Uh-huh.” he didn't seem convinced, he finally looked over to Steve plastering on a fake smile. “Hi, Kendall Roy.” He stuck out his hand.

“The man himself, Steve Murphy. Pleasure to meet you.” Steve put on a fake smile matching Kendalls, giving him a firm handshake, a silent standoff. The tension in the lobby was heavy between both men who disapproved of each other, both for their own reasons.

 Kendall finally released from the handshake and turned to me pressing his lips together before speaking. “Could I grab you for a second Harper,” as if I had a choice in the matter, so much for trying to avoid him today. 

“Yeah sure, Steve go ahead, I’ll meet you up there.” Steve furrowed his brows, but didn’t press any further though he wanted to, giving a curt nod and with that he left.

Kendall guided me to a quiet corner, his hand on the small of my back, I swatted his hand away weary of the people standing by. The last thing I needed was more rumours going around about me. People were just beginning to forget that I was the sad, pathetic woman whose fiance had an affair with her best friend. He stood across me, his face hard, jaw clenched, not saying a word

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, deciding to cut through the tension.

“I thought you didn't go out for lunch? Fucking- with your, uh endless piles of work and what not?” he questioned crossing his arms together, eyes burning into mine. 

“First of all not that it's even any of your business but I had some free time today. And secondly I couldn't say no to Steve, I owed him one.”  I shrugged, putting on a front, even though he had caught me in my lie. 

“Uh-huh. You owed him one?” he questioned, brows raised. Like this was an interrogation and I was some kind of criminal on the loose. 

“Dont worry about it.” I sighed just wanting to be done with this already. “Okay if that is all, then I really have to get back.” I tried to step past him to leave, but he blocked my way, forcing me to stay put.

“No, actually I did want to ask you something.” He cleared his throat, a flash of nervousness breaking through his hard eyes. “I was wondering if you would accompany me to the charity gala tonight?”

“Oh.” I stared at him blankly. “Oh- actually uhm, I'm already going with someone else.” I made a mental note in my head to thank Steve and give him a massive kiss on the cheek, for saving me from having to be Kendall's date.

“Who?” he asked, as he shook his head in disbelief. “Is it that fucking- uh, stewart guy?

“It's Steve and like I said it’s none of your business.” I leaned in to whisper in his ear, before making my exit. “But I'll see you there.” I smiled over my shoulder, leaving him standing in the lobby, dumbfounded.  

The rest of the day flew by, as I powered through work, knowing I had to leave early to prepare for the gala. On the way home I stopped by a boutique, deciding to splurge on a dress. I had to dress to impress if I was going to help Steve land some donations tonight. Picking out a dress took more time than I had intended, I wanted to look good tonight, not for anyone in particular. Though the thought of Kendall kept creeping its way into my mind, which gown would he like? I wondered if he preferred red or black. No this is not about him, I tried to convince myself that I wanted to look good, feel sexy, for myself and not for the approval of anybody else. 

I rushed home cutting it close to 7 pm, I quickly showered and began getting ready. I decided to straighten my thick black hair which was a mistake as I was running short on time, Steve was picking me up at 8. I could already hear him complaining about my tardiness. I finished doing my makeup, adding a deep red lipstick. I slipped into my gown adjusting myself in the mirror. I had decided on wearing a black satin gown, with a deep plunge neckline. I can't remember the last time I put in this much effort for an event, or a person. I hated myself for caring so much about it. I heard my phone dinging alerting me that Steve had arrived. 

Steve : Uber. Downstairs. Now. Hurry. 

I hurriedly grabbed my valentino clutch, which I had thrifted when I first moved to the city, throwing my phone, cigarettes and lipstick in before scurrying out the door. I made my way out of the lobby and hopped into the uber greeting steve. 

“God could you have taken any longer.” he sighed dramatically, checking the time. “It's 8:05, what time did we agree on?”

“Calm your tits, the dinosaurs can wait 5 more minutes.” I rolled my eyes, checking my makeup in my compact mirror.

Steve finally looked over, taking in my appearance. “You clean up well. It's almost like an episode of catfish, you went from 0 to 100 in the span of a couple hours.” he chuckled. “Who are you looking this good for?” he smirked.

“Your dad.” I smirked, laughing when I saw Steve scrunch his face in disgust.” No you’re right, I should've pulled up in sweats and glasses, that would really attract all the 70 year old men into emptying their pockets for you.” I retorted. 

“Oh so you did all this for me?” He smiled, clutching a hand over his heart, wiping away a fake tear. “That's so kind of you. How can I ever repay you?”

“Shut up.” I swatted his arm. “Drinks are on you.” 

We shortly arrived at the venue, it was bustling with people who were much more important than me, people who could step on me and nobody would even protest, because among them I was the floor they walked on. I looked around at the sea of women wearing designer dresses from fendi to dior as they clutched an arm around men almost triple their age. Steve immediately began mingling, or as he called it networking, dragging me along with him. He grabbed us 2 complimentary champagnes from the wait staff as he began speaking to an older gentleman. 

“Mr Monroe, glad you could join us tonight. Where's the Mrs?” Steve greeted him as they shook hands. 

“Oh you know Mrs Monroe, she was in the Bahamas last and now I'm hearing she's in Milan for fashion week. She won't rest until she bleeds me dry from all I’m worth.” He forced a tight smile. “And who's your lovely date here?” He asked, glancing over at me before dropping his eyes down to my chest, lingering there for a moment. The urge to vomit all over him was so strong, but instead I brought my hand to shake his instead. 

“This is my dear friend Harper, Harper Aly.” Steve introduced me as the older man grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it, with no consent whatsoever. My stomach churned at the thought of this married man assaulting my hand with his mouth. I quickly pulled my hand back to my side, forcing a laugh as Steve continued talking business. 

This continued for another hour, we moved through the crowd of prehistoric men, buttering them up as they objectified me, raked their eyes up and down my body as they licked their crusty lips. I was on my 4th glass of champagne, but I needed something stronger if I was going to make it through the night. Steve handed me his card as I made my way over to the bar. I waved a hand to the bartender trying to get his attention, but he was preoccupied serving the other 100 people gathered around. I found myself glancing around, hoping to see a familiar set of brown eyes. I was acting like a lovestruck teenager at prom hoping to lock eyes with her crush.

“What can I get ya princess?” I turned to put a face to the voice, shocked when I realised who it was. “Yes, take it in.”

“Oh uhm it's okay thank you. I got it.” I smirked, flashing Steve’s card.  

“Roman fuck off and stop harassing the donor’s,” said the red head beside him. “Hi, Siobhan Roy.” She smiled politely, pushing past the shorter man to greet me.

“Oh hello, lovely to meet you. Harper Aly.” I smiled, clasping her hand, awkwardly shifting on my feet, feeling intimidated under her icy blue eyes. 

“So what brings a fine piece of arm candy like yourself here tonight? Let me guess your sugar daddy promised you a new Birkin?” He smirked, as his eyes raked over my dress. 

“Actually I'm here for work. And that is quite inappropriate coming from the co-COO of the company I work for.” I grimaced, not even trying to hide my disgust. 

“Oh my god Roman, you're disgusting. Go hit on Gerri or something. I'm sorry about him, he has some deep rooted mommy issues.” Siobhan apologised for her brother.

“Fuck off, Shiv.” He snapped pushing past her to lean over the bar.'' Hey! Yoohoo bartender! Over here! Roman Roy here!” He yelled, getting the bartender's attention, as he frantically rushed over. “2 whiskey on the rocks and …..” he looked over at me, ushering me to order what I wanted. 

“Oh no, its okay i can get my own-”

“Just fucking tell him what you want or you’re fired.” He said cutting me off with a devilish grin, I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

“two gin and tonics, please and make it a double.” I reluctantly answered.

“See now, was that so hard.” He smirked. “Two gin and tonics for the lady and make it fucking quick, I don’t have all night.” He demanded as the bartender nodded and instantly began concocting our drinks. 

“You can put away daddy’s card princess, I got this.” He said, his voice was low as he leaned into my ear. I looked around trying to find his sister who seemed to have him on a leash but she was engaged in a conversation with someone else. “Are you scared? I don’t bite.” He chuckled with dark eyes. “But no promises.” 

“No I'm not scared, sorry if my repulsion has been misconstrued.” I replied with a scowl setting on my face.

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “Don't forget, I still own the company you’re at the bottom of princess.”

“Own? That's interesting, because last I checked you’re not Logan Roy. You're just a sad little boy fighting for daddy's attention. Begging him to notice you, oh please daddy, please let me take over." I mocked pleading with my hands together

“Dont fucking turn me on right now.” He joked, biting his lip.

“Oh my god you're so repulsive.” I laughed.

“Hey Rome, have you seen Kendall?” A brunette asked, cutting into our conversation. 

“I dont fucking know maybe- have you checked the bathrooms? He's probably there snorting lines?” He shrugged casually.

“Rome. I'm serious.” She said, pressing her lips into a straight line. She finally caught my eye, brushing off Roman’s crude words, forcing a smile, silently looking over to him to introduce us.

“Uh yea sure- Rava, Harper Aly from waystar, I don’t know what the fuck she does there- I’m guessing janitor by her looks. Harper, Rava Roy, my brother's estranged wife.” He said flatly, before grabbing his drinks, throwing two hundred dollar bills on the counter, and with that he was gone— leaving me alone with kendall's wife? I stood there gobsmacked, processing the nuclear bomb Roman had just dropped on me. Kendall was married. Kendall was married when he kissed me on the roof. 

I quickly excused myself, not wanting to seem rude to the woman whose husband I had been sneaking around with, behind her back. I grabbed Steve and I’s drinks from the counter, chugging them both down as I made my way through the hall. I passed a waiter discarding my empty glasses on the tray and grabbing 2 glasses of god knows what, before downing them. Feeling the alcohol burn down my throat, hoping it would bring me some solace. My mind was the aftermath of Hiroshima. I couldn't think straight, or even walk straight for that matter. How could I have been so fucking stupid, tears pricked at my eyes, as I rapidly blinked trying to fight them back. How could I have trusted so blindly, again. At last I spotted Steve sitting down at our table, I made my way over to him trying to swallow back the lump in my throat. Not wanting to raise concern and a million questions he would ask. I slumped down in the seat beside him. 

“Hey, what took you so long? He asked, looking up from his phone. “And where's our drinks?” He frowned. 

“Oh shit, yea- uh, the line at the bar was too long.” I muttered keeping my eyes glued to the table.

“What's wrong?” He asked, shit he knew me too well and could sense that something was wrong. “Did you see someone?” He studied the slight tremble in my voice, my flushed skin, my lips curled into a frown.

“No, nothing.” I shook my head vigorously, trying to seem convincing. “I'm just tired.” I offered him a weak smile, hoping he wouldn't hear the slight slur in my voice. He just stared at me, contemplating whether to push it or not but ultimately decided against it. 

“Okay but just a heads up-,” he began, before getting interrupted by the screeching of a mic, as everyone rushed to be seated, the speeches were starting soon.

“What? I didn't hear you?” I slurred, looking up at him with heavy eyelids, at this point I’m sure he knew I was quite intoxicated as I propped my head up against my hand, trying to accommodate my dense head, now facing the consequences of trying to drown my sorrows in liquor. 

He shook his head, disregarding it muttering something about it not being important. The wait staff made their way around to serve wine. I insisted they fill my glass to the brim, thanking them through batted lashes. I heard Steve mumbling something about bringing some water to one of the waiters. 

“I think you should slow down.” He said, eyeing me as I continued to sip my wine. I chose to ignore him, until he forcefully took my half empty glass off me, handing it off to a passing waiter, cutting me off before I could protest. “Look I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you decided to get to this level of drunk at a work event. But we need to make it through to the end of the night.” He scolded, as he handed me a glass of water. “You can have more wine after dinner.”

“Whatever dad.” I rolled my eyes but still sipped on the water.

The speeches dragged on, but I wasn't listening to a single word of it, instead my mind was heavy, weighed down by concrete thoughts of one of one man and his betrayal. How he had manipulated me, how he had convinced me he was good, different. How I let myself believe him so easily. Had I learned nothing? I continued to berate myself. I snapped out of my thoughts, as the last speaker made his way onto the stage, and there he was. The very man responsible for my mental anguish. His eyes met mine, twinkling under the spotlight as he spoke. I couldn't take it anymore, I got up mumbling to Steve that I was going to the bathroom. I stumbled my way out of the long hall, ignoring the questioning looks I was receiving.

I made my way to the bathroom, slumping over the sink, collecting my thoughts, as I stared into the mirror taking in my pathetic reflection. God, I was so embarrassing, letting Kendall affect me like this. Letting him slither his way into my life like black mould, silent but deadly. The realisation hit me hard - I was the other woman. I let him sweep me off my feet, like a fucking idiot, but maybe that was his plan all along. A challenge in his eyes, he found a wounded bird, nurtured it back to life only to shoot it down in the end for his own enjoyment. I scoffed at myself, spending more than I could afford on a gown for him, a fact I wouldn't even admit to myself let alone another soul. The anger simmered in me like a pressure cooker, ready to blow any second. My self pity was quickly replaced by foul, hot fury. Fuck him. 

With newfound determination, I left the bathroom, determined to rid myself of Kendall's toxic presence. Yet, fate had other plans for me. As I made my way back towards the hall I collided with a broad set of shoulders.

“Oh- I'm so sorry-” I began to apologise but the words got cut off in my throat when I locked eyes with the attacker, my fucking ex-fiancé, Will. This was officially too much for one night. Without another word I turned on my feet and fled in the other direction, I needed to get away from him. What was he even doing here in the first place? I knew I was eventually  going to bump into him one day, it was inevitable, but just why tonight? When I was barely hanging on by a thread. This must have been the heads up Steve was trying to give me.              

“Harper please- just listen,” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip, but I couldn't bear to hear it. The mere sight of him was enough to make me sick to my stomach. “Let me explain, you at least owe me that much.”

“Let you fucking explain yourself Will? No, you lost that privilege when you ended up in bed with my fucking maid of honour.” I snapped, trying to keep my composure, digging my nails into his skin, trying to claw him off me. “I don’t owe you shit. So please kindly, fuck off out of my life forever.” Tears burned in the corner of my eyes, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me breakdown.

“Harper, just listen- I'm ready to take my part of the blame.” His eyes were hard, nothing about them was apologetic as he tightened his grip around me. “But it took 2 people to breakdown this relationship-”

“Yeah, you and my fucking so called bestfriend.'' I spat, the endless liquid poison I had consumed amplifying my rage. My words seemed to cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention of those around us. “Will I’m being so fucking serious, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’m going to fucking scream and make a scene right here, right now.” 

“Everything okay here?” A voice boomed emerging from the depths of hell, before I could erupt. Of-fucking-course Kendall made his way over to join the party, just what was missing. “She said let go.” Kendall commanded, clasping a firm hand on Wills back, the noise echoed through the lobby, his presence adding fuel to the fire.

Will's eyes hardened as he pushed my arm out of his grasp, I tumbled back from the force, Kendall quickly steadied me bringing a hand to my waist, as Will sulked his way back into the hall. I ripped Kendall’s arm off me with a huff and began making my way outside, almost tripping, ignoring his calls from behind. I was beginning to get a tension headache, it was all too much now. My ex-fiance cornered me and tried to tell me I was to blame for his affair and to pile on top of that Kendall, my boss had involved me in an affair, while failing to mention he was married. The cold air nipped at my skin as I continued pacing, with no direction, but I couldn't stay there for a second longer. I felt suffocated with my thoughts.

“Harper, wait. Are you okay?” Kendall called out from behind me, jogging to catch up.

“Leave me alone Kendall.” I shouted picking up my pace, but it was hard to do so  in my heels. He's the last person I wanted to see right now. I was a couple blocks away from the venue now.

“Just wait up- fuck. What's wrong?” He asked, concern etched on his face. I was so sick of people asking me that. No I’m fucking not fine, my life is falling apart at a rate so fast that I can’t even pick up the pieces and try to repair it. Each time I attempted to pick up one piece, three more came crashing down. 

He grabbed my aching wrist, that had just been assaulted by Will in an attempt to stop me. I flinched sucking in a sharp breath and he immediately let go. “Did he hurt you?” His eyes were two angry black points, his fists clenched by his side as he watched me try to soothe the pain away, rubbing my wrist with my good hand.

“Did he fucking hurt me? What about you kendall?” I lashed out, jabbing my finger in his chest. “What about you? Oh but of course you would never hurt me right? Because you’ve convinced me that you're such a great guy, always coming to my rescue. Is that what you want to hear?” He shook his head trying to understand where my aggression was coming from, how long did he think he could keep up the lie for? How long did he think he could keep this from me? “Fuck off and have a nice life with your wife.” I turned around and took off again, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he was going to pull out of his ass.

“Harper- I can explain.” I heard his footsteps still following me, from a distance. The audacity he had to continue following me after I had caught him red handed. What was it with men tonight trying to explain all their fuck ups to me. First Will and now kendall.

“That's great, go tell your wife.”

“Harper please- just fuck- just wait a second.” He persisted, running ahead of me and planting himself in front of me, towering over me. “My wife and I-”

“Kendall, I don't want to hear it. And I honestly don't care what you have to say. Nothing is going to change the fact that you're married. There's nothing for you to explain. So please just go.” I said exasperated, letting out a deep breath, closing my eyes not wanting to even look at his face. Bitter tears escaped from the corners of my eyes as my lips quivered. I hated myself for crying, I didn’t want him to think I was hurt by him, it was tears of frustration encouraged by my drunken mind. “This was all a mistake. You were such a mistake.” 

“Rava and I are separated.” He sighed, my eyes snapped open. “We've been separated for months.” 

“That doesn't mean anything to me. You don't mean anything to me.” I said, looking away from him, crossing my arms over my chest shivering, as the wind picked up. I felt him gently place his blazer around my shoulders. “It doesn't matter if you're separated, Kendall, you still should have told me.” l said, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands.

“I thought you knew. Everybody knows.” He exhaled, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“It doesn't matter, because whatever this thing between us is, or was. It's done.” I sniffled, looking up at him with flaming eyes. His face was crumpled up like a used tissue, as the blood drained from his face, he stood still for a second.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was heavy with regret. “Or are you just pushing me away because you're afraid?”

“Ofcourse I’m fucking afraid, I’m fucking terrified. Kendall in what world do we make it out of this on top? You are still my boss, this can't happen. Think about what people will say if they find out. Any accomplishment I've ever made will only be seen as because I was sleeping with the boss." I strained to explain, my voice cracking. “I've worked too hard to get to where I am. I've scraped my way up from the bottom. So I can't have this tarnish my reputation. Us even speaking right now is inappropriate, anyone could see this and report it to HR.” I didn't expect him to understand my predicament at all, he comes from money, I don't. We live in different worlds. His is full of private jet rides, maids, chefs, his biggest worry is trying to take over his father’s company. My world is subway rides, living off of cheap coffee and struggling to make rent each month.

“Harper, you don't have to worry about any of that, I promise you. I'll take care of you. I am HR, everything goes through me.” He argued softly grabbing my hands, his soft eyes boring into mine, the street lights illuminating them to appear a lighter haze colour. “If you want this, I can make it work. We can make it work.” Could we make it work? If he and his wife are separated, it still won’t be easy. Their lives will still remain entangled until they officially divorce. Will they even get divorced, what if they reconcile? The thoughts swirled in my head as I weighed out the pros and cons. 

“I need another drink.” I muttered taking in his words.

“Alright, let's get you another drink then. Lets ditch this gala, I can't stand to be around those people anymore.” He smirked victoriously, leaning in to meet my lips. 

“Not here.” I pressed my hands on his firm chest, even though I so desperately wanted him, the anger now simmering down in me. “And we can't be seen together in public. I don't need another scandal.”

“Okay.” He thought for a moment, I could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to find a way to keep me close to him. “Let's go back to my place, my chef can make us something to eat, since we're missing dinner.” I pressed my lips together, conflicted. Despite the allure of food and drinks, my heart pounded with uncertainty. The idea of returning to his place filled me with a sense of unease, a nagging voice of caution whispering in the back of my mind. Everything was happening so quickly, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to dive headfirst into the unknown. My stomach churned with hunger, a reminder of the alcohol swirling in my system, clouding my judgement. Food did sound appealing, but the thought of being alone with Kendall in the intimate setting of his home made me shift uncomfortably. It felt like too much, too soon. As I hesitated, my mind drifted back to our kiss, replaying the moment over and over again in my mind, as it burned in my core. I longed for his touch, for the warmth of his embrace, despite the complications and risks. 

“I also have a fully stocked bar.” He added, and all my nervous thoughts seemed to melt away. It was the final push I needed, the reassurance that I could drown my doubts in a haze of alcohol, numbing myself to the reality of our situation.

“Lead the way.” I nodded with a tentative smile 

“My driver is around back.” He said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and leading me to the car. He opened the door for me, “Ladies first.” 

“You are so cringe.” I laughed sliding in, before he sat next to me, shutting the door behind him. He was pressed up beside me, arm now around my waist, hand resting on my hip, his knee squished against mine. He put the partition up.

He turned to me, his gaze lingering on the silk gown that clung to my curves. "You look beautiful," he remarked, his voice soft and sincere. "The gown suits you perfectly."

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at his compliment, a warmth spreading through me despite my efforts to remain composed. "Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened as he continued to study me, his gaze filled with a mixture of admiration and something else, something I couldn't quite place. "I've been wanting to tell you that all night, from the minute you stepped foot into the hall." He confessed. "When I was making my speech, I could barely focus seeing you sat there, looking like- like a fucking godess."

“So why didn't you say it to me before?” I pouted, hearing the words I had been longing to hear all night. Not from the million other people there, but from him.

“Because I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself if you were standing in front of me in that hall.” His voice was low, in my ear sending waves of heat down my spine, aching in between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to control myself. He brought a hand to my jaw cradling it, “you're so fucking perfect.” He whispered, before crashing his lips into mine, the kiss was deep yet rough. He sucked my bottom lip as I let out a low moan, his hands roaming around my body like they had a fucking free pass, he squeezed my ass, earning another moan from me. The mixture of alcohol and lust in my system gave me the sudden confidence to pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, battling with his tongue for dominance. 

“Kendall-” I breathed against his lips. “Your driver- he’s- he’s gonna hear….” I trailed off as he began kissing down my neck, nipping and biting my sensitive skin, only stopping when the car was parked in front of his apartment building. He stepped out offering me a hand, which I accepted, trying to calm my thrashing heart.

We made our way into the elevator. “God, this fucking dress. Who did you wear it for?” He wrapped his arms around me, his hands resting on my ass, backing me up against the wall. 

“I wore it for you. Nice lipstick.” I giggled, sticking my index finger in my mouth and sucking it, letting release slowly with a pop. He watched me intensely letting out a low groan. I gently grazed my wet finger against his swollen cherry stained lips, attempting to fade away the remainder of my lipstick.

“Fuck.” He sighed, his eyes were dark. “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.” 

He lead me out of the elevator, unlocking the door to his penthouse, leaning down to place a peck on my lips. He guided me to the kitchen. I was in awe of the size of it, covered in shining black marble, not a speck of dust in sight. Across from the kitchen, the sitting room had floor to ceiling glass windows wrapping around the entire length of the apartment. I stood there admiring the view for a minute.

“Shit I sent the chefs home tonight because I had intended to stay out for dinner.” Kendall sighed leaning against the counter, shooting me an apologetic look. 

“It's okay. There was talk of a fully stocked bar no? Or was that a lie too?” I pouted, knowing that I needed something to calm the nerves in the pit of my stomach. 

“Yes, that I do have.” He laughed walking to the small bar area in the corner of the kitchen. There were endless shelves stocked with every type of spirit. Brands I couldn’t even pronounce, brands that I never even gave a second glance to in the liquor store, because I knew they were not in my price range. There was freshly cut lemons and limes, an ice bucket, a mini fridge stocked with mixers. So this is what heaven looks like. I climbed up over the counter, Kendall supporting my hips up to help lift me, I landed ungracefully on the other side with a thud. “What are you doing?” Kendall chuckled looking down at me amused.

I picked myself up, throwing a dish towel over my shoulder. “What can I get you?” I beamed at him.

“Fuck me, hottest fucking bartender ever.” He said with a crooked smile taking a seat on one of the barstools. “I'll take a whiskey on the rocks. When's your shift done sweetheart?”

“Sorry I don't date customers.” I winked, turning around to shovel some ice into a glass, grabbing one of the many bottles of expensive whiskey he had and pouring it in. I plonked a slice of lemon in it for a garnish. “And viola, here you are sir, your whiskey on the rocks.”

“Add it to my tab.” He smiled while taking a sip. ”And what will the beautiful lady be drinking?”

“Hmmm I’ve been drinking gin tonight, but why not spice it up with some whiskey.” I made myself a drink identical to Kendalls, taking a sip to admire my hard work and almost gagged as the corrosive liquid burned down my throat. “That is fucking horrible, how are you drinking it.” I gagged again, thinking it was a good idea to smell it and let it burn my nose too. 

“Hey don't blame the drink, blame the bartender.” He shrugged. “Add some mixer, there's coke in the mini fridge.”  

The coke made it a bit more bearable, but it still tasted like nail polish remover. I climbed over the bar again to seat myself on the barstool beside him. Taking another sip of my drink, scrunching my nose in disgust. “I don't know why you and your brother like this so much.”

“Oh so you met Roman?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yea he's- uh interesting to say the least.” Thinking back to the gala, I remembered Steve. “Oh shit, the gala- I ditched my date- fuck. One second.” I frantically pulled my phone out seeing the endless messages from Steve asking if I was okay, and where I had gone. I let him know that I had a run in with Will and was back home safe and sound, before turning my attention back to Kendall who had a quizzical look on his face.

“So this date of yours, was it the guy who was harassing you?” He furrowed his brows, as he gripped his glass, the veins in his forearm almost bursting.

“Fuck no, my date was Steve. The guy outside….” I trailed off trying to put into less vulgar terms. “...was my ex-fiance.” I grimaced and tilted my head back and downed the remainder of my whiskey. Kendall watched mouth agape, reaching over bringing the bottle of whiskey and coke from the counter, realising this was a difficult conversation for me. “I don't even know what he was doing there.” I ran a hand through my hair, propping my elbow on the counter and resting my head against it. Kendall refilled my glass, which I thanked him for.  

“Let me see your wrist.” He demanded, holding his hand out, gently inspecting the redness around my skin, he brought it to his lips kissing all over. I crossed my legs trying to stop the ache that had reawoken between my legs. He massaged my delicate wrist, I wished he would sooth my throbbing core like that. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” There was darkness in his eyes, his teeth were clenched, but his touch was so soft, making me want him all the more.

I shook my head, taking another gulp of my drink. “Not physically at least, so it's fine.” I waved it off, not waiting to dwell on Will's malignant existence any longer. “So uh, how much money did you  raise tonight?” I cleared my throat changing the topic. 

“No fucking clue.” He chuckled, as he refilled his drink. “My family is gonna be pissed that I ditched. You're a bad influence on me.” He teased.

“Me?” I shook my head in disbelief. “If anything you're a bad influence on me. You made me ditch poor Steve.” 

“Uh-huh, well you shouldn't have gone with him in the first place.” He huffed frustrated. “If you went with me, I would have made sure no one came within a 10 metre radius of you, your glass would have never been empty, and nobody would dare let their eyes linger on you for more than a second if you were on my arm.” His cockiness was reappearing, except instead of my usual repulsion, it turned me on and I hated it. Hearing him talk like this was sweet music to my ears, making my insides dance.

“I'll keep that in mind for next time.” I felt my cheeks flush, partially from the alcohol but also from his possessiveness over me. 

“So there’s gonna be a next time huh?” he grinned from ear to ear.

We continued chatting about general stuff like work, what our interests were, how life was going. Kendall getting deep and telling me about his family, his childhood, his goals in life. He pried, trying to get to know more about me and I reluctantly gave him a few short responses about my personal life. We ended up on the sofa, comfortably sat next to each other, shoulders brushing against one another. I leaned back in the seat resting my eyes, as the room began to spin slightly. Kendall took another swig from the bottle, we had long ditched our glasses on the counter. The conversation drifted back to our exes, I was too drunk to even hold back this time, as was Kendall.

He handed the bottle back to me. “Yea- being married fucking sucks so much.” He said throwing his arms up exasperated. “I fucking married the wrong person. But at the time, I was like fuck yea this feels fucking right.”

“Yeah- I like- really and I mean like really really dodged a bullet there. Like I’m like- not even mad about it. Fuck getting married.” I slurred, agreeing with him.

“100 fucking percent fuck marriage, it ruined me.”

“But like, you’re still uh married? Why? Just like get a fucking divorce?” 

“It’s complicated. I want to and so does she, but it’s just- pass me the fucking bottle.” He closed his eyes, taking another gulp, not even phased by it. “But it’s just fucking hard.”

“What like- don’t tell me you’re still- like in love with her.” I asked, letting out an overly dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes.

“No- no, I mean- I do love her. I’m always gonna have love for her. I’ve known her for 15 fucking years. But I don’t know- I want her to be happy.” He sighed undoing his bow tie and collar. “But we are getting a divorce, that is definitely fucking happening.”

“Mhmm.”

“And fucking what about Bill? What’s his deal?”

“Ugh him again.” I laughed, not even bothering to correct Kendall. “I think you have a crush on him, you bring him up more than me.”

“Come on, you just heard about my failed marriage, stop being so fucking cagey.”

“Pass me the fucking bottle.” He handed it over to me and I took a swing of it, hissing as it made its way down my oesophagus. “Fine, what about him? We were together since I was like 19 or maybe 20 I think. Or actually maybe 18? I don’t know- I like met him in college. But I used to be a fucking idiot back then- like I’m talking crackhead level stupid. I made so many bad decisions he was definitely the fucking worst one.” I continued rambling. “It was good at first you know, he said what I wanted to hear, did what I asked of him.” I hiccuped between words, reliving my past relationship. “But at the same time like- it wasn’t?” 

Yeah- for sure.” He nodded, leaning back against the sofa with his hands resting behind his head, looking over at me, his eyes barely open. “Young love, I think college is the real thing to blame. You know? That’s where I met Rava and you met what’s his face.”

“You’re so fucking right.” I gasped, his words making complete sense in my barely functioning brain. “Like college romance needs to be banned. Like stop fucking around and open like a book or something.” We continued talking about everything and anything, coming up with our own philosophies that were so illogical but they made sense to us. Between us we shared one singular brain cell, after consuming an unhealthy amount of whiskey.

Wanting to put my feet up on the sofa, I attempted to unbuckle the straps of my heels, but failed miserably. I let out an exasperated sigh, lying back on the sofa and stretching my legs, bringing my feet to rest in his lap. “Can you get these off please.” I whined almost knocking over the bottle of whiskey which I had carelessly left on his white sofa. He picked it up  and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Fuck- why is there so many fucking buckles.” He grumbled as he attempted to undo the singular buckle, concentrating like he was deactivating a bomb. He gave up and brought it up to his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth, letting my aching foot free, his hot breath on my skin sent an electric shock up my leg. He did the same with the other foot. Before looking over to me with a sinister grin and started tickling me.

“KENDALL stop.” I shrieked sitting up, thrashing and kicking away his hands. Attempting to get my revenge I brought my fingers to his neck tickling him, as he squirmed under me, I was practically straddling him. He grabbed both my hands in his, realising the compromising position we were in, feeling him hardening under me, I grabbed his neck, closing the gap between us. He kissed me back with hunger, like he had been deprived of food and water for years. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth. His touch was more rough now, as his hands gripped and caressed my ass, kneading it like fine dough. He pulled me closer to the pine scent of his body, a cigarette smoked not so long ago lingering on his shirt. I began subconsciously grinding my hips against the tent in his pants, trying desperately to create some friction to soothe my throbbing centre. His warm hands slid under the skirt of my dress, rubbing them up and down my thighs, inching them higher each time. His fingers were getting dangerously close to my soaking panties, my breath hitched. Feeling my body tense against his, he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

“Kendall ….” I said breathless, looking down, feeling embarrassment wash over me. “I- I haven’t done this in a while. Like in a really, really long time actually.” 

“Hey, hey it’s okay baby.” He released my thighs, bringing his hands out from under my dress and cradled my chin, making me meet his gaze. Hearing the sweet nickname fall from his mouth turned me on even more.

“I’m just nervous.”

“Why? You don’t have to be nervous, I'll take care of you.” He pressed his lips to my temple.

“I’ve only been intimate with like one person.” I said shyly.

“You’re so fucking innocent baby.” He brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “We don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with. Just tell me to stop.” His voice is rich, frail, as he empathised. He pulled my body into an adorning embrace, holding me like I was made of glass

“No-no I want this. I want you. Can we just take it slow.” Yet the realisation was prominent, that there would be no going back, once I went through with it. But at that moment I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t care, I just wanted him.

His gaze relaxed moderately as he soothed his hands up and down my back, almost as if to assure himself of the words he had just heard. His lips met mine again, he got up from the sofa, hoisting me up, I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me to his room. The anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed me, my heart beating out of my chest. He gently placed me on the bed, lying me down on my back as he hovered over me, lips not leaving mine once. I traced his firm chest with my fingertips, drawing him into me. He began kissing down my neck, smiling against my skin as I let out a soft moan. Leaving a trail of kisses down to my cleavage. My dress shielded my breasts, nipples already hard through the fabric.

He brought his delicate hands to the straps of my dress. “Can I take this off?” I nodded, no longer capable of getting any words out, my mind foggy with lust.

“So beautiful, so fucking perfect baby.” He pulled down my dress, admiring my exposed breasts, the cold air quickly replaced by his wet mouth as he sucked on my nipple, twirling his tongue around, cupping my other breast, squeezing it tight. Swapping over to the other, placing sloppy kisses, pushing it deeper in his mouth savouring every inch of skin. My hands tugged at his hair as pleasure took over me.

“Kendall.” I gasped as he bit and nipped at my scorching skin. His free hand moved down from my hip to caress my inner thigh, ghosting over my panties. “Kendall please.” I begged, so needy for his touch, spreading my legs wider for him, grinding my hips up. 

He unlatched his mouth from my breast. “Is this okay?” He locked eyes with me as his hand rubbed up and down over the soaked fabric. 

“Yes- yes. I- it’s perfect.” I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Suspense bubbled in me, he was going so painfully slow. He slid my panties to the side, gently and languildy his fingers expertly teased the swollen nub of my clit, rubbing soothing circles. 

“Your so fucking wet baby. How does that feel?” He cooed, my mind couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. It felt so good, I hadn’t been touched like this in so long, I was so deprived. “Does it feel good?”

“So good.” I sighed. “Feels so good Ken-“ the words got cut off in my throat as he moved his digits towards my slit. 

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” He was enjoying this, a lazy smile playing at his lips as he watched me squirm. His eyes burned into mine, seeing me so needy for him, so desperate for his touch. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Come on, use your words.” I should've known that he would make me beg, I should've known that he would be so good to me.

“Yes, please- please just-“ He pushed his middle finger inside my tight cunt. “Just like that.” I cried out as he pumped a finger in and out of me. My mind felt hazy, he added another finger, stretching me out, pumping faster now, curling his fingers as I let out a string of moans. I whined my disappointment as he removed his fingers from me, missing the fullness. 

“I need to taste you, let me taste you.” He pleaded, getting on his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed. He hiked my dress up to my waist, hooking his fingers under my panties and pulling them down my legs, revealing my smooth freshly shaven pussy. I sat up feeling self conscious. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.” He murmured, pressing a hand down on my chest to lay me back down. “Let me take care of you.” He began kissing up my inner thigh, gripping his hands firmly around my hips holding me in place. He worked his way closer and closer, eventually leaning in ever so slowly and licked all the way up my slit, tasting me. My eyes fluttered shut as he placed his hot mouth on my clit, sucking it like a pacifier, the fuzz of his stubble tickling me lightly. I could feel the pressure building up inside me, I ran my hands through this hair grasping it softly as he continued lapping his tongue up and down my slit greedily, fucking me with his tongue. His tongue travelled lower and lower, gently grazing over my tight rosebud.

“Have you ever had your ass eaten?” He looked up at me.

“No.” I squirmed, he sensed my uneasiness. 

“Do you want to feel good, baby?” He asked circling his tongue around my wrinkled rosebud again, it felt fucking good, sending shivers up my spine.

“Yes, please- please make me feel good.” I begged between gasps. He gripped my ass, spreading my cheeks apart, to give himself more access as continued to worship my tight pink bud. The sensation felt different, unlike anything I had experienced before but it felt so good. His index finger rubbed soothing circles around my pink hole.

“Do you trust me?” 

I looked down at him, seeing his face buried between my thighs. “Yes- yess fuck I do Kendall.” I panted. 

He opened his mouth letting a string of spit fall down and pool down on my rosebud and slid his finger into my tight hole. “Just relax baby.” He murmured.

“Kendall.” I whimpered at the foreign sensation, it hurt so good. My quivering walls grasped his finger tightly at first adjusting to the intrusion, but soon his finger glided deep in my ass. I was grinding my hips against him, my aching cunt deprived of his attention. I needed him everywhere all at once. He brought his face back to my dripping pussy, devouring me, sucking every crease, crevice and fold before latching onto my clit again. He alternated between fast and slow flicks of affection, using his free hand to pump 2 digits in my dripping wet cunt.

Hearing the sounds of his wet tongue on me continued building up the pressure in my lower abdomen, getting tighter and tighter. My senses heightened and my hands desperately fisted the bed sheets, sweat sheening my brow. “You're so close aren't you sweet girl? Cum on my face.” His dirty talk, sending me over the edge, my back arching into him.

“Oh fuck- Kendall.” I choked out throwing my head back, eyes rolling to the back of my head. My mind exploded in a white, pleasure filled haze as the sensations from his relentless assault on my clit and his finger plunged in my forbidden orifice all while simultaneously pumping 2 digits in my cunt. Grabbing a fist full of his hair, grinding my hips against his face, I rode out my high. Legs trembling, my ass spasmed clenching around his finger as he continued to fuck me though my orgasm, he hummed in satisfaction against my clit. He removed his hands from me, placing one final tender kiss on my sensitive clit, making me jump.

He brought his face back up to my crimson cheeks and eyes glossy. He caressed my face as I panted for air, my chest heaving. “You did so good, baby.” He cooed, stroking my hair, as I came down back to Earth. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, making me taste myself against his lips. 

I regained some composure bringing my shaky hands up and palming at his hardness through his pants. “Fuck.” He groaned burying his head into my neck. I hastily undid his belt buckle, he helped me shimmy his trousers and boxers off, his cock sprung out bouncing against his stomach. I wriggled out from under him, flipping us over to straddle him, rubbing my wetness against his dick. “Fucking so good baby.” He sat up, undoing my zipper with a quick motion of his fingers and tossing my dress over his shoulder. I was fully exposed now, I felt so naked, so bare in front of him as I covered my face with my hands, feeling so small. He brought my hands down, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “You just came on my face, don't get shy on me now.” He smirked.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes and began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and threw it on the ground. Bringing my fingers to his thick cock, a few veins ran up his shaft, the swollen pink head dripping with precum at the sight of me. I started pumping him, locking eyes with him as I spat down on his cock for some lubrication, he hissed grabbing my hips tightly. A surge of courage took over me, pushing him down on the bed, I lifted my hips hovering over his cock, I grabbed it rubbing it up and down my slit, he gaped up at me. I lined it up against my entrance, ready to lower myself on him, he held my hips in place stopping me.“You want to ride me? Are you sure Harper? You don't have to.” His eyes grew with concern.

“No, I want to Kendall, I want to ride you. Just- please- just let me ….let me make you feel good.” I whined, he sighed agreeing, keeping his eyes on me as I lowered myself down on him, he was so much bigger than Will, so much thicker, I could only take him a little at a time. Soft moans left my mouth as I was half way down his cock, his firm grip on my hips being the only thing keeping me up right, stopping me from crumbling down, as the sensation of his thick cock mixed with the alcohol pulsing through my blood was making me feel lightheaded.

“You're doing so good.” He groaned, momentarily shutting his eyes. “So good baby, taking my cock so well.” He let me work at my own pace as his breathing quickened slightly. “I know you can take me, all of me.” I lifted up off him again, and sank back down, taking all of him, the stretch was far too intense. He was so deep in me, I could feel him in the pit of my stomach. I bit my lip, trying to suppress my whimpers, silent tears streaming down my face, as I clawed at his chest. My lips unintentionally curled into a slight frown. “Fuck- are you okay Harper.” 

“Fuck- yeah I’m fine you’re just- just a lot to take.” I whimpered, looking down at him through heavy eyelids, trying to adjust to his length and girth, but I could barely move at this angle without feeling the sting of pain. He swiftly flipped us over, cock still engulfed deep in me as my head crashed onto the soft pillows. 

“It’s okay baby, let me take care of you.” He murmured, between soft kisses on my trembling lips. “I’ll be so gentle.” He reassured me, showering my face with kisses, his thumb wiping away stray tears from my cheeks. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes.” I breathed in a shallow breath, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck.

 He pulled out of me, sinking back in me ever so slowly. “Fuck your so tight.” He hissed. I cried out, feeling so full again. His balls rested against my core with his cock sheathed all the way in, I took in slow, shallow breaths, attempting to soothe the burning away. I could feel each inch of him, each ridge, each curve of his meaty cock inside me. “You're doing so good, baby. You feel so good.” He groaned in my ear, his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back for me. He pulled all the way out again and plunged back in a few more times, letting my walls accommodate him. Careful not to thrust, taking his time, being so patient, so gentle just like he promised.

“Kendall, please.” I moaned, dragging my nails down his back, the pain melted away, pleasure overtaking me as the tip of his cock, hit a spot deep in me, igniting a fire that only he could put out. My walls were practically pulsing around him now, begging for more.

“What is it baby?” He asked, searching my eyes. 

“Fuck me.” I rasped, my eyes fluttering shut. After gaining my approval he sighed in relief and thrusted his cock in me roughly, at a brutal pace. My eyes flew open, I gasped digging my nails into his biceps. His fingers dug into my hips as I wrapped my legs around his waist, needing to feel him deeper, quivering under him. “Feels so good Ken.” I moaned in his mouth, at some point our lips must have entangled again. His eyes never leaving mine, praises of encouragement falling from his lips.

“You look so good taking my cock, sweet girl.” Overwhelmed, my body trembled with each thrust, stretching me out, the waves of pleasure flooding me whole, coursing through me. Broken breaths paired with his name fell from my lips, parted slightly. 

His cock dwelled deeper in me, my taut muscles milking his cock. “Listen to the sounds you're making, baby.” The sounds my cunt made each time he pumped in, they were so sinful, so wet. “You’re so wet for me baby.” Hearing the word baby fall from his lips made me even wetter.

“Mhmm.” I let out a string of embarrassingly loud moans, not being able to  find a singular word in the English language to describe the euphoric feeling. He jerked faster, his cock throbbing in me, twitching pulsating, muffled moans scattering his breath. His sizeable dick sliding into my wetness with ease now, like he fucking owned it.

My breasts bounced under him, as he fucked me mercilessly his cock splitting me inch by inch, it felt so good I was seeing stars. He pressed his face to my chest, placing sweet kisses, tasting my salty skin, kissing back up my neck. “I need more.” I moaned, as he continued pounding into me. He released one of his hands from my hips and brought it to my touch starved clit, rubbing aggressive circles. I was in complete bliss as I felt my orgasm build. “Don't stop.” I begged. His balls slammed against me with each thrust. 

“Ken I’m-”

“Fuck- me too,” sweat beaded across his forehead, as his skin flushed pink. “Cum for me baby, you've been so good, you deserve it. You're so fucking good for me.” Hearing his praise sent me over the edge again, as I let out incoherent moans and gasps. He groaned as I dug my nails into him, drawing blood. He drew back, balancing on his knees, grabbing my ankles and throwing them over his shoulders, he fucked me relentlessly, with harsh thrusts as I rode out my high clenching around his unforgiving cock. I practically sobbed feeling each curve of his cock as he buried himself deeper into me, tears pricking my eyes. He let out a haggard breath before pulling out and releasing on my stomach, collapsing on me, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. I ran my hands through his hair soothing him as his chest heaved against mine. 

“Fuck.” He rolled off me to lay beside me, he cradled my jaw, pressing a tender kiss on my lips. “You're fucking amazing.” He got up leaving the room and returned in his boxers carrying a damp towel. He gently grazed my skin, cleaning up his mess. He was doing exactly what he said he would, taking care of me. He dabbed the towel over my abused cunt, I winced feeling the soreness his girth left behind. “Sorry. Do you need anything?” His eyes softened.                                    

“Water please.” I rasped, smiling as he scurried off. No one had ever taken care of me like this before, not even the man who claimed to love me. I retrieved my panties bunched up on the ground, sliding them on before throwing on Kendall’s button down. He returned with a cold bottle of water, leading me back to the bed, he drew the comforter back, pulling me under with him. I winced again coming in contact with the mattress. I pressed the water bottle between my legs, trying to soothe the stinging. 

Kendall’s brows furrowed in concern, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turning to face me. “Fuck- sorry, was I too rough?” He asked with apologetic eyes.

“No, no you were perfect.” I let out a small laugh, seeing him get so worried about me. “She’s just out of practice.” I said gesturing down to my core. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He glanced down at the water bottle. “To uh, help her I guess.” 

“She’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I reassured him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Uh, okay so thank you for the lovely evening, but I like- have to get going now.” I sighed, slithering off the bed, trying to keep my weight off my pelvis. I stood up, my legs still wobbling from the aftershocks of the not one but two ground shattering orgasms I received.

“What? No, you don’t have to leave. Stay.” Kendall sat up on the edge of the bed, grabbing my hips pulling me into him from behind, his cheek resting on my ass, before I could leave. 

“I can’t, Kendall we both have work in the morning and I certainly can’t fucking wear last night's dress in.” I argued, trying to wriggle out of his grip. 

“I wouldn’t mind it if you showed up to work everyday in that dress.” I felt him smiling against me.

“Kendall seriously…” He pulled me down onto his lap gently placing a hand between my legs, cupping around my soreness, relieving some weight off it. My back was pressed against his firm chest, as he rested his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his other arm around my waist.

“It’s Saturday tomorrow.” His chuckle vibrated through my entire body. “Please just stay, you're drunk and walking like Bambi. Just let me take care of you Harper.” How could I say no to his sweet words? I begrudgingly agreed and got back under the covers with him, he kept his arms around me, holding me close. 

“You’re impossible.” I rolled my eyes. 

“I always get what I want.” He smirked. 

“Oh I need to go get-" I shifted taking his arm off my waist

“What? What do you need? I'll get it.” He cut me off. “You stay here and rest.” His tone was stern.

“My phone.” I said sheepishly. 

And without another word he rushed off again, returning moments later with my clutch in one hand and an ice pack in the other. He put it between my legs holding it in place, I closed my heavy eyelids sighing in relief. “You're so good to me Ken” I whispered resting my head on his chest before dozing off.

“You deserve it and so much more baby.”

Chapter 4 and onwards

[bijoumikhawal]

Mesotherms in Trek

Mesotherms are an intermediary between ectothermy and endothermy, and I won't lie trying to research them is a pain in the ass because a lot of mesothermic species do not exist anymore (hi dinos) or are discussed primarily in terms of endothermy.

The characteristics of mesotherms are as such: they can raise their internal body temperature via metabolism, and they cannot exert particular metabolic control of a particular temperature. This means they have a greater range of internal temperatures they're subject to than most mammals (aka they're poikilothermic or heterothermic), and can keep their body temperature as much as 20 degrees higher than their environment in some species, but it and their metabolism will drop as ambient temperatures drop. They do not burn fat or shiver to warm up. They are more active than ectotherms, and require less food than endotherms.

Real life mesotherms include: hyraxes, naked mole rats, echidnas, leatherback sea turtles, tuna, certain sharks, and possibly the Argentine giant tegu (it's more accurately heterothermic).

Supposing ectothermy and endothermy are two poles on a spectrum, one could lay out these three species, from left to right, as such: Cardassians, Trill, then Bajorans.

Bajorans

Bajorans evolutionarily descend from heterothermic mesotherm underground rodents. Their temperature tolerance range varies slightly depending on where on Bajor their ancestry is from, but the primary factor is where they and their parents grew up. Even with this variance, knitting and crochet are popular in Bajoran textile production for warmth.

Ideal temperature: 65f-80f accommodates most Bajorans even with the varying tolerance.

Treatments/concerns: their temperature range has overlap with the climate controls on many Federation vessels, so most Bajoran crew don't have to seek out accommodations when serving in Starfleet. If a Bajoran has temperature concerns, adjustments to quarters climate controls are usually sufficient. In emergencies, the first thing to do is move the patient to an area with a 10 degree temperature greater or lesser than the current one (depending on which issue it is). If not possible, employing temperature packs, dressing and undressing, and so on can usually alleviate the matter greatly.

Cardassians

Cardassians are the most visually obvious mesotherms. This owes not only to their reptilian appearance, but also to the fact that their skin lightens or darkens depending on temperature as a method of regulation: darker for cold temperatures, lighter for hotter. Different “base” colors cluster roughly to geographic heritage, however all Cardassians have more or less the same tolerance medically (some Cardassians train to function better in cold temperatures, but the health affects remain similar). Cardassians are poikilotherms.

Ideal temperature: 86f-95f, with a basking temperature of 110f minimum.

Treatments/concerns: as mesotherms are subject to environmental temperature, all three exhibit some degree of basking behavior, however Cardassians particularly have developed a culture around it (and often will partake in behavioural fever). Federation vessels are always about 10 degrees too cool and unless crewed by ectothermic species, have little or no basking opportunities. Cardassians are fine on Federation vessels for limited time frames without accommodation for this and other reasons, but long term residence requires accommodation to prevent serious health problems, such as malnutrition and gout. It is inadvisable for non-medical personnel to undress a Cardassian experiencing temperature issues as their clothing insulation helps keep temperature constant, not just warm.

Trill

There are two different major populations of Trill: those on the northern contenients who have protrusions on the face and those on the southern contenients who have spots. The North-South distinction can be seen in how Southern Trill like Jadzia wear thicker uniforms when avaliable, and that the dress of civilians is made of heavy fabrics like brocade. The Northern Trill’s face protrusions are sinus related. Trill are poikilotherms.

Ideal temperature: 60f-75f for Northern Trill, 70-85f for Southern Trill.

Treatments/concerns: joined Trill are even more sensitive to temperature shifts than unjoined Trill, as the internal temperature the symbiont can tolerate is a much narrower range (about 5~ degrees, much like humans). They also often run hotter than unjoined Trill, so Jadzia and Lenara need to try and keep their temperatures around 80-85f. Part of the concern of the joining process is making sure a symbiont and its host having matching internal temperature ranges; the populations of different pools have symbionts with different tolerances. This is a limiting factor to enabling symbionts a variety of experiences and is an area of research the symbiosis commission has flagged as of interest. Trill from one population with an abnormal temperature range are often more likely to be selected for joining, but aren't especially common.

Cardassians and Trill, in addition to temperature, generally need more humidity in their environment than is usual on Federation vessels not operated with such needs in mind, though for different reasons. Also like Cardassians, it is inadvisable to undress a Trill experiencing temperature regulation issues for the same reason previously stated.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Any thoughts on the casting for The Last of Us season 2?

Oh god. So many.

So, I actually have all of TLOU show related tags blocked - because just seeing mentions of the show gets me kind of ticked. I miss the strike era when production of the show was delayed indefinitely.

But as far as the casting - I think Dina's casting is alright. I was one of those people who was naively hoping that Cascina would actually get to play Dina in the show, but I knew realistically that was never actually gonna happen.

Abby's casting however - I genuinely think that Kaitlyn Denver is a horrible choice. Like they looked up all the people who absolutely cannot play Abby and then they picked her.

Someone said that she looks like young Ellie - and I think for a long time, she was a popular fancast for Ellie. And to me, she looks like she can maybe only play young Abby in flashbacks. So unless they're gonna completely surprise people and only have her playing young Abby and then have someone else playing the real main timeline version of Abby - it won't work.

If you guys know me, then you know that I am incredibly protective of Abby's character. And based on the complete bastardization that they did of Season 1/TLOU 1, I already knew that they were going to royally fuck up Abby's character in some way.

And yes, I am basing most of my opinions on the fact that she is small and thin and Abby is supposed to be muscled, but people don't understand how pivotal that aesthetic is as a part of Abby's characterization.

(And they were never going to find someone perfect unless they used 2 different actors - one for flashbacks and one for the main timeline - because Abby gets ripped over years but it is shown in one short story, and her model was made with 2 different people - one for the face and one for the body, so they could keep her face on a younger, thinner body in flashbacks.)

Abby being muscled is actually a pivotal thing - it means she is feared and respected among the WLF, it means that Lev and Yara immediately fall in and trust to follow her through the woods because they view her as a protector when they are vulnerable and alone. Her body is a tool that is useful to her - it makes her completely immune to Isaac's violence right up until the moment she looks him in the eyes and asks him not to shoot Lev, and even then, he is asking her to step away from Lev so that he doesn't have to kill his best solider.

Isaac was more willing to kill Owen - thinking of Owen as disposable - than he was willing to kill Abby. And I think that breach of our society's typical sexism (where a man is always a better fighter, Abby supersedes that) in their post apocalyptic world, is really, truly shown by Abby's large stature.

Not only that, but it makes her physical malnutrition and how much she has wasted away because of the Rattlers that much more shocking. (Which, if they were going to depict that, it would be easy to do so with a heavily muscled actor and then make them look shockingly thin with CGI and makeup - but that scene is one of the reasons why video games are sometimes a better format. It being 100% computer generated means no actors had to be harmed during those scenes.)

Also (I wish I had screenshots of the specific lines) - but Abby and Owen's breakup at the Aquarium is about her training (her urge to gain muscle in order to aid of her long term revenge mission toward Joel) - Owen is surprised when Abby says she can bench press 140 pounds, and therefore, she can easily lift him. And Owen is insulted that Abby wants to spend more time training than she does with him - he is upset that her trauma and her revenge has overtaken her life to the point where she doesn't want to goof off watching spotted seals, and instead - just wants to train more.

And this leads more into the dynamic of - Owen is a disposable pawn (who pretends to take a pacifist stance when he's really a coward) and Abby has to vouch for his life with Isaac because she is infinitely more valued in the organization.

There is just a lot of layers to it - and they're already fucking it up.

I am trying my hardest to ignore the fact that she show exists, but it's actively lowering the IQ of the fandom every single day, and now I am gonna have to take braindead Abby takes from people who have only seen the show, and I genuinely wish it had never been made in the first place.

[laddersofsweetmisery]

There's nothing I can't stand more than elitist perspectives from supposed academics. Academia is a PRIVILEGE to pursue. You were lucky. You had just the right foundation, just the right experiences, and just the right support.

I was homeless, raised by addicts, and severely malnutritioned from the ages 12 to 20. I remember having to melt snow in the winter just to wash my hair and it was still a privilege for me to acquire a literary degree. I had just the right people looking out for me and just the right life experiences to encourage my interests. I've never considered myself without privilege nor have I believed 'I worked hard to get here, so I deserve it.' The truth is that thousands of people work hard and everyone deserves it, but their resources differed from mine and yours. I just had the right circumstances to encourage my educational pursuits.

Not everyone has that.

Even in my most unluckiest moments, I was lucky to receive an education.

If someone stumbles into dark/light academia for the vibes alone and ends up learning about art history, poetry, new books to read and obsess over...then THAT'S A GOOD THING. I view the aesthetic as a gateway towards learning. Telling others they have no place in academia is so counterintuitive and can make them resentful. If you can make education more palatable and more easily digested, why wouldn't you support that? If you truly love academia, then you will love all facets and not just the parts that allow you to stroke your ego.

I believe education is a privilege and we must take our privileges as a chance to educate ourselves so that we can educate others at a more affordable rate. To me, having the opportunity to receive a quality education means you now have a civic duty to pass on that knowledge to those who couldn't afford the same opportunities.

Education is not a pathway to superiority, it is a journey towards empathy and civic engagement.

I share my poetry and other writings not because I think I'm good. I share because someone somewhere might need to hear it. I found my love for literature when I stumbled into Instagram poetry at 13 years old--a realm of poetry that receives immense backlash from supposed 'lovers-of-the-written-word.' Now, I obsess over John Milton, the Brontë's, and Mary Hays.

Accessibility is vital to academic communities. These communities that utilize the aesthetic to encourage involvement are doing good in the world even if you think it to be frivolous. They are exposing those who may not have originally been interested in education due to their foundations and experiences to wear a cozy sweater, make some tea, pick up a book, head to their local art museums, and pursue something they didn't know was available to them.

I support the Colleen Hoover girlies, I support the Instagram poets, I support the aesthetic followers, I support ACOTAR, I support fanfiction. I support words and what they can do for others no matter the form.

In a world where literacy rates are at a low, encouragement and accessibility are our greatest tools.

Do not weaponize education for your own egocentric objectives. It is a selfless communal endeavor to enrich the way we understand, interact, and positively influence the institutions around us.

Most children enjoy learning about the world around them, ask yourself, 'What made them stop loving it?' and then, ask yourself, once more, 'Could it have been people like me?'

Mary Hays via Mr. Francis said it best: "When the minds of men are changed, the system of things will also change...Let us remember, that vice originates in mistakes of understanding, and that, he who seeks happiness by means contradictory and destructive, is emphatically the sinner. Our duties, then, are obvious--If selfish and violent passions have been generated by the inequalities of society, we must labour to counteract them, by endeavoring to combat prejudice, to expand the mind, to give comprehensive views, to teach mankind their true interest, and to lead them to habits of goodness and greatness...Let it, then, be your noblest ambition to co-operate with, to join your efforts, to those of philosophers and sages, the benefactors of mankind...everyone in his sphere may do something; each has a little circle where his influence will be availing."

-Memoirs of Emma Courtney, by Mary Hays

For those interested in learning from the security of home when you can't afford the privilege of a classroom, here are some links that I've enjoyed and perused multiple times throughout the years. They are FREE OF ANY COST. Have fun with education in whatever ways you can and feel free to ask me if your interested in further resources or just want to chat. I don't know everything, but I'll do what I can to help. Check out Perseus at https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/

Holy shit, they've got it all! I use it for their Dictionary of Greek and Roman biography and mythology, but there is so much more to learn to and explore. The Mission of Perseus: "Our larger mission is to make the full record of humanity - linguistic sources, physical artifacts, historical spaces - as intellectually accessible as possible to every human being, regardless of linguistic or cultural background."

Check out Project Gutenberg at https://www.gutenberg.org/

Project Gutenberg is a library of over 70,000 free eBooks! They have a lot of free classics, so if you're struggling to afford books for school, this is an excellent resource!

Love poetry? Interested in Emily Dickinson? Then, read The Prowling Bee at https://bloggingdickinson.blogspot.com/?m=1

The Prowling Bee is a blog by Susan Kornfield. I love hearing her insight into the poems and hearing from someone passionate about Dickinson's work!

Check out the John Milton Reading Room at https://milton.host.dartmouth.edu/reading_room/contents/text.shtml

This one is a favorite of mine! It includes the complete poetry and selected prose of John Milton, with introductions, research guides, and hyperlinked annotations.

Interested in journalism? Check out The Outlaw Ocean Project at https://www.theoutlawocean.com/

The Outlaw Ocean Project is a non-profit journalism organization based in Washington D.C. that produces investigative stories about human rights, labor, and environmental concerns on the two thirds of the planet covered by water. The content they produce is so vital, I couldn't recommend it more highly.

Additionally, you can sign up for some newsletters so you can receive articles in your inbox everyday! My favorites are:

The Literary Hub at lithub.com

The Literary Hub is an organizing principle in the service of literary culture, a single, trusted, daily source for all the news, ideas and richness of contemporary literary life.

JSTOR Daily at https://daily.jstor.org/

JSTOR Daily is a daily magazine that contextualizes current events with scholarship found on JSTOR. They are published by JSTOR, the nonprofit digital library of scholarly journals, books, images, audio, research reports, and primary sources. JSTOR Daily stories are what we like to call academic adjacent—they are carefully researched and written by experts for a general audience. Each piece  provides historical, scientific, literary, political, and other background for understanding our world. 

[i-am-a-meat-popcicle]

Are you interested in more Fe3h worldbuilding lore because there's so much implicit stuff!! You can look at the character and country name and what they reference, the way the dress, or even what Fe3h is inspired from ( did you know the game take a lot of inspiration from Irish culture )!

For example, did you know that Sothis correspond to the Egyptian goddess Sopdet? She's the personification of the star Sirius, a reference to how Sothis come from space which lead to her being called "Fell Star" by the Agarthans. But more importantly, Sopdet is linked to the annual flooding of the Nile! It join how Sothis flooded Fodlan "In the land of Thinis, where the old gods are said to live, the False God has awakened. Its looming, heteromorphic vessel was resurrected to sink the world to the depths of the ocean. It will bring extinction to all children of men, and salvation to all beasts of the land, sky, and sea. [...] And soon, a flood aptly named Despair will drown this world. [...]" ( from the book "Romance of the World's Perdition" in the Shadow Library of the DLC ). Also, she's the goddess of the fertility brought to the soil by the flooding which tie with how Sothis created the Nabataean, the current humans, magic outside of Dark Magic and the crest. It's implied she created more than that in the book of Seiros ( it says she created all plants and animals ), but we can't take it by words with how the current Nabataeans rewrote the past to found the Church of Seiros to protect their kind.

For more crest lore personally I love this dialog from Linhardt A support with Byleth:

"Well, I don't see how Crests have much use in times of peace. Certainly there are Crests that make you stronger and could be used in engineering. And I suppose Crests that increase magical abilities might help doctors heal injuries... Still, the possibilities seem limited. It's as if Crests were designed to be used only in times of war. Their power meant to bring about death and destruction. I cannot prove what I say is true, but suppose for a moment that it is... The longer this war goes on, the more useful my Crest research becomes. But if the war were to end today, we would go on living, perhaps not using the power of our Crests at all."

( Very sorry for the unwanted ranting! I have no control over myself when it comes Fe3h lore )

Short answer: I'm just a little weirdo that gets hung up about weird details in games, and Fe3h has a lot of weird and interesting details. Long answer [and I might even talk about unrelated stuff too, sorry I don't often have the chance to talk about fe3h]: About fe3h, the game is surprisingly good at giving you just enough information to ask more questions, and then when you start paying more attention you're hit with more moments of "wait a second- what?" "That doesn't seem right." And part of that has to do with the fact that a lot of the time the information that characters give you [or Byleth] is somewhat unreliable, due to them either keeping vital information to them selves, they don't know the whole story, they're trying to manipulate you, or they're outright lying to you.

I remember I had a lot of hang-ups about Dimitri blaming Edelgard for what happened in Duscur because I had a hard time believing that a fourteen year-old would be able to orchestrate the assassination of a foreign nation's king [especially when considering the timeline of events for Edelgard herself]. However, in Dimititri's case his perception of the truth was warped by multiple factors. Such as his severe lack of sleep and rest, possible malnutrition, his abysmal emotional state, implied schizophrenia [or something like it idk I'm not a doctor], and the fact that Edelgard was, indeed, working to kill him and all of his friends for a year. It's not so much that he logically believes it or that Edelgard was responsible for Duscur, it's that he had to fight her anyway, and her involvement with it may as well make her responsible. [still kinda bullshit but it makes sense as to why he's being the way he is]

A better example would have been how Tomas/Solan tries to manipulate Claude into thinking that there was some kind of church conspiracy with information about the immaculate one only for Claude to later stop listening to him after he found out who Solan really was and what he wanted. But that was one of the things that were solved in-story which left me less room to chomp on and obsess over. [not a bad thing- this is good story writing.]

The other reason is that sometimes the writers mess something up but depending on what that is it can be more interesting to find an in-universe reason why something doesn't add up. For instance the whole thing about the Red Canyon. It's implied to be called that because the Nabateans were genocides there. The funky thing there is that Nabatean blood isn't red, it's green. What this can imply is a few things, that Nabateans have red blood in a human form, or there was a mistranslation somewhere between the Nabateans and the humans they worked with, or it was deliberate [which makes more sense now that I think about it]. Basically, it was probably called something along the lines of "bloody canyon" or something due to the tragedy that happened there, but it got changed to red canyon because The saints [or just Rhea/Sieros] wanted to both keep the history a secret, but also wanted memorialize what happened.

The game is filled with little stuff like this that give me so many little brain worms, and that tends to be the start of it. The rest of it comes with me mentally writing fanfic with an oc and I start to go: "Like what are their bathrooms like, how does the plumbing systems work, what tools are available, if magic exists how does it work, does magic still follow the law of conservation of mass, how does magic and using it affect the body, etc."

Like, the implicit stuff and the inspirations are definitely a factor, but it's primarily my little brain going off the rails and asking way too many questions that probably doesn't matter.

[rfaromance]

I'm new here so idk if you've done this before but what about hurt/comfort with Saeyoung and MC while they're in the apartment, Saeyoung ofc is being Like That. MC tries pushing at first but she's been burned/ghosted by ""friends"" more than once and has low self-esteem and eventually goes "you can just be honest with me you know. if you really don't like me I can take a hint. wouldn't be the first time. i know im not the kind of person other people like." maybe even says she wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the RFA is just being polite so they can hold parties again... and she locks herself in another room, maybe doesn't even check the messenger for the rest of the day.

And Saeyoung, as much as he's trying to be a dick so she won't miss him, just can't fucking do it. he's not going to let MC think she's the problem when he's the asshole (and whoever else has hurt her, but revenge plotting can be done later). she probably won't let him in right away but eventually they talk and maybe cuddle or smthn

"You can just be honest with me, you know."

Luciel didn't look up from his screen when MC spoke, even though the strands of letters and numbers flickering across his computer had turned into a jumbled, soupy mess hours ago. He was accustomed to working through exhaustion, fatigue, malnutrition, and dehydration, so he knew that if he kept pushing, eventually he'd break this obstacle and be working smoothly once again.

He didn't need to stop. Certainly, he didn't need to stop to listen to MC's chattering.

They'd been trying to start conversations with him multiple times since his arrival at the apartment, but he would just tighten his headphones or lean closer to his screen, to make a point. 'I'm busy,' he would convey wordlessly. 'I don't want to talk to you.'

That was a lie, of course; Luciel wanted nothing more than to be close to MC, to hear their woes, and if he could dare dream to be so selfish, to sob into their embrace. But he couldn't risk getting close to someone ever again.

Now that he knew he was a curse that damned everyone he loved to misery.

After seeing what had become of Saeran, who was his entire reason for breathing, he couldn't dare risk accepting MC's snacks, or blankets, or bandages. They'd live a far better, safer, and happier life once he finished restoring the security system and could vanish from their world forever.

"If you don't really like me... I can take a hint."

But nothing... nothing could have prepared him to hear those words leave his beloved MC's mouth.

A harsh bark of laughter came next. Luciel didn't dare look behind him, lest MC know he was listening, but the bitterness in their tone made his stomach twist. "It wouldn't be the first time," they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper. "I've learned by now... that I'm not the type of person that other people like. I'm not the type of person that anyone wants to keep around."

How was he supposed to focus on the flashing symbols on his screen, when warning signals were flashing inside his brain? Luciel could feel his body stiffen as he tried to think of a response. Was it appropriate for him to say anything? Would his words only put MC in more danger? Maybe he could just wait for them to calm down, and then surely someone from the RFA could call to distract them and put a smile on their face.

Someone from their world, a world of light and justice and charity and hope, could put a smile on their face once more and restore their confidence.

Luciel massaged his fingers for a moment, then cracked his knuckles and returned to typing. That should help MC understand that he "wasn't listening," right?

"It's okay," MC murmured. "If you don't want me around, I mean. Actually... I bet everyone else in the RFA feels the same way." Another pitiful laugh escaped their throat. "Maybe... maybe you even said in the chatroom that my location is secret because you wanted me to believe that's why nobody would visit me. I'm just some dumb, lost fool who doesn't know any of you, and I'm not at all fit to fill Rika's role. Maybe... someone begged you for an excuse... Would it be Jumin? Jaehee? A whole separate group chat?"

Every word that left MC's troubled lips cut another slice on Luciel's heart. Were they even talking to him anymore, or were they just voicing the concerns that'd been clogging their thoughts and feelings for days now?

"At least I can be useful. Even if nobody likes me... The RFA is full of good people. If I'm good for nothing else, at least I can help them have a party again. That's enough of a reason to pretend to tolerate me, isn't it?"

Whether he was meant to hear them, he knew he couldn't bear to let MC continue to believe this. Luciel could plow through work against his own pain, but the thought of hurting MC... Even he couldn't handle that adrenaline working against him.

Luciel finally turned his head (against his better judgment), but by the time he could open his mouth to speak, MC was already gone.

The bathroom door slammed behind them.

~~~~~

"Time for dinner, meow! Time for dinner, meow!"

MC nearly tripped over themselves as they got to their feet, their joints and muscles screeching in protest. Carefully they stepped over the side wall of the tub, suppressing a groan as their knees shrieked. They didn't intend to pass out sobbing in the bathtub, but crying is exhausting! One minute they were sniffling into their sleeves, and the next...

Wait, did that robot kitty say "dinner"?

MC nearly tripped again in their shock as they hurried over to the bathroom door. But as soon as they touched the handle, they hesitated. Would Seven--no, Luciel--even want to see them? Shame and guilt washed over them as they remembered what they had said this morning. Confessing that they knew everyone hated them and it wouldn't be the first time? Would he kick them out of the apartment? Would they be fired from the RFA? MC couldn't begin to imagine the conversations that had happened while they were dozing off. They could vaguely recall their phone buzzing from time to time, but half-conscious and wholly-despondent, they'd ignored every message.

"Dinner meow! Don't let it get cold meow!"

Well, if nothing else would motivate MC to face their anxiety, the rumbling in their stomach was rather persuasive. Inhaling deeply, MC turned the handle and opened the door to walk out into the main body of the apartment.

"I hope you like soup."

MC nearly jumped out of their skin at the sound of Luciel's voice. He was sitting in his usual spot on the floor, but he was pointing a finger towards the kitchen area. "The broth will be good for you, since you... It's good if you lose fluids," he finished awkwardly. Was he trying to avoid saying "cry"? Wait, did he hear them crying in the tub? "Meowy can help you spruce it up. It's a basic miso soup with some vegetables you had around the pantry."

As if on cue, Meowy pressed its head against your legs. Curiously MC followed, and the corners of their mouth twitched into a smile when they saw the tray of sauces, spices, herbs, and other garnishments by the eager robotic kitty's paws.

"I already had some. Eat as much as you want."

MC wanted to thank him, but they weren't sure if he would want to be bothered now. He'd already gone back to typing with both hands, and his headphones were firmly nestled over his ears with his hood on top of them too. "I..."

"You're important to us. All of us." He spoke up before MC could think of what to say. "Just because you don't like yourself, doesn't mean we can't like you. Got it? Don't try to change my mind."

MC had never tasted such a delicious, heartfelt bowl of soup in their life.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ok so I know Jason and the reader confessed their love in scruffy verse but after all that maybe he could ask her out on a nice date just with stuff they enjoyed when they were little

"I'm bored," Jason groused, sprawling across your bed.

"No shenanigans with the boys today?" you ask mildly, not looking up from your book.

"Yours are more fun," he pouted, picking up his battered teddy bear to fidget with. It was supposed to be a break from school. But Gotham being Gotham and Bruce being Bruce he'd hardly seen you. You were up with the chickens, sometimes even before Alfred and out cold asleep long before he got home from patrol.

He hated it. Even if he understood. But- that didn't mean he didn't worry. You were getting a cough now that the cold weather was setting in. And he knew you were tired. Years of malnutrition and medical neglect meant you'd probably never be very physically healthy. At least not without constantly being on top of eating well and sleeping enough... which you also didn't do.

"Jay I've got so much to do-"

"C'mon," he pleaded, giving you his biggest, saddest pound puppy eyes. "We can go skating? Or go see a movie?"

When you relent a little and close your book, Jason takes it gingerly and sets it aside, putting Scruffy in your lap where it had been. "Or I can make some hot chocolate and we can just cuddle for a while," he tries. Skating would be nice, but being out in the cold would probably make your cough worse. And a movie would be good but only if you could unwind enough to watch it and enjoy it.

"A nap sounds nice," you say after a long moment, turning your head to cough.

And Jason nods, smiling a little, "You really feel like shit, huh?"

"I'm just tired-"

"Yeah. And Joker just gave me a love tap," he said, frowning as he leaned forward to touch your forehead.

"Jason Peter."

But despite your protests, you lean into the touch and Jason shakes his head, "Nap it is," he decides for you. "Can you stay awake long enough for me to find some sweats?"

"Probably," you mumble, "Maybe."

And Jason doesn't need telling twice.

When he returns with his sweats, a glass of water, and some Tylenol, you look at him in askance.

"You're getting a fever," he explained, handing them to you. His suspicions are confirmed when you don't argue. "My poor baby," he hummed, taking the glass from you.

"I'll be fine. It's just sinus crud."

"Still," he said, settling you in his arms, satisfied when you snuggle closer. "You'll feel better with a nap and a good meal in you- if you feel up to it, we'll go get dinner. See if that one Barbeque place of 64th is still there."

"They have the best banana pudding."

"Remember that one waitress? Taffy? Did we ever figure out if that was her legal name?"

"She still works there, I think. Or at least she did when I went there for your birthday before-"

Jason kissed the top of your head and slid a hand up to rub the nape of your neck, just below your hairline, "You celebrated my birthday?"

"Every year," you murmur. "And I left you a notebook."

He stopped for a second, not sure what to say and kissed your head again, making a mental note to ask if Bruce had picked them up. For years, you'd passed notebooks back and forth. In the hall between classes, during classes while you sat next to each other. It was a running conversation. And somehow, without trying, you'd broken his heart in the sweetest way.

The whole time he'd been dead, he assumed life went on. Even for you. But it hadn't even as it had. You'd kept a space for him. And he hoped Bruce kept those fucking notebooks. He wanted to know about all the conversations you'd had without him.

[strawberrybabydog]

i hate having an eating disorder because its an evil disorder that truly makes everyone in your life hate you

progressives view you as a failure because you succumbed to beauty standards, so you're a bad person for implying you would look ugly if you were fat

conservatives view you as a failure because not eating is a moral failing, and you cant be part of the sisterhood if you're too skinny, because women percieve you as a threat

and thats it. thats all they see. all anyone can see from me is a self-hating fatphobe or a threat to women. nobody understands that i cant sit up in the morning without shaking because of malnutrition. nobody wants to listen when i tell them over and over my stomach has literally shrunk and i am physically incapable of eating big meals, which makes recovery impossible. nobody wants to hear that i'm eating meal replacements every single day just to stay alive. nobody wants to hear the discoveries ive made about how yes, beauty standards really are unachievable, and please nobody else try, because this is suffering. nobody wants to understand that i dont want to look or feel like this, that i didnt ask for this, that i did everything i could in all of my teen years to love myself so i wouldnt ever have to go through this. everyone stares at my body as if it's a political statement they're supposed to compare themselves too, when i never asked for this, so i cant even hang out with friends because i KNOW they'll take MY ED personally and direct their anger at me

every person who shamed my former fatness, who pushed me into making these decisions, hates me even more for being thin. every single person, no matter how "tolerant" they self-identify as, thinks shaming me for being thin, and implying this body is ugly and i was only truly beautiful before, is what will cure me. the same people who couldnt stop asking me "really? you're having MORE food?"

i guess the trick to having an eating disorder is to not have a body that other people can see in the first place

i dont even know why im talking about this here. as a last resort? ive had an ED for a year now and i havent got to talk about it even one fucking time because of this ^^^. and i expect the same response if any too LOL. i need fucking help or im going to die from malnnutrition but the only thing anyone cares about is whether or not i'd be sexy as fat (still prioritizing their own gaze.)

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt28

Part 27 here

———

Vivec: why did you make Wyrm so optimistic?

Sotha Sil: because I spent my life being pessimistic. He’s aware of the truth of our reality, and his endless joy allowed him to smile in the face of it… I want him to remain happy and carefree for as long as he can before the inevitable…

Vivec: …Is that why you made him so small too?…

Sotha Sil: …I made him, as he needs to be. *turns to walk away and freezes seeing Wyrm standing behind him* I-

Wyrm: why do I need to be- *gasps as he’s suddenly pulled out of the vision. The serene purple sky of the clockwork city giving way to the icy black stone of the midden, and the eerie blue glow of the augurs light*

Augur of Dunlain: Wyrm? My friend?

Wyrm: *rubs his eyes as a pounding headache seizes him for a moment before subsiding, his control over his connection to the heart slowly improving* it just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again… right as I ask him why he made me this way I get pushed out, like how he’d push me away from the heart, or out of nightmares. It feels different to when voryn does it… voryn feels like he’s pulling me into a hug, away from something dangerous but… it feels like Seht is, pushing me away somehow. In a direction?…

Augur of Dunlain: Perhaps he is afraid of you finding out the answer?… what could be so terrible about knowing what you were made for?

Wyrm: *groans leaning against the magicka pool* ughhhh I’m supposed to be asking you questions not the other way around! *pouts* but… If he made me as I need to be?… was, was it the malnutrition that kept me small?… or why my lungs are so weak?… or… *feels where his shoulder should be beneath his artificial, metal one* why am I missing my arm… my shoulder and part of my ribs?… or… *reaches up and taps his Pearl eye* why would he make me with only one?…

“Wyrm??? Where are you?”

Wyrm: crap! I’m not supposed to be down here! *jumps up tossing a sugar cookie into the pool* I’ll see you later!!! Thank you! *runs out of the door and up out of the midden*

Augur of Dunlain: …I wish I could tell you the truth… *sighs and engulfs the cookie*

*a few minutes later*

Wyrm: *climbs out of the midden and into the courtyard, dusting himself off of the snow from the trap door as he rushes out and immediately bumps head first into nerevar* oh! I-

Nerevar: there you are, hold still. *pulls a set of armoured robes out from his bag and holds it up to the smaller elf* this should do for now until I can get you to an actual blacksmith. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us and I want you protected.

Wyrm: *being adjusted this way and that by the Hortator as he loosely checks the fit* I- yes thank you- a-are you sure you and voryn want to tag along? Will voryn even be able to travel in-

Voryn: *suddenly crosses the bridge into the courtyard, dressed in dark mage robes, a chitin breastplate covering his chest and fitting nicely with the more ornate adornments of house dagoth, as well as the gigantic bell hammer strapped to his back* My ears are burning~ I believe I got everything we need for the first leg of the trip.

Nerevar: *chuckles* good, Wyrm was just fussing over your outfit options for battle and travel.

Wyrm: *puffs out his cheek a little at being teased* I-I just never thought about how uncomfortable travelling could be until I lived it and voryn doesn’t seem the sort to be dressed like well- this!

Voryn: *smiles and gently pats his hair* I’m a councillor and his confidant first. But I’m his lover and partner in battle as well. I fought along side him during the battle of red mountain, I’ve seen him in action just as much as he has I. I’ll be just fine little scrib.

Nerevar: *nods and grins* it’s a miracle I survived those battles. I was impossible to peel my eyes off of you~

Voryn: you’re lucky my eyes were more focused on keeping you alive then~ and speaking of keeping alive. Is this- really the best you could find?… *gestures to the robes*

Nerevar: We don’t exactly have a wide array of options here my love. Once we get to whiterun we can-

Enthir: no need. *walks over grabbing Wyrm by his arm leading him to the dorms* I got something better, but don’t ask how I got it or where it’s from. Got it?

Wyrm: *known Enthir long enough to just agree* okay.

Nerevar: Woah Woah Woah!!! Hold on a minute! What have you got?! Because the last two items you ‘had for him’ turned out to be two of three extremely dangerous weapons that corrupted him! *points to voryn* turned the people that killed me into gods!

Wyrm: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: shush it’s okay, and I had to use to bring down dagoth ur!

Voryn: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: darling we- HEY COME BACK HERE!

Enthir: *already walking inside with Wyrm in tow* I’m not stopping you from following me.

*a few minutes later*

Enthir: *holding a pair of trousers over the room divider Wyrms changing behind* these ones should fit you you’re around my size.

Wyrm: oh these look like the armour the lady in riften was wearing!

Nerevar: riften?

Enthir: lady?

Wyrm: yeah, she stole my eye and I woke up from a nightmare trying to cut her face off…

Voryn: oh yes I think I recall that one… I kept screaming ‘I’ve been poisoned’… was that when those vampires fed you skooma?

Wyrm: yes… it was horrible.

Enthir: *eyes wide just hearing about this himself for the first time* remind me to write to my contacts so, there’ll be less people out to hurt him or- worse.

Nerevar: I promise. Well do all we can to keep him safe.

Wyrm: *suddenly steps out dressed in thieves guild armour* my hair won’t fit under the hood.

Enthir: that’s okay you don’t need that. You look great just… try to avoid guards while wearing it. It should keep you out of trouble with more unsavoury figures though and help you sneak out of danger if needed.

Nerevar: that- that wouldn’t happen to be thie-

Voryn: *covers his mouth* shhh. You look great Wyrm.

Wyrm: *smiles back at them with a beaming grin*

*a few days later*

Urag: *wrapping Wyrms favourite cloak around him and fussing over his son* I packed your night clothes and spare comfortable clothes for you too and your lunch is in there as well as some snacks and don’t forget the ward scrolls in case-

Enthir: *gently rubs his back* Babe, he’ll be okay. *smiles at Wyrm then past him to the high elf waiting patiently at his side* take care of him for us.

Taliesin: *nods and bows his head* I will. You have my word.

Urag: … *steps forward and places his hand on his shoulder* Come home alive… bring my boy back safe.

Taliesin: I- Y-yes sir. He- we’ll, come home alive. I promise.

Urag: *nods before looking back to Wyrm in time for the small dunmer to leap up into his arms for a hug* stay safe, don’t wander into trouble you can’t get out of, okay?…

Wyrm: *nods* I will papa, I’ll be careful, I promise papa. *hugs him tighter* I’ll be home before you know it.

Urag: *hugs him back and holds him for just a moment more* good luck, son. *lets him go*

Wyrm: *smiles up at him before giving Enthir a hug as well* take care of him please…

Enthir: I will. *smiles hugging him back and letting him go* stay out of trouble.

Wyrm: I will! *takes Taliesins hand and waves back to them as they cross the bridge* I LOVE YOU!!

*a few minutes later*

Taliesin: *picks Wyrm up placing him on his back as they enter the village* gods I can’t wait to get out of this cold.

Wyrm: *gently places his hands over taliesins ears like a pair of ear muffs* I read morthal is humid and warm. I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable for you.

Taliesin: darling you’ve never felt humidity. Believe me it is not comfortable but anything is better than this c-constant assault of frigid air.

Wyrm: *giggles* yeah, it’s not for everyone. *glances at the jarls long house as Mirabelle steps out, dressed in the arch mages robes though still limping from her injuries sustained in the battle against ancano* hopefully things… warm up here in different ways while we’re gone. *looks ahead to see the group waiting by the horses near the inn* I just hope… we live to see it. *shivers as a gust of wind blows from around the inn, sending the tattered robes of a now dead thalmor agent adrift on the wind*