#been hurt at all from being followed or that Marie’s fangs are damaged from the way she tends to launch herself open-mouth first into the

[quietwingsinthesky]

annddd now I’m thinking about Lucifer watching over Jack & Marie as they feed off of someone they lured into a backalley, because of course they share their meals. (Jack is good at playing bait to lure in creeps, and Marie is good at sitting on ledges in the dark and jumping onto their backs. They’re a good team <3 Lucifer doesn’t even have to help, he can just sit back and be so proud of them.)

and then afterwards, they coming up to him happy and well-fed, and he wipes the blood off their faces (with a handkerchief, with his fingers, both) and drapes his coat over whichever one’s clothes are too bloody to hide, and they go home.

[nnightskiess]

₊° 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

tw: touching without consent

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

Julian opened the door with a cheeky smile, keeping it open for his friends and fellow heretics. His grin widened when lastly Nora and Y/N stepped inside— for the first time ever being able to hold hands while walking into a pub.

Even though Julian was pretty heartless, he still loved his little family just like any proud man would. He held a specific adoration for the two women. Not only did their fearless and ruthless attitude impress him every time again, he also loved the soft side they showed when it was just them and their family. Having seen both sides, made him make a promise to himself— to always protect them, no matter what, even though everyone knew both women were fully capable of that themselves.

“Ladies.” He bowed curtly and closed the door after him when everyone was inside.

“Now let’s have fun!”

Lily gave him a look, but her stern expression broke down because of his grin. Valerie and Beau wandered off to the bar, Julian wrapped his arm around a lost-looking Mary-Louise while Y/N’s eyes warily wandered around the place— this world was still new to her and she wasn’t sure if it would ever start to feel normal.

To say Nora was excited was an understatement. She had learned how use a mobile phone sooner than she had visited a pub in the 21st century and couldn’t wait to cross this off her list too. Her hand safely intertwined with Y/N’s, who looked around to take it all in. All the voices were hard to drown out in her head.

Y/N didn’t know how to feel about the world they were dropped in. In a way, the girl was a perfect mixture of Nora and Mary Lou— she was excited to explore this new version of earth but it also terrified her immensely. Scared of the unknown was a better way to put it. But, with Nora by her side, she was sure it wouldn’t be as scary. Besides, she had gone through scarier stuff before. A pub, filled with oddly dressed people talking about unknown or weird topics with electronic devices in their hands was nothing compared to fighting off fellow vampires or vampire hunters.

A squeeze in her hand interrupted her daydream. 

“-Love?”

“I’m sorry?”

Nora stood in front of her with her usual mischievous smile, holding out her other hand for Y/N to hold. Y/N grabbed it and let her lead her to an empty spot in the far corner.

“You sit your pretty butt down and I’ll get us something to drink.”

“No-”

“No weird 21st century cocktail,” Nora cut her off and rolled her eyes in amusement, “I know.” She whispered teasingly. 

Y/N crossed her arms and let out a puff of air. A few people stood crowded around a pool table, seemingly having fun. Right behind them was someone playing darts. 

Y/N snorted when all of his attempts went over the board— his darts now sticking into the wall. Even though she had never played before, she knew she would do way better. 

With the usual strut in her step, she walked over to the guy. She removed the darts out of the wall, not even looking at him. 

Y/N raised her eyebrows, quietly asking him what he was still doing there, standing in her spot. 

“You’re gonna try?” He seemed surprised and also unimpressed. 

“Can’t be worse than you.”

The guy bit his lip and put a hand through his ruffled dark curls. He watched from next to the woman as she threw dart after dart— most landing around around the bulls-eye. 

“Looks like you lost big time.” Nora teased and appeared next to Y/N, handing her girlfriend a drink before looking at the man. He seemed pissed but smug at the same time, now that two women seemed to want to keep him company. 

“Do you want to give it a go?” 

Nora shook her head and took a sip out of her beer bottle after landing on one of the seats around. She shrugged absentmindedly, “Long pointy things aren’t really my thing.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at the innuendo and handed the guy the darts. 

Nora sat with them for a while, shamelessly watching her girlfriend like a hawk while drinking her beer. God, Y/N looked great in these new type of clothes, no matter how much she had complained about how itchy her jeans were or how stupid it was that there were holes in them. Y/N had barely touched her drink, way too focused on their game of darts and thus also not realising how the guy stood closer to her every time they switched places. But Nora had. Oh, Nora definitely had. But like Lily had said before they left: no funny business, which meant that tearing the guy’s heart out was clearly not an option.  

The man finished his bottle of beer, any reservations he previously had washed away with the alcohol in his system. 

“You’re so fucking hot, look at you go.” 

Nora's lip curled into a sneer, ready to jump in.

“And gay.” Y/N’s reply seemed to fly over his head. 

“I doubt darts is the only thing you’re good at.” The way he said it made Nora’s blood boil.

“I better not have heard that correctly.” She flew up in an instant but the look on Y/N’s face told her she was ready to handle it on her own.

The guy held her lower back as he passed her and walked off into the crowd without another word.

Y/N turned around,

“What a dirty pig.”

“Glad that perverted git is gone.”

Nora immediately rolled her eyes at the look that followed on her girlfriend’s face.

“Nora Hildegard....jealous of a good-for-nothing guy? A guy!”

Y/N gave her a playful shove. Nora was barely jealous, Y/N knew that. They had been together for so long and had literally gone through sickness and health and basically died twice together, only coming out of it stronger. There was no one else for Y/N than Nora, and the heretic knew that all too well. 

“I just get disgusted how he treated you. Are there even normal men nowadays, instead of only pigs?”

“There were pigs back then, too.”

“Sure, but they don’t try to hide it now.” Nora grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her closer, planting a quick peck on the girl’s lips. Both girls felt triumph knowing that they could finally kiss in public without being beaten out of the pub. They both grinned when they pulled back, knowing they had thought the same. 

“I’m going to get myself another drink, be right back.”

Y/N turned back around and continued throwing darts, though this time she didn’t do her best, she just wanted to pass the time. After a couple minutes of absentmindedly throwing at the board in front of her, she felt a presence behind her. A hand suddenly grabbed her chin from behind and caught her by surprise. When feeling the presence, she had initially thought it was Nora who had returned, but her scent was far away and these rough hands holding her in place weren’t hers, neither were the chapped lips that were forcefully planted on her neck.

In the surprise of it all, she let out a muffled yelp. His intoxicated mind took this as an invitation to continue, making Y/N freeze every muscle in her body. Shove the damn bloke off, she yelled at herself. She knew she had the strength, but she was so shocked that her brain didn’t know how to send the signals to the rest of her body. 

Over at the bar, Nora had heard her girlfriend’s muffled cry for help thanks to her hearing and immediately filtered out the rest. She didn’t care who saw her use her speed, or who would witness the thing about to happen next. All she cared about was helping Y/N and doing whatever harm popped into her mind to the guy holding her locked.

Nora’s speedy walk caught the attention of all the people around and the hushed whispers immediately reached the rest of the heretics.

Y/N still stood there, limp, shocked, horror in her eyes and in that moment, all Nora saw was red. Her eyes darkened, black veins formed around her eyes and her teeth shone in the dim bar light, serving as a warning. She grabbed the man’s head, who finally realised all eyes were on him. 

Nora squeezed his head and slammed it into the wall next to him in full force within a second. She dropped him and gave him a second to recuperate. He groaned and looked dazed... or maybe he was still drunk? Not effective enough, Nora thought. Her eyes quickly flickered to Y/N’s, seeing her girlfriend nod slowly. She was okay. Well, she wasn’t, but she’d be okay until Nora was done with the guy. 

“Nora! Leave it!”

But she zoned out every voice or rational thought and didn’t hear Lily yell. She tended to do that when it came to Y/N being hurt. The rest of the heretics watched in anticipation, knowing Nora wouldn’t do this if the guy hadn’t deserved it. Some of them even wore smirks.

Nora stood over him, an evil and taunting look on her face. 

“Now, that did not have the desired effect I hoped for. Apparently your head’s not as hollow as I deemed it it to be.” Within a flash, she held him by his neck and made him stand up, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His face turned blue, “This might have.”

Her hand dove into his chest and pulled out his heart. People who had previously watched in confusion and terror, now started screaming, especially when Nora turned around— heart in her hand, blood dripping down her arm, eyes bloodshot and fangs out.

“You fool!” Lily frantically looked around, not knowing where to start damage control.

Nora threw the heart behind her, not caring where it landed. He didn’t need it anymore, anyway. She blinked a few times, going back to normal, before running up to Y/N.

She held the girl’s cheeks and softly examined her before her eyes landed on her girlfriend’s face. The look Nora had sported not even ten seconds ago, the one that had frightened everyone in the bar, completely vanished the moment she held her girlfriend in her arms. Instead, her soft eyes were now filled with worry.

“Are you alright?!”

Y/N kept quiet, ashamed she couldn’t stand up for herself. Nora nodded, knowing very well what Y/N was thinking but couldn’t say. Being together for so many years made it easy to read someone that well. 

She pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her girl’s head close to her chest and planting multiple kisses on her hair. She softly massaged the girl’s scalp. She knew Y/N always responded better to physical contact, which was why Nora used it to calm the girl down most times.

Y/N was safe now, in her arms, and Nora would protect her with her life. In this century and in the next.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

tag list: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ 

[alixanonymous]

How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 4: A Plan In Progress

From: DoWhatISay@email.com

To: Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date: November 3, 2021 5:00 P.M.

Subject: I Accept Your Terms

Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,

I do not delude myself into thinking we will be able to magically solve each other’s problems but it does seem as though we both lack certain qualities the other does not. If you’re offering the chance for me to stay where I am, I would be a fool not to take it and I am not a fool. If I can also help fix your unfortunate situation, I will do so. 

Let me know where we go from here.

- Damian W.

From the phone of Marinette Dupain-Cheng:

The Ladyblog 

A Retraction Of An Earlier Article Nov 4 2021 

I’ve decided to take down an earlier article entitled “MDC Stole My Best Friend’s Designs!” following contact from the legal team of Jagged Stone. It was wrong of me to make accusations without proof and I will endeavor to provide evidence to back any claims I make on this blog in the future.

- Alya Cesaire, Creator of the Ladyblog

Chat Name: Aunt Penny

Aunt Penny: Are you sure you don’t want us to pursue any further action Marinette? That statement hardly seemed sincere and was not nearly sufficient considering all she’s claimed. We can help you know.

Me: It’s fine Aunt Penny. Anything else wouldn’t be worth the trouble. It’s not her fault anyway.

Aunt Penny: You know I don’t agree with that but okay, if you’re sure. Just remember the lawsuits have already been drafted.

Aunt Penny: By the way, Jagged’s suit was a real hit at the charity dinner. Not that we ever had a doubt. Have you been thinking about creating a new website?

Me: That’s great to hear. I’ll think about it, okay?

Aunt Penny: That’s good.

Chat Name: Alya

Alya: Girl, I know what you’re thinking but just because I had to post that statement doesn’t mean Lila’s lying. She just can’t release any proof because she wants to do the right thing and keep MDC’s identity a secret. She’s being the bigger person!

Me: She always is.

Alya: Don’t be like that! Please Marinette. Stop letting your jealousy cloud your judgement.

Chat Name: Uncle Jagged

Uncle Jagged: Pens told me that you dont want to sue i get it, lawsuits are totally not rock n’ roll but feeding that liar and her friends to fang is always an option!!!

Me: No, Uncle Jagged.

Uncle Jagged: fine…

Uncle Jagged: i got so much applause for your suit at the stuffy dinner btw.

Uncle Jagged: of course I told them all that my talented young niece made it.

Uncle Jagged: even had a billionaire’s son begging for a referral but dont worry i turned him down for you 

Me: What?! Why?!

Uncle Jagged: trust me, Mari, he was totally not rock n’ roll. not rock n’ roll at all! just rude

Chat Name: Adrien

Adrien: Hey Marinette, did you see the apology on the Ladyblog?

Me: You mean the retraction?

Adrien: Well, yes. 

Adrien: Look, Marinette, you’re not going to do anything else right? She took it down.

Me: She took it down because “she had no proof��� not because she knows Lila lied. She’s still convinced even after Jagged’s legal team got involved although we both know the truth.

Adrien: I'm sorry.

Adrien: Even my father feels bad, he knows how much rumors like that could damage an artist’s reputation especially without proof.

Adrien: But he’s still convinced Lila’s someone I need to associate with and if you try to expose her again it’s going to be like every other time and I don’t want things to get worse for you.

Adrien: I’m sorry Mari.

Adrien: I just can’t help you while my father’s still on her side.

Google Search History: 

Gotham Charity Dinner 2021 Photos

Patricide but for uncles

What is it called when someone kills their uncle?

How to know if a friendship is toxic

From:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

To:DoWhatISay@email.com

Date:November 5, 2021  5:05 P.M.

Subject: The Plan

Hey Damian!

Sorry for the delay in responding. I don’t know if you saw but MDC had a bit of a problem to deal with yesterday. So here’s how I see it. Our plan has two parts: the commission for your brothers and then us trying to help each other out with our people problems.

For the commission: You already gave me the measurements which I’m trusting are up to standard since I’m not flying to America any time soon. Next I need to know exactly what you want me to make for each of your brothers: Grayson, Todd, and Drake, the measurements say are their names right? Then I need to know who you think wants a sweater and who wants a jacket and your ideas for the design. I’ll draw up some designs based on the information and send them to you for approval with an estimate of the cost. (Normally I’d also send a non-disclosure agreement beforehand too but considering how this all started I’m guessing you’re not going to give me your real name for the paperwork, are you?) After they’re approved I’ll need you to deposit half the sum in my account (Information attached) and I’ll use it to buy the materials.

If I can get all of this done in the next week or so, it should leave me about a month to finish the pieces before sending them out (An address will not be optional fyi). Sounds good??

For the other part of our plan: the way I could see it going is when one of us has a problem we could use the other person for sort of a different perspective. It’s like in those cartoons when the character has those two little people on their shoulders, do you know what I’m talking about? One’s good, the other’s bad and they’re both telling the person to do different things. Not that you’re bad I mean and not that I just assumed that of the two of us you’d be the bad one…  I’m not saying any of this right. I just mean it like I said before, I could learn a thing or time from someone who isn’t too concerned with pleasing everybody. (I didn’t mean that as an insult by the way. I actually find it kind of admirable.)

So, here’s an example of a situation I could use your opinion on: today I started to wonder if one of my friendships is no longer healthy anymore. I have this friend who is the only other person in our class that knows Lila’s lying. At first he convinced me that her lies weren’t hurting anybody and that as long as we both knew the truth then it didn’t matter what anybody else thought. Eventually, we both realized that that was no longer the case when she almost got me expelled, but by then she had convinced his father that I was a bad influence on him. So now he’s forced to play nice and keep her happy to please his father.

It’s hard because even though I know he knows she’s lying, he can’t tell anyone else so no one believes me when I try to tell them. Now she’s made good on her promise to turn everyone against me and so I have to deal with all her antics by myself while she stands by his side with the rest of the class. I know he’s in a bad position but it still doesn’t make me feel better when he texts me asking if I’m okay after  something happens while at the same time whenever we’re with other people, he keeps his distance so she doesn’t report him to his father.

I guess I’m just tired of trying to make him feel better all the time. However, whenever I think about ending our friendship, I feel guilty because it’s really not his fault. His father wouldn’t hesitate to pull him from school and then we couldn’t be friends anyway. I feel like a good friend would stick by his side. I don’t know. What do you think, Damian? 

I guess that’s just how I see this going then. I rant about whatever I’m having to deal with and you tell me if you agree with how I’m handling it and vice versa. You mention some type of incident with a classmate right? Do you want an outside opinion of that or has your family’s sufficed? Or is there anything else you could use some advice on? I guess we’re just making this up as we go. I mean I suppose there aren’t any rules about relationships that started with one person trying to blackmail the other, right? :P

Hope to hear from you soon! Love,

Marinette

P.S. If this is going to work, you can’t just ignore me when I call you out on being (for lack of a better word) snobbish, Mr. Postscript.

Hello, it’s me again. I just spent like an hour working on chapter nine so my headache’s making itself know again but I wanted to at least post a chapter today. Thank you to anyone who’s been reblogging, liking, or replying to these! It makes the unenjoyable task of reposting worth it! More chapters soon!

Master List

[thgfanficinspo]

New chapter of my Odesta fic is up - please read!

(FINNICK)

They summon me, Blight, Cashmere, and Enobaria to an interview with Caesar Flickerman to discuss what happened with our tributes yesterday. They wanted Johanna to be on the panel, but she’s hung over and Caesar can’t stand her in general, so Blight takes over. I’d prefer Enobaria be replace, too – ideally by Lyme, but she’s too sympathetic for these blood-and-gore interviews. She doesn’t play up her victor persona.

I’m hung over, too, but there’s no getting out of this, especially after Snow cut me a break last night. Somes brings me some sort of concoction to calm my stomach after I barf in the kitchen sink. He’s one of those people that isn’t bothered by vomit at all, and I wonder if it has something to do with his life before he was an Avox. I know the ones from District 3 are usually electricians or techies; District 6 ones work in garages, doing repairs on trams and cars. I know the ones from the Capitol are usually servants, forced to wait on their former peers so they never forget their new status. 

I down the drink in one go and hand him back the empty glass. “Is this what you make for Broadsea?”

He nods.

“Does it work?”

He bobbles his head in a way that I think means, Not really or Sometimes.

“Fantastic.”

My stylist keeps quiet again. She’s usually very chatty and I usually don’t mind, but it was a rough night. And a rough morning.

When she’s done “sprucing me up” – a phrase Johanna taught me – I thank her and promise to be in a better mood next time.

She puckers her lips, which have been surgically altered to form a heart shape, and gives me a disproving look. “Mm-hmm.”

I like her much better than the last one.

I’m the third to arrive after Cashmere and Enobaria. Caesar greets me with an oversized smile and a handshake. “Finnick! Wonderful to see you as always. How have you been?”

I put on my best smile. “Can’t complain. And you?”

“Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful! I was just telling Cashmere here how exciting these Games are already.” He leans forward slightly and lowers his voice as if to tell me a secret. “Between you and me, I was a little disappointed with the lack of action last year.”

“I think Timothy would disagree,” I say.

Cashmere whips out a few of her beloved blackberry cigarettes and offers them around. “Want one?”

“Sure.” I pluck one from her outstretched hand.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid blackberry isn’t my flavor,” says Caesar.

Enobaria spits, “I don’t smoke.”

Blight shows up out of breath. “Sorry. Overslept.”

We settle in around the table as Caesar starts his vocal warmups. I put out my cigarette as makeup artists apply an extra layer of powder to Blight’s sweaty forehead.

“I saw a kitten eating chicken in the kitchen.” Caesar over-pronounces each word. “I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.”

“Could we get some coffee maybe?” I ask no one in particular.

One of the production assistants comes bounding over with a huge mug. “Sugar, sir?”

“Yes. Lots of sugar.”

“Can I get a water?” Blight asks.

The assistant smiles politely, but the look in her eyes suggests she wants to smack him. “Of course.” How dare he interrupt her conversation with the illustrious Finnick Odair? She could be the woman to finally make that philanderer settle down! But now she’ll never know because some idiot wanted water.

“Betty bought some butter, but, said she, the butter’s bitter. If I put the butter in my batter, it will make my batter bitter.”

Cashmere lights another cigarette which we share. We take turns dragging and blowing out ribbons of pale purple smoke. Cashmere can blow out perfect blackberry-scented rings. I can't eat blackberries anymore because they remind me of Cashmere, of her cigarettes, of the way she tastes when we're forced to kiss.

“But a bit of better butter will make my bitter batter better. So Betty bought the better butter, better than the bitter butter, put it in her batter, and made her bitter batter better. It was better Betty bought some better butter.”

The assistant gives me and Blight our beverages as the director counts down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” He points at Caesar to let him know he’s live.

“Good morning, Panem!” Caesar begins. “Yesterday, we witnessed the first major showdown between tributes following the bloodbath. Career tribute Piers Whitaker of District Four died trying to protect his counterpart, Annie Cresta, from his Career allies. Annie wounded Gad Centaury of District Seven, leaving his allies no choice but to kill him. Let’s take a look at that footage one more time.”

I concentrate on drinking my coffee while they play the clip.

Caesar directs the first question to me. “Now Finnick, I think what everyone at home is wondering – what do you make of Annie Cresta’s actions? I must say I was surprised. She didn’t strike me as being capable of such . . . violence.” He probably wanted to say savagery or barbarism but the whole thing is savage and barbaric. Needed to come up with a different word. “As her mentor, can you offer us any insight?”

This would be a great question for Johanna, who played the weakling when she was in the arena at first, but shocked the world with her violent attacks on the other tributes.

“You never know what someone is capable of until you put them in a situation like that,” I say. “I think that since we made it through those situations, victors know ourselves better than most.”

Caesar is nodding his head as he listens intently. “Mm-hmm.” He turns to Enobaria and asks her what she thinks of that statement.

Enobaria is a psycho but somehow doesn’t even make my list of the top five worst victors. What really puts me off about her is her teeth. In the final battle of her Games, she was pinned down by a boy twice her size and couldn’t move her arms or legs. The only weapon she had was her teeth, which she used to tear his neck wide open. That doesn’t bother me: she did what she had to do to survive. What does bother me is the fact that she had her teeth filed into fangs as an homage. I don’t know if she did it because she thought it would be a funny or if she plans to weaponize them again in the future.

“I agree,” she says to Caesar. “And I think all of our tributes are starting to understand who they are after this.”

“Oh, certainly. But what I want to know –” he puts his fingertips on the table and leans forward a bit “– is what do we think of Annie defeating Gad like that? Blight, any thoughts?”

Blight’s right in the middle of gulping down orange juice when Caesar asks the question so Cashmere answers instead. “Caesar, there’s always a longshot in the Games, and they always get farther than we expect. If you ask me, I think Gad was a bit too confident in his abilities.”

“There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance,” Caesar says. “Don’t you think so?” he asks me with a chuckle.

“Me? Caesar, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I flash a shmoozy smile at him.

“Finnick, so saucy!” Caesar’s oversized teeth steal the show when he opens his mouth to chuckle.

I excuse myself to the bathroom, where I vomit up Somes’s tonic and everything I’ve eaten in the last three days. I’m washing my mouth out over the sink when one of the televisions in the bathroom – they have televisions in nearly every room – cuts to a shot of Annie Cresta opening her eyes.

(ANNIE)

I’m on the docks. I know that because I’m wet and I’m all nestled up in ropes. And I can smell the wetness. The water against the concrete edge of the port. I don’t like that smell. I don’t like it anymore.

My eyelids are heavy. There’s gunk in the corners the way there is sometimes when somebody wakes me up in the middle of the night. But it’s not the night. I don’t think it is. The air at night feels difference from this. The air at home feels different from this. So do the ropes on the dock.

I make my eyes open. I’m not on the dock by the water. There is no dock and there is no water. Concrete and rain and vines and the vines have me all tangled up and I don’t know where I am.

I know I should stand. Should walk. I’m not supposed to stay here but I can’t remember why.

Sit up. But my head hurts. Let’s go back to bed. No, no. Can’t do that. Get up up up. Gonna fall back down – no, hang onto the vines that feel like rigging and don’t fall down again, Annie!

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate –

Silver thing floats down and lands at my feet. Parachute. A gift! I open it up as fast as I can but it’s nothing, just the cannister itself. A water bottle! I can use it for water.

But I had a water bottle. I just had it I just had it it was just I was just –

Can’t breathe. Hands on me squeezing me squeezing my neck and Piers is screaming and my thumbs are in his eyes and I look down at my hands and there’s jelly on them but not jam-jelly it’s jelly from the eyes from his eyes from his eyes from his eyes and Piers is screaming and I cover my ears to block out the sound but there’s still jelly on my hands and it gets on my face and in my hair and I try to clean it clean it but it won’t go away I try to scrape it off on a concrete wall and I scrape my skin off too.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

(FINNICK)

There are bruises across her neck in the shape of Gad’s hands where he choked her. it looks excruciatingly painful. The damage is enough that I doubt she’d even be able to swallow a sip of water.

I wince when she begins to sing, partially because of how painful it must be and partially because it’s – well, terrifying. Her squeaky, scratchy voice sends chills down my spine.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She abruptly covers her ears like she’s trying to block out a sound, but the microphones in the arena don’t pick anything up. She tears her hands away and looks down at them. They’re still stained with blood.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She starts clawing at her own hands like she’s trying to peel something off – the blood, probably. When that doesn’t work, she presses her palms into a nearby cinderblock and drags her hands down it so hard that she scrapes off some of her skin and smears blood on the block.

My mother, she butchered me My father, he ate me My sister, little Ann-Marie She gathered up the bones of me

And tied them in a silken cloth to lay under the juniper            Tweet, tweet! What a pretty bird am I!

She lies back down among the vines and curls in on herself.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. “Mr. Odair?” It sounds like the production assistant from before. “They want you on stage.” I don’t respond. “Mr. Odair? Are you in there?”

I shut my eyes and sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Blight and the others are leaving just as I come back to the stage. Caesar is looking at the monitor on the desk in front of him with a very strange expression. I know we’re not being recorded when I sit down and he asks me, “What on earth is she doing?”

“Singing, I guess.”

The song ends and Annie burrows into her little nest and falls asleep again. Caesar lets me go after we establish that the song is an old nursery rhyme and Annie’s in shock, and that there are nine far more interesting tributes to focus on, like the ailing tribute from District 2 or the boy from District 10 who captures and eats small mutts.

Maybe when Annie wakes up she’ll be normal again.

[s-w-s-h]

Blood Will Out

The blood drained from Jacob’s face. Was she - she couldn’t -

… Could she?

As he listened to Mary talk, about the British Men of Letters and the vampires, he realised - she could. Mary Winchester could stand there and brag about genocide as if it was nothing. As if he and his kind were nothing.

Monsters didn’t deserve to live.

“… You’re talking about genocide.”

The words came from Claire, not Jacob, and he turned to see her just as white-faced as he probably was.

“They’re monsters, Claire,” Mary dismissed, “We’re talking about the end of hunting here.”

“No, actually, we’re talking about genocide!” Claire gestured fruitlessly, trying to convey the depth of her horror. “They’re sentient beings!”

“They’re not human!”

“Sentient! Beings! We’re not - African warlords or something who go around slaughtering people who don’t look or act like us!”

Mary scoffed. “What kind of comparison is that? They’re the ones slaughtering innocent people - are you gonna tell me scum like that doesn’t deserve death?”

“That’s not the point!” Claire cried, “This isn’t justice!”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure the innocent women and children in Africa feel justice -“

“We have the fucking Hague!” Claire spat, “We have the International Criminal Court, we have the fucking Geneva Conventions, the UN, because we’re not monsters and we won’t stoop to their level.” Her eyes blazed like miniature stars. “We give people a fair trial. We hold them accountable. We do not senselessly murder them on the basis of what they might be, and not what they’ve done!”

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Claire’s voice was shrill and piercing by the end of it, but all Jacob could think of was a teenage vampire he’d met in Chicago, Nithin. Dark-skinned, gangly Nithin, who sent him shitty Bollywood videos at 2 AM and even shittier memes at 4, whose sharp fangs had never once pierced human flesh, who watched trashy vampire movies like Twilight just to complain about what they got wrong.

It’s not what you are, but what you do that matters.

Nithin was going to be his roommate at Northwestern. They’d filled out the paperwork and everything.

Except, now he wouldn’t, because in this reality, Nithin was dead.

Murdered.

For what he was, not anything that he’d done.

Sam was wrong.

“… I don’t understand,” Jacob said, voice so small in his own ears that he wondered if anyone would hear him, “We’re - we’re family, aren’t we?”

“Wait,” he blurted out, “Does this mean I can call you ‘grandma?’”

Mary’s eyes were flinty, and Claire was shaking with fury. Jacob was selfishly, selfishly glad that Jesse wasn’t around, because God, Jesse was just a kid, and his heart was softer than all of theirs, and if this hurt Jacob so much he couldn’t breathe, then how much more would it hurt Jesse?

“I don’t understand,” Jacob repeated, feeling lost and hurt and confused, “‘Cause I’m a ‘monster,’ too.”

Mary looked conflicted for a moment. “Look, kid… I get it, you haven’t hurt anyone. And that’s great. But can you speak for every other monster out there?”

“I can speak for those of us who try!” Jacob said hotly, “Some of us have never hurt another person and just want to be left alone!”

“That’s all well and good,” Mary said, lips pressing in a thin line for a moment, “But can you say for sure that you never will?”

Jacob’s jaw dropped in horror.

“Look…” Mary sighed briefly, a worn expression flickering across her face. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but even you’re thinking it - blood will out.”

Claire and Jacob found themselves speechless.

“Blood will out?” A soft voice repeated.

Claire and Jacob swore in unison, and all three of them turned to see Ben and Jesse standing in the doorway, faces grim.

“Jesse, honey -“

“Ben, get him out of here -“

“No.” Jesse cut Claire and Jacob off, moving into the room. “I want to hear this. Blood will out - do you really believe that, Mrs. Winchester?”

The formal reference struck Mary as wrong, but nodded curtly and crossed her arms. “History has proven it time and time again.”

Jesse nodded, almost thoughtful. “I see.” His gaze turned sharp and incisive. “What about Sam’s blood?”

Mary’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Sam’s blood,” Jesse repeated evenly, “Or rather, the blood in Sam.” Jesse’s expression turned vicious. “Azazel’s blood.”

Mary rocked back on her heels, the memory of her last night on Earth - or what was supposed to be her last night, anyway - flashing through her mind. Azazel making a fist over Sam’s mouth, dripping down dark red blood -

Sweeter than mother’s milk

- before she was slammed against the wall, sliding up and -

“What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped harshly, forcing the memory away.

“Do you know what the blood did to him?” Jesse asked curiously, “It’s an open secret amongst hunters by this point, I think. The demon blood changed him, gave him powers. It made him into Lucifer’s perfect vessel.”

Mary paled.

“They called him a monster, too,” Jesse continued ruthlessly, and Mary could swear that the shadows in the corners of the room flickered. “Your fellow hunters hunted him - would you have joined them?”

“Wha - of course not!” Mary replied, aghast.

“Really? But he was different.” Cruelty looked wrong on such a young face. “Unnatural. Everything the people you’re in bed with want to exterminate.”

“That’s enough!” Mary shook her head, hands clenched into fists to keep them from trembling. “Sam isn’t a monster!”

“At least we can agree on that,” Ben sneered under his breath.

“He is to them!” Jesse retorted fiercely, “I don’t care what you think about us, but Sam - Sam is who you’re trying to kill!”

Mary’s eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Ben commented, “You know, maybe Dean would be a better example.”

Mary narrowed her eyes.

Ben shot her a nasty smile, voice dripping with venom. “Oh yeah. Sam may be psychic, but Dean? Oh, your little boy’s been around the block - vampire, demon - you gonna exterminate him, too?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“He got himself turned into a vampire a couple years ago,” Ben answered, eyes glittering with malice. “Stood outside my bedroom until Mom finally kicked him to the curb. And then - and you’re going to love this - he got himself a Murder Stamp from Cain himself and turned into a demon, black eyes and all. Knight of Hell, actually, which should tell you exactly what he was.”

“Sam cured him,” Claire picked up, shooting Ben a warning glance. “In fact, the vampire cure came from your family.”

Mary’s mouth pressed in a thin line and they could practically hear her teeth grinding against each other. “Is that your plan? Go around the country curing monsters?”

“If that’s what it takes! We have the knowledge, we have the resources!” Claire gestured to them all, “We save people, not slaughter them! We find a better way, and this black-and-white racist bullshit isn’t it!”

“So, what?” Mary snapped, “You want to let monsters roam free on the chance that some of them might play nice?”

“They will,” Jacob protested immediately, “I know plenty of them!”

“Don’t be so naive, sometimes you have to put the needs of the many -“

“My family is not collateral damage!”

There was a ringing silence following Claire’s pained cry, and the teen swore softly, raising a trembling hand to rub at her wet eyes.

Mary’s expression creased in regret, and she reached out hesitantly. “… Claire…”

“Don’t,” Jacob growled lowly. He rubbed a hand down Claire’s back soothingly, his sharp glare warding Mary off.

Claire choked back her tears, wiping her eyes dry. “My family isn’t collateral damage,” she repeated, softer, but no less fervent. “And neither should be yours. Not Jake, not Jesse, not Sam.”

“Can you really look him in the face and do this?” Jesse pressed quietly, “They will hunt him. They’ve already tortured him. They will hunt people like him, people just as kind and good, who are trying to make the world a better place, no matter the cards life deals them. People with families who love them and depend on them - just as much as Sam loves you.”

“Are you going to sacrifice them, too?” Ben asked, standing behind Jesse like a guardian. “Where are you going to draw the line? White witches? Wiccans? What gives you the right who in the supernatural world gets to live and who dies?”

Faced with four teenagers, fierce and hurt and angry, with traces of Sam shining out of their eyes, Mary had no answer.