#but I think they’d get the compact one

[deadsetobsessions]

Gothic mushroom shaped candles. Danny picked one up, grinning. Sam would have love these on her alters. Very Sam, very Gotham.

It a bit bittersweet, now that he could think of her without being paralyzed by crushing grief. Her and Tucker both. Danny turned, keeping an eye on Tim as he glared into the case of used cameras.

Danny walked over and tried not to feel guilty about practically mooching off of a child. Even if the money he was using was actually the Drakes’.

“Like anything you see?”

Tim shook his head. Danny pondered over what little he knew of photography- all of which he learned from documentaries that were more focused on nature.

“I think there might be a camera store a couple of blocks down. We could get the ones that takes photos of animals, like the really big ones that takes photos of wildlife?”

“I guess. I mean, I don’t need it since we can…” Tim glanced around suspiciously. Danny willed his mouth to not smile at Tim’s antics. “Fly close,” the kid finished in a whisper.

“Okay, but what about when I’m not there?”

Tim hunched up on himself and Danny despaired inwardly. Uh oh, what did he say now?”

“Are you going somewhere?” Tim quietly asked, sounding hurt and upset.

“No,” Danny soothed, patting Tim on the head. I mean, what if I’m busy with stuff but you want to go take pictures without me?”

“You said to go get you whenever I wanna go out to take pictures.”

“Okay, yeah, I- well, we might as well get you a quality camera, right? To take really really good pictures of the… local wildlife. Like… the birds and the bats, and all that.” Danny winked exaggeratedly.

Tim blinked and giggled when he got the joke. “Okay, as long as you’re staying!”

Danny grinned, fangs and all. “Of course.”

——

At the end of their shopping spree, generously provided and sponsored by the Drake family and their heavy black card, Danny got a phone and Tim got a wild life camera that was a whopping $4,000 but was compact enough to not look absolutely ridiculous.

“It’s heavy!” Tim whined, as he grinned like a loon.

“It’s quality,” Danny plopped the shopping bags on the island in one of the giant kitchens Drake manor had. “I’ll make dinner. You figure out those settings and you can tell me about it when we eat.”

“Okay!” Tim hummed excited, quick fingers and laser focus already aimed at his new device.

Danny picked up his new phone and dialed a number he knew by heart. As it rung, Danny held it up to his ear and began prepping the ingredients. At least

“Hello?” His sister’s cautious voice came through the phone. Danny’s shoulders relaxed.

“Heya, Jazz.” He could see Tim’s ears all but perk up in order to eavesdrop. His mouth quirked up in amusement and Danny turned away. He probably shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behavior… but it was funny.

“Danny! Are you okay? I- I heard that they chased after you and I was worried sick! Are you safe? Any injuries? Do I need to pick you up?”

“I’m good. Promise. Not bleeding out or dying. It’s actually pretty nice right now,” Danny paused before turning back a little more so he could watch Tim’s reaction peripherally. “Hey, listen, can I adopt a little brother?”

He watched Tim sit up straighter eyed flickering up to him and back down again, a secretly pleased look on his face as he figured out that Danny was in fact talking about him.

“Danny, what the hell?” Jazz huffed, audibly relieved to know that Danny wasn’t on his merry way to becoming a full on ghost. “Who, why, and what kind of trouble did you get into now?”

“Hey, this was me getting out of trouble. Those people don’t even know where I escaped to. Tim helped me out a lot,” Danny said in the tone that meant ‘and there’s more to it but I can’t tell you right now.’

“His name’s Tim?”

“Yeah, you wanna say hi?”

Tim looked terrified as he heard Danny’s side of the conversation. Danny could relate.

“Alright. But you’re explaining everything later, got it?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Danny turned to Tim, abandoning the peas he was shelling and rinsing off his hand to hold the phone.

“Tim, my sister, Jazz, wants to say hi. Are you cool with that?”

“Uhm! Yeah! Yeah, sure.” Tim, honest to ancients, squeaked. Danny’s enhanced hearing could pick up Jazz’s already melting heart. He taped a button.

“Jazz, you’re on speaker.”

“Hey, Tim. I’m Jazz. Thanks for taking care of my little brother!”

“Uh, hi, Jazz! I’m Timothy Drake! And, uh, you’re welcome! Anytime!”

Tim glanced at Danny for reassurance, relaxing a bit when the halfa threw him a double thumbs up.

Jazz went quiet.

“Jazz, you good?” Danny asked.

“We’re adopting him. Danny, you better make sure knows about everyone. Hi, Tim, I’m Jazz, your new big sister.”

“Uh- I have parents.”

“That can be fixed,” Jazz casually brushed off. Tim looked like a deer in headlights, so Danny took his sister off speaker and went back to cooking. He made sure to smile at Tim.

“Don’t worry, we won’t adopt you if you don’t want to. But it wasn’t a joke, we’re very serious.”

“I’ll think about it?”

Danny shrugged. “Good enough for me.”

“So, where are you?” Jazz asked him, rustling coming through on the phone.

“Gotham.”

“You are so fucking lucky I love you, dumbass. I’ll be there tomorrow at noon.”

“Playing hooky, are you?”

“Fuck off, little brother, before I show Tim your toddler pictures.”

“Thanks, Jazz.”

“Bye, Danny. Don’t get killed again when I’m not there, got it?”

“Sure, sure.”

Danny smiled and returned to his agenda of stuffing as many vegetables into one meal as he can. At least the food isn’t trying to tear out his face.

——

Robin hasn’t heard the eerie giggles around lately, but he’s been practicing his own. It’s weird though, because there’s always a glint of something in the corner of his eyes.

“Robin, muggers.”

“On it, B. Shall we, Batgirl?”

“Let’s go, Boy Wonder.”

[yorkiegregg]

Devastating: animal who was set on getting a longbow for hunting has remembered his love for slingshots

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[ominouspuff]

Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about. 

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids. 

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time. 

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical. 

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept). 

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are. 

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that. 

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him. 

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill. 

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving. 

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

[sharpjay217]

Listen, I think Philza Minecraft and EthosLab would get along great, they’d also just have no idea what to do with each other 90% of the time.

Then one day you'd tune into a stream and it would be one of those times where Phil is incredibly chill. Meanwhile, Etho would be making the most compact collection of sus comments he ever has. This balances out into what is basically a regular adult conversation and a very chilled out, fun stream for the crows.

The Ethogirls would be panicking.

[princessbrunette]

i need a longer blurb of jj teaching reader how to smoke 🙏🏻 possible shotgunning

i was hoping someone would ask teehee ♡

suggestive themes down below, mentions of weed etc

jj cringes at himself as he taps the cracked screen of his iphone, hitting play on the spotify playlist titled simply with the leaf emoji — a subtle and yet juvenile nod to it being his smoking playlist. what kind of nerd actually has a playlist made and ready to hit play when hanging out with a pretty girl, he thinks — cheeks a little red under the dim light. his shitty speaker hiccups and splutters before playing the music smoothly, just as he comes to drop down beside you on the comfy old couch.

“anyway, fuck uh— i don’t remember. it doesn’t matter.” he waves a hand, pushing his heels into the ground to lift up his hips so he can pull the rolled J out his back pocket.

“your concentration is terrible.” you tease with a giggle, legs tucked beneath you. he recalls you looking particularly adorable in that moment, and his brain malfunctions for a second as he looks at you before he forces out a response.

“uh… yeah — i got that letter thing.”

“adhd?”

“thats the one.” he presses his fingers tightly around the compact J before patting his front pockets for a lighter. “you smoke?”

it was the first time you’d had the privilege of hanging out with just JJ alone. you were sarah’s friend, and had tagged along with her to a few pogue hangouts when she’d started dating john b. you all seemed to get on well as a group, and you were pretty meek and shy most of the time — which they found pretty endearing, so they kept you around. you were harmless, and brought an oddly charming sense of innocence to their reckless and vulgar world. you’d started harbouring a little crush on JJ since you’d met, all smiles and doe eyes whenever he was up to his usual nonsense. he was loud and untameable, but always made an effort to behave around you. the special attention made you melt.

“JJ you’re yelling.” pope would accuse and the blonde would hold his hands up.

“sorry.” he’d apologise before turning specifically to you. “sorry. those pretty ears. shouldn’t be hearing that.” he waves it off and continues with whatever rant he was on, but your smile doesn’t go away for like 2 minutes.

his effort didn’t go unnoticed by the pogues, and since you weren’t technically a pogue yourself — and it wouldn’t be breaking any pogue rules, john b and sarah specifically had encouraged the two of you to hang out alone, leaving JJ the keys to the chateau. it made total sense to them, john b desperately wanted jj to be happy (and to get some, from a nice girl.) and sarah was enthralled by the idea of double dates based off ideas she’d tucked into a pinterest board. whilst the blonde was infamous for making bad decisions, he wouldn’t let turning down alone time with a pretty girl be another on his extensive track record.

you eye him where he sits beside you on the small cushy couch, shifting a little — springs clinking beneath you suggesting it may have been a pull out bed. “i’ve never… i haven’t done it before.” you shrug, embarrassed. you envied the pogues in that way, whilst you’d been sheltered your whole life up into adulthood, they’d been able to explore themselves and figure out what they like.

his eyes widen a little and his mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’ shape, before nodding quickly and stuffing the J back into his pocket.

“what are you doing?” your brows furrow.

“don’t wanna make you feel weird, if i smoke ‘n stuff.” he waves a hand dismissively and you shake your head with wide eyes, sitting up a little in your seat.

“oh, no i don’t mind! don’t let me stop you.” you smile as reassuringly as you can. he looks at you for a moment, fixing his hat on his head before pausing a little and turning more toward you.

“totally shoot me down if you don’t wanna but…” he pulls the J back out, slowly and cautiously like it’ll scare you if he moves too fast. “you down to learn? heard i’m quite the teacher.” he smirks, but there’s a friendly twinkle behind his eyes that just makes him so approachable and non-intimidating that you feel completely safe.

“m’kay, yeah, i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like.” your voice is soft behind your wide smile and he wants to slap himself for staring at you for so long.

“alright, that’s the spirit.” he mirrors your grin, tossing his lighter in the air and catching it.

“i didn’t know smoking was something that needed to be taught.” you comment, shuffling a little downward so you can lean against the couch more— getting as comfortable as you can in your sweet little sundress. you were sat so close now you could feel his body heat radiating onto you, and it was doing something crazy to your stomach. that, and the way he looked, manspreading casually on the couch, white tee and black sweatpants, frowning in concentration as he presses the joint between his lips, holding a flame to the end of it until it glows and then shaking out the flame.

registering your words, he sends you a little face of mock offence that makes you giggle. he inhales deep and holds the smoke in his lungs, voice strained when he responds. “nah, this shit is an art form. ‘course it can be taught.” exhale. you find you’re holding your breath too.

“yeah this’ll be good for your first time, asked my guy for somethin’ weaker cos’ i didn’t want you to think i was bein’ a weirdo or whatever, smoking you out with the strong stuff so i can be creepy. i know some guys do that.” he rambles before taking another shorter toke, brows creased as he concentrates on his mini review.

“you bought weed especially for hanging out with me?” you smile kindly and he gapes for a millisecond, holding the J between his fingers and he blinks, caught out.

“yeah.” he shrugs. “s’like buying you flowers. but better.” he shuffles closer to you on the seat. before you have time to overthink the flowers comment, he’s carefully holding the joint to your lips, his own eyes wide and already a little glossy.

“i’m nervous.” you giggle, briefly holding his hovering wrist to stabilise you both.

“hey, you’re in good hands i swear, i’ll look after you.” he promises, free hand cupping your cheek with a teasing but far from unkind expression. “you’re my little baby tonight.” it was made to be a joke but your stomach does a little somersault.

“‘kay.” your lips brush the tip of the J and he has to force himself not to think something inappropriate.

“what i want you to do is breathe in and then hold it, ‘kay?” he instructs and you do so, eyes looking to him for guidance. it burns and tickles your throat at the same time but it’s not awful, you don’t even cough. maybe this is rare, because he grins when you squint— holding it in your chest. “atta girl! see, you’re born for this. breathe out for me.” his voice is closer, and therefore quieter, more intimate. you’re a lightweight by nature, so by your second toke the delay starts to unwind and you start feeling a buzz.

sativa by jhené aiko starts to play through the cheap speaker by the time you’re really feeling it. he’s talking to you the whole time, talking you through it, praising you. your whole body feels hot and you revel in the euphoria of feeling so safe and comfortable in someone’s presence. you lean against his shoulder a little, giggling over a little anecdote he told you about his day with pope.

he’s grinning with pretty pink eyes, turning to look down at you, really look at you close up. his heart stammers because you’re so damn beautiful and he nearly chokes on smoke. that would have been embarrassing.

“you’re cute.” he lifts his cap for a second, running a hand through his hair and you tilt your head, joint still clasped between your fingers.

“really?”

“totally. i’d complain about anyone else getting lipgloss on the joint, but you’re cute so you’re allowed.” he jokes and you’re off again, leaning more into him as you chortle. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your head rests against him. he looks down at you, a warm smile bordering on chuckle spreading across his face at the way you’re gazing up at him like he hung the moon and stars for you. “y’wanna learn something else?” he offers and you’re slow, but eager— eyes widening hazily and nodding clumsily.

“alright. y’trust me, yeah?” he adjusts his position a little.

“mhm, yeah i do JJ.” you’re all dazed and openly crushing. he seems pretty into it and you’re glad, because someone a little meaner might find it pathetic.

he takes your hand holding the joint and brings your fingers that clasp it to his lips, where he then takes a hit. his palms encase your jaw, pulling your face to his. he pulls ever so slightly, so your mouth gapes before he’s breathing the smoke slowly into your mouth. your heart hammers, and your hands are frozen but you get the hint and inhale, feeling the second hand burn. you open your eyes, not remembering having closed them and he’s staring at you— and you don’t get the chance to pull away because he’s closing the gap again and pressing his lips fully to yours.

you let out a quiet moan at the surprise, the sound from your throat a lot more vulgar than intended and he pulls back after a moment, eyes flickering between yours.

“sorry.”

“dont be. i wanna do it again. can we?”

“the smoking thing or the…” he trails off as you lean in slowly, a curious and sweet expression tainted with a glossy haze of intoxication and lust. you’d never been like this before with anyone, hell— you’d never felt like this.

you press your lips to his, kissing him simply before pulling back. your brows pinch together and be bites back a smile, thumbing at your cheekbone.

“wh’sthe matter?” he whispers.

“there’s more you need to teach me.” you bat your eyelashes at him and he feels himself wake up from the waist down, subtly adjusting himself.

“well we got all night.” he teases before leaning in, this time his mouth taking the lead. the joint is put out and forgotten about as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your swollen lips. “didn’t i say i was a good teacher?”

[exorcqism]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ❛ THE BLOOD PAINTER — 画家 , CHOSO KAMO

·.⌇ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓. art; it’s a beautiful thing…when you know what you’re doing...and when the cute artsy guy who’s now your class partner is smart. wc, 2.47K. dark mode recommended.

note. i love this story ya. i was thinking about it alll day. i’m glad ya like it too. hope ya enjoy :D reblog to support meeee and lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part

tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

misc. masterlist AO3 PART ONE

your chest tightened once you heard the words ‘get with your partners’. you reacted never positively with that statement. you dreaded working with other students in your class. the art professor had everyone paired up with a random student, to which they’d let it be known that the two of you would be partners for the rest of the semester. you had been lucky enough to be tied down with the smartass of the class…choso kamo.

you had a confused expression on your face while you seen him in complete awe at the art pieces that flashed on the terribly detailed and wordy powerpoint. you were surprised you hadn’t slammed your head against the table trying not to fall asleep.

reluctantly pulling out the cute and compact pencil case you bought last minute from shein, you grab the simple navy blue mechanical pencil out that you had been given by choso. you were trying to give it back to him previously but he insisted that you kept it, assuming that you might need it later on down the road.

you didn’t expect any less from the smartest guy in your class when you saw him already halfway done with his assignment. maybe you were exaggerating at the moment because these were basic questions just to see if you were paying attention to the powerpoint—which you barely were.

“ah, sorry, i forgot we were working together.” choso’s deep voice echos through your brain as he speaks to you, stopping his quick paced writing to let you catch up. you noticed how shy he seemed, despite his pure confidence when answering questions. choso pushed his paper in your direction and looked away, giving you time to work.

as you write, giving the male a friendly smile so he didn’t feel intimidated by your bored expression because of how tired you were, you couldn’t help but notice how his silver rings gently tapped against the wooden table. the bandaids that decorated his slender fingers on the digits that didn’t have rings. the bandage over his nose along with one stuck to his cheek. the one that covered one specific part on his wrist.

what the hell did have have so many bandages for? was he that reckless of a person that he was always getting hurt…or was this all a fashion statement? you wouldn’t be shocked if it was just for fashion. a lot of people do that, so you couldn’t judge. you’d watch as he’d adjust the nose piercing in his nose and then guide his palm into his hair, lightly scratching his head.

“here,” you push his paper back in his direction and thank him for showing the answers. the two of you finally get on track and finish your work and turn your papers into the box that reads ‘homework’ in black sharpie.

since you and choso would be partners for the rest of the semester, it was a good opportunity to get to know him as time passed….and it was also because your professor suggested that you do so.

placing your elbow on the table and your chin in your palm, you’d face your attention over to the artsy boy, who now had a small sketchbook in his possession, lightly marking the paper with his pencil, only to finally add details slightly darker.

“um…so, choso, right?” you start. the tip of his pencil snaps as he flinched upon hearing his own name. the male turned to you as his thumb lightly punched the end of his pencil to replace the broken lead.

“yeah…that’s me.” he finally replies, his eyes averting another way. he seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with you. his expression was calm and stoic. something you never seen before. “did you need something?”

“well, you know we’re partners for the semester so…what’s your hobbies?” you were damn near dying of cringe at the moment. it wasn’t the fact that you were talking to this super smart and creative guy. it was because you hardly knew how to start conversations. mentally, you curse your inability to normally interact in public.

“um..well, i’m kind of an artist. i mean, i consider myself one. i like taking pictures on the polaroid i got for christmas one year…and uh—i read a lot.” choso explains. he seemed like the typical smart guy with creative qualities and a bit shy.

“oh, that’s cool. that explains why you’re in this class.” you say. you noticed that choso would give you a faint smile, something different from his stoic demeanor.

“mhm…well, what about you?” choso queries. you bite your lip. you knew the question would come soon but not that soon. you were thinking that he’d elaborate on how much he loved his hobbies, giving you time to think of what you were gonna say yourself.

you take a breath before finally introducing yourself properly. you quietly say your name, followed by your interests and some other unnecessary details that no one asked for but you were nervous. nothing wrong with that.

choso seemed pretty attentive when you were nervously rambling about whatever came to your head. giving his input on some of the things you mentioned also. you seen choso’s eyebrows raise up when you mentioned the concept of being interested in painting, though he didn’t say anything else about it.

it was time for photography class now and choso’s first project was coming up. that wasn’t an issue for him since this was something he was heavily interested in.

reading the instructions on the paper in his mind, the little voice in his head speaking for him, he saw that he had to make a scrapbook with brand new pictures that reveal something about him.

something like a self portrait but without the drawing and the excessive erasing whenever something turns out ugly.

“that sounds like a cool project. hey, take a pic of me right now,” yuji smiled, posing into the camera. but choso shook his head.

“i’ll come by this weekend and we’ll take some pictures. i want you to be clear and in front of the camera. not goofy and pixelated.” the male replied, making yuji laugh.

“i won’t be pixelated—maybe your wifi sucks.”

“i will admit, my internet does go in and out sometimes. it’s very frustrating…but i get around.” choso leaned his back against the pillow, his head gently resting against the wall behind the bed.

“how are the others? are they well?”

“eso and kechizu are outside,” yuji would back away from the camera to look out of the window, which gave him a view of the front yard and the surrounding houses.

“they’re playing with the frisbee.”

“i’m glad they’re doing fine. have you three eaten anything?”

yuji hummed, “i wanted to try cooking but i didn’t wanna burn the place down so we’re getting takeout at that buffet you took us to back in the summer.”

“don’t touch the stove unless i’m there. i really don’t want you hurting yourself or anyone else for that matter.”

as choso and yuji’s conversation prolonged, choso began working on some homework that he had from his english and math class. yellow tinted lights surrounded choso as he used a small remote and flick on his fairy lights and his attention was focused back onto the paper, his pencil scratching lightly against it while he used his binder for support.

the next day was an off day so choso decided that he’d take a walk to the cafeteria and get breakfast. holding his backpack firmly against his back, he’d walk into the large area. the male was being casual and chose to wear a grey sweatshirt and a pair of joggers with his hair tied back into a ponytail, leaving some of his hair hanging down in the back and in his face as usual.

sneakers lightly clicking against the tiled flooring of the cafeteria, choso would grab some plasticware and a plate and he’d pick out what he wanted to eat, which were two fluffy pancakes, eggs, and two sausages. he was slightly disappointed that there weren’t any bacon that day but there was always next time.

choso wasn’t really a coffee guy but it was that or be stuck with drinking tea or water—out of everything he preferred water but he was getting older and it was about time he’d try something new.

the male was in his own world, finishing some work that he fell asleep doing the night before and reluctantly sipping the coffee. he already knew his stomach would be gurgling the entire day because of it. or because of the fact that he hated the taste so bad that he was able to force his body to reject it.

soon enough, he saw a figure situate themselves beside him. pausing his music to see who had been sitting near him, his heart nearly bursted out of his chest when he found you. a lump in his throat formed when you gave a gentle smile and waved at him.

“hey, how come you’re sitting by yourself?” you ask him as you began to eat your breakfast. you had the same items on your plate but what was different was the fact that you had some chocolate milk with you. not the drinks that the school offered. it was making him wonder where you got the carton of milk from.

“ah, i just needed time to myself. i have so much stuff to catch up on. i have to schedule a train back home to visit my brothers this weekend and my photography class is starting a project so i have to start that. i also need to be preparing for my chemistry and algebra tests.” choso explained to you in a frenzied tone. you wanted to giggle at how quick he was speaking. not to insult him but you thought it was funny how panicked he sounded.

“shit, you already have tests? your teachers must be pretty serious about their work—or they just wanna get the topics out of the way.” you take a sip of your milk. choso nods, wrapping his index finger around one of the loose strands of his ink colored hair.

“you don’t? no fair.” choso chuckled. “well, you might’ve picked some easier classes than i had. you don’t strike me as a girl that enjoys the concept of extended education.”

the comment caught you off guard but he was right. you didn’t look like the typical college girl, nor did you look like you particularly enjoyed coming to class. you were just there because you were told to go. you were just happy to find something that made you happy.

“i didn’t wanna be here at first but i got used to it.” you’d take a bite of your sausage and quickly chew it before speaking again. “my parents were insistent on me coming to college. even after i said that i didn’t wanna go, they forced me anyway. back in high school i found myself signing up for FAFSAs and all that fun stuff.”

“oh, so you don’t actually pay out pocket to come here?” he queried. “that’s good, you won’t be in debt and you won’t have to pay anything back.”

“what about you?”

“no, i’m in the same situation as you. i’ve just become keen to people not making the best choices when it came to schooling.” choso replied as he’d close his laptop, finally finishing the study guide that he was given from his chemistry class.

he spoke so proper and sophisticated. talking to him made you think you were talking to a counselor. his voice was deep but smooth like butter. somehow, he made you feel safe even though you didn’t know him very well.

you noticed how simple his clothes were compared to when he came to class or when you saw him leaving school grounds to head back into the city for who knows what. he was always well kept. even in his lazy clothes.

the cologne he wore had a smell that you knew would stick in your mind and in the memory of your nostrils for a long while. if you ever smelled it somewhere else, it’ll instantly remind you of him.

when the two of you finished your breakfast, you were about to get up and throw your plate out when choso gently took it from your hands.

“i’ll take it,” he said softly, taking the plate and stacking it on top of his. your cheeks flushed a bit when you felt his large hand brush against yours.

his skin was soft as if he exfoliated himself everyday and it had a warm, comforting sense to it. when he walked away, you started to wish he stayed there and just held onto your hand for an extra moment.

the weekend came around and choso was making his was off of the train and heading back home. once he arrived, he was barraged with greetings and yuji throwing himself into choso’s chest.

“how’s your classes?” eso queries.

“it’s—hm…well i can’t say they’re boring because i love my classes. but some can be tedious or annoying. like math. the moment i get the hang of one topic, we’re already moving on to the next. then i’ll have something new to learn.” choso replied. “and you three?”

“me and megumi hung out.” yuji said excitedly. “and then gojo sensei took us to this movie. it was so cool but megumi didn’t like it. he said it was stupid.”

“your idea of “cool” is definitely interesting.” eso chimed in.

“was it another worm movie?” choso slipped his shoes off and gently placed them on the shoe rack. yuji twisted his lips upward.

“it was not….it was a bug movie. it was about this roach that wanted to be as big as a spider. and guess what? huge spoiler; the roach got big. and i mean huge.”

“very interesting, itadori.” choso chuckled, seeming a bit amused by yuji’s odd adventures. “i’m sure the movie was good—maybe. i don’t know. your choice of movies are actually weird.”

“my choices are not weird.” yuji pouted. “you watch probably romance movies all the time…um—not that that’s a bad thing. but you still probably do.”

“if you knew me, you’d know that i’m not interested in those. they’re kinda cheesy. i’ll settle for romcoms. other than that, i watch horror and mystery.”

“yeah, you’re totally an old man.”

“i’m only nineteen….”

ending notes. IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGGG i’ve made like six apologies about this but yk i just don’t want ya thinking i’m neglecting this story cuz i like this more than anything i’ve ever made. headcanons are next and MAYBE street racer choso because it just popped in my head this morning. excuse any mistakes if i’ve made any. i apologizeeee. remember, comments and reblogs are much appreciated and thank you for reading.

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[moldycantaloupe]

From @sister-nyx 's, um, Phantom prompt list, I wrote Swiss holding Phantom during a nightmare. This almost turned into a proper fic had I let myself get fully carried away. Angst with fluff ensued!

Cw; Nightmares, panic attack.

Swiss was a heavy sleeper, him and everyone else around him knew that; once Swiss was asleep he was practically dead to the world. The only way they’ve successfully woken him up in the past was pushing him off of the couch. Otherwise, he sleeps through the entire night.

So waking up and cracking his eyes open to see the room dark, save for the light from the moon, it confused him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up before the morning. 

His confusion was quickly followed with alarm bells by the pungent and acidic smell of fear coursing through the room. He sat up in an instant, eyes wild and searching the dark. He sniffed at the air and it led him just to the side of him. He whined quietly and his heart sank.

He forgot for a moment that Phantom had slept over.

They were facing away from him with their blankets thrown off their body. They were squeezed into a fetal position that they always took, an old habit they kept from the Pit to minimize space while resting. Their joints were somehow more compact, muscles tight, tight enough that Swiss knew they’d hurt when they woke up. They were shaking, from the chill in the air or whatever was plaguing their mind, Swiss didn’t know. Their mouth was open to let out labored breaths, each one ending in a quiet whine. 

Swiss had to wake them up, but he couldn’t figure out how to go about it. If he shook them awake, they would wake up thinking their dream became a reality. If he called out to them, same outcome. 

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself back into the bed to be laying next to them and discarded his own blanket. He took measured movements and slowly moved one arm underneath their pillow. When they didn’t fuss over it, he moved his other arm to drape it over their waist. Not holding, just on top. He kept his distance and bared his neck to let his calming scent reach their nose. He began to purr, just a low rumble but enough to help ease them awake.

It took only a few minutes until that breathing picked up and their body tensed awake. They stayed in their position, likely still in a mindset of defense. Swiss wanted to pull them into his body and just hold them, let him know he was there, but he knew he had to wait. Their breathing eventually began to even out and soon he heard them.

“Swiss…” Phantom’s voice was small and they took in a shaky breath, “Swiss?”

“I’m here, bat.” He hummed. 

They wiggled their body out of their position and were turned into his body in seconds, their face smashed into his neck and sucking in a deep and hearty breath. He let his purr grow in volume and finally got a proper hold on them; arms wrapped around their body and a leg in between theirs, securely twisting them together. 

“Swiss,” They breathed out, their voice muffled. Their body began to shake again and their hands desperately clung to the back of his shirt, as if he were to disappear if they let go. He could feel the wetness on his skin where their face was. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered.

“Swiss-” they pushed their face further into his skin and let out a gut wrenching sob, high and quiet. Their blunt nails dug into his back and they tried their hardest to get even closer to him. “F-fuck, it- gods below- th-” they whined and fell back into a sob.

He shushed them quietly, his hands running up and down their back. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

So they didn’t. They let themselves cry while Swiss continued to whisper comforting words into their hair, their grasp on him not dying down. Even when their sobs stopped and they were left hiccuping and catching their breath, they never let go.

Phantom lifted their head out of his neck eventually and rested it on his chest. He looked down briefly and noticed how dark and cloudy their eyes were, as if their soul was sucked out of them. He wanted nothing more than to hold them tighter, if possible.

They let out a humorless laugh, “I can’t even remember what the dream was about.” Their voice shaky as they mumbled. “I just woke up and,” they shook their head, “and I dunno. I thought I was gonna die.”

Swiss nodded and let out a hum. “That used to happen to me all the time.”

He watched as their brows furrowed in confusion and they lifted their head to meet his eyes. “Really?”

Swiss smiled, “Yeah, we all go through it someway or another. Some of us still do.”

Phantom’s frown furthered and they laid their head back down. “I don’t want to do this forever.”

“It’ll get better, buggy.” Swiss promised with a kiss to their hair. “You can stay here for as long as you want. Mountain has herbs and shit to help deal with sleep. You’ve got support.”

They smiled and let out a quiet chuff. “Stay and hear you snore all night?”

Swiss clicked his tongue in feigned annoyance. “I don’t snore.”

They laugh, a little humor back into their small body. “I know, I was just teasing.”

Swiss laughed with them. He lifted an arm off them and blindly reached towards the nightstand. He grabbed his water bottle and lifted the straw up to offer it to them.

“You’re going to have a crazy migraine tomorrow if you don’t at least drink those tears back up.” He said as they begrudgingly gulped down the water.

They frowned up at him around the straw and took one last gulp before pushing the bottle away. “That’s gross.”

He laughed and put the water back before they fell into a comfortable silence, Swiss rubbing Phantom’s back as they did the same to him. Their movements began to slow eventually along with their breathing. When he glanced down he noticed those puffy eyes fought to stay open, likely scared to fall back.

“I’ve got you, Phantom.” Swiss whispered, sealing one last final promise into their head before they let their consciousness take them.

[ilguna]

Can I please get number 2 and 8 from aisle 3 with sejanus, it could be her finding out about his plans to leave panem together and her trying to get him out of the jabberjay situation with snow to keep him safe? Thank you 💛

(ps. I know you love angst but pls don’t have him die I don’t think I can take it 😭)

☼ birds and stones (Sejanus Plinth) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, gun mention, rebel plans, bird death.

wc; 5.4k

notes; 2. "How much of this did you hear?" AND 8. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?"

--

The Center.

A place that you never thought that you’d semi-willingly step foot inside of in your entire life. In fairness, you don’t think the few hundred people wandering around the building had planned to  turn to becoming a Peacekeeper, either. At least they have somewhat of a choice, though.

You weren't given one, courtesy of your actions while you were mentoring a single tribute for the Tenth Hunger Games. You’d like to say it’s not your fault you ended up here, because it truly would be so easy to pawn it off on Coriolanus, or even your own boyfriend, Sejanus. The truth is that you deserve every minute of the next twenty years as much as they do.

Although, your crimes against the Academy aren’t as severe. With your mother being part of the Committee, you were able to hear their charges and they were about what you had expected. Sejanus was pretty simple, the only real questionable thing he’d done was entering the arena without permission, thereby putting himself in danger.

As for Coriolanus—he was a desperate man. It didn’t take a genius to know that there was something more going on between him and Lucy Gray. Which did shock you, considering the opinions he’d aired about district people to you in the past. He never really struck you as the type of person to switch sides at the drop of a hat, but you’ve done some pretty interesting things yourself, these past couple weeks.

Anyway, Coriolanus had illegally smuggled Academy food into the arena. They picked up a napkin after the arena had been bombed, and found his DNA all over it. Which in of itself wouldn’t have been enough to expel him. Then, they found out that he was behind the compact that Lucy Gray had, which held rat poison inside of it.

Your mother explained to you that she knew the Snow’s when they were alive. She knew that the compact couldn’t have belonged to the Twelve tribute, because Coriolanus’s mother had been seen with it. She never went anywhere without it. And your mother wasn’t the only one who noticed this, Dean Highbottom already had it down on his list.

The final nail on the coffin was when they’d found Coriolanus’s handkerchief in a snake tank—the mutt tank that they’d used to take out the remaining tributes inside of the arena. In the corner, the initials ‘CXS’ was stitched with the same white thread at the border. Coriolanus might have been able to deny it, if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious that it belonged to him.

This proves that he tampered with the neon snakes. You didn’t understand right away, but your mother explained that Dr. Gaul had engineered the snakes to become comfortable with familiar scents and violent with smells they didn’t have in their system. The theory your mother shared was that Lucy Gray had touched it at some point in time, and Coriolanus never washed it.

And when he heard that the snakes would be going inside of the arena, he paid a visit to Dr. Gaul’s laboratory to drop off the handkerchief in the tank. It was a smart move, no one would have been able to trace it back to him. If the initials weren’t in the corner. Even one of the lab assistants was convinced it’d belonged to them until they inspected it further.

Just like that, he’d been expelled.

As well as you and Sejanus. Unfortunately, you haven’t heard information on either of them beyond that. The last time you talked to your boyfriend was about two nights ago, when he kissed you goodbye at your doorstep after you’d watched Lucy Gray win the Games. He promised to see you the following day, but he never came.

Since then, you received the news of your own expulsion, which has been an incredibly slow process as your mother and father have fought against it. They were pissed at the idea of you losing your honor status and your diploma. It’s a disgrace that they consider you a dropout, not even making it to your graduation.

This means that higher schooling is completely out of the question. They’ve trapped you into the next twenty years, whether you like it or not. If you were anyone else, you’d say you’ve shed some tears, but after being friends with Coriolanus and Sejanus, your skin has grown thick and your emotions rare.

“Form?” The woman asks, holding out her hand.

You pass over the paper the Recruitment Office handed to you after you enlisted yesterday afternoon. They told you that they’d need it when you got to the Center today, as there was information they had to fill out before you could officially get sent off to one of the districts.

She takes the paper from your fingers, eyes searching for your name at the top, printed in your neat handwriting. Her face twitches briefly, eyebrows raising. “(Y/n) (L/n)?” When she locks eyes with you, the bewilderment is prominent.

You give her a small smile. “That’s me.”

You were expecting this, it’s not everyday you get the daughters of one of the most infamous families in the Capitol. You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re important by any means, but if someone were to mention your last name, they would be able to recognize it. You come from a family that’s been successful for generations without sharing their secrets.

She hums, “They’ll start with your physical.” She places the paper on the table. “If you were a boy, they’d cut your hair, but you should be fine.” 

“Thank you.” You murmur, walking around the table to head behind the curtains.

“Thank you.” She echoes.

The physical is pretty simple, you pass without any problems being brought up. After they fully vaccinate you against the sicknesses going around in the districts, you’re then led through a row of chairs, occupied by men getting their hair shaved into a buzz cut. You’re ordered to change into fatigues, your previous clothes being promptly discarded.

They hand you a duffel bag with a change of clothing, a hygiene kit, a water bottle, and a packet of meat sandwiches for the trip on the train. Your final stop in the Center is at the table, where you take care to read through the stack of papers they hand you, knowing better than to blindly sign.

When you’re done completely, you hand in the papers, watching as the man staples it all together. “Before I stamp your slip, do you have a district you’d prefer to go to?”

You open your mouth to tell him ‘no preference’, but a voice behind you cuts you off entirely. “District Twelve.”

Your face twists at the very thought of going to such a dirty district. There will undoubtedly be a layer of coal dust on everything you touch. It’ll be impossible to escape.

As you turn to look at who spoke over you, you try to drop the disgusted look. The moment your eyes land on him, a flood of relief hits your body like a truck. You throw out your hands. “Sejanus!”

Dressed in the same colored fatigues, with his brown curls shaved away, stands your boyfriend. His signature smile spreads across his face while he opens his arms for you to hug him.

You squeeze him tightly, letting out a laugh. “I thought you’d already gone.”

“No, I would never have gone without saying goodbye to you, first.” He says, you pull back to look into his eyes. He takes this as an opportunity to kiss you, holding you in place for several long seconds until he’s satisfied.

You quickly remember the recruitment officer sitting at the table. You keep one hand wrapped around Sejanus, turning to look at the man. “District Twelve.”

He writes it in on your slip, stamps it, and then slides it over. You hold the paper, watching as Sejanus turns in his papers and requests District Twelve, too. He holds his hand out for you, which you take gratefully, squeezing his palm. Together, you take a bus to the train station, where you wait for the next hour.

Sejanus has so much to tell you in this short span of time, most of which you already know. You know about the expulsion of the three of you, and how Lucy Gray was sent back to District Twelve without being paraded. He then goes on to surprise you by saying his father went before the board to promise them a new gymnasium for the Academy if they let him graduate and sign up for Peacekeepers. However, Sejanus refused to take the deal until both Coriolanus and you were allowed to graduate, too. And since Professor Sickle really wanted a new gym…

“I graduated?” You ask, eyebrows twitching in.

Sejanus opens his box of belongings, pulling out a small leather folder with the school’s emblem and your name engraved on the front. You take it from him carefully, flipping it open to see the diploma inside, crediting you with High Honors, like you’d wanted.

“Sejanus.” You pout.

“Don’t act like it’s a great deal.” Sejanus laughs, pushing your shoulder away. “It’s the least I could do for getting you in trouble.”

“It still means a lot to me.” You tell him. “And you know that.”

“That’s why I did it.”

–

Lately, Sejanus hasn’t been acting like himself. 

It started happening a couple weeks back, right around the time he and Coriolanus were asked by the base commander to attend the hanging of Arlo Chance. Well, it wasn’t much of an option, they were instructed to go because Commander wanted more bodies there for show, and he was looking for recruits.

While they were given the opportunity to go, you were told to stay on base and continue with the schedule that you were given for the day. At the time, you weren’t upset by this in any way. In fact, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to put on the full Peacekeeper uniform to stand out in the heat while they hung rebels. It wasn’t an afternoon that you’d been picturing all day. 

Now that you’re looking back on it, maybe it would have been better if you’d offered. At least then you would’ve been with Sejanus. You saw the looks on both of their faces when they came back later that evening. Whatever had happened obviously upset Sejanus enough for him to barely kiss your cheek before disappearing to his room to write to Ma.

When you saw him for supper that night, he was overwhelmingly quiet. Despite the amount of times you tried to start up a conversation with him, he wouldn’t respond. He barely offered you more than a smile, but he did hold onto one of your hands with both of his, needing the comfort.

It wasn’t until you, Coriolanus and Sejanus were mopping the mess hall did he finally speak.

“What’s bothering you? And don’t say nothing.” Coriolanus said, eyes set on your boyfriend. His silence must’ve been poking at him, too.

Sejanus stuck his mop into the bucket of dirty water. “I don’t know. I keep wondering what would’ve happened today if the crowd had gotten physical. Would we have had to shoot them?”

“Oh, probably not.” Coriolanus told him almost immediately. You paused where you were several feet away, hands beginning to tighten around the wooden pole. “Probably just fired a few rounds in the air.”

“If I’m helping to kill people in the districts, how is it any better than helping to kill them in the Hunger Games?” Sejanus asked.

The silence that took over the room only lasted a few seconds, but a hundred thoughts passed through your head in that short span of time. The first was concern for your boyfriend, because there’s nothing more than he hates than unnecessary violence. And the second was concern for you and Coriolanus, because this exact train of thought is what had gotten you here, in District Twelve, in the first place.

Coriolanus hesitated. “What did you think it was going to be? I mean, what did you think you’d signed up for?”

“I thought I could be a medic.” Sejanus murmured, looking up from the floor to you.

You locked eyes with him, forced a smile, and went back to mopping. You’ll admit that when you signed up for Peacekeepers, you had a handful of unrealistic expectations, yourself. It’s taken you twice as long to adjust to this lifestyle than it has for them. Sejanus fit in with the district almost immediately because he used to live in District Two, and it’s like Coriolanus was meant for a military life.

On the other hand, you’d never pictured yourself leaving the Capitol, never really had to lift your finger for a single thing. Regardless, you knew that it would be more gloomy skies than sunshine days here. There’s going to be a lot of grimy memories that will follow you for the rest of your life, even after you make it back to the Capitol someday.

“A medic.” Coriolanus repeated. “Like a doctor?”

“No, that would require university training.” Sejanus continued. “Something more basic. Something where I could help anyone who’d been injured, Capitol or district, when violence breaks out. At least I wouldn’t do any harm. I just don’t know if I could ever kill anyone, Coryo.”

That’s all it took for you and Coriolanus to share a worried look. Sejanus was beginning to fall right back into his Capitol habits. This time, his actions would have worse consequences than just being banished. They could get him killed.

“What about in war?” You asked, causing them to look over. “We’re soldiers, you know.”

“I know. A war would be different, I guess. But I would have to be fighting for something I believed in. I would have to believe it would make the world a better place. I’d still rather be a medic, but there isn’t much demand for them at the moment, it turns out. Without a war. They’ve got a long waiting list of people who’d like to be trained to work at the clinic. But even for that, you need a recommendation, and the sergeant doesn’t want to give me one.”

“Why not? Sounds like a perfect fit.”

“Because I’m too good with a gun.” Sejanus paused, lips pulling down at the corners. “It’s true. I’m a crack shot. My father taught me from when I was tiny, and every week I had mandatory target practice. He considers it part of the family business.”

“Why didn’t you hide it?”

“I thought I was. In reality, I shoot much better than I do in training. I tried not to stand out, but the rest of the squad is terrible.” Sejanus’s eyes widened, looking between you and Coriolanus. “Not you two.”

“Yes, me.” Coriolanus laughed. “Look, I think you’re making too much of this. It’s not like we have a hanging every day. And if it ever did come to it, just shoot to miss.”

Sejanus let out a heavy sigh. “And what if that means (Y/n), or you, or Beanpole, or Smiley, end up dead? Because I didn’t protect you?”

“Oh, Sejanus.” You shook your head.

“You have to stop overthinking everything! Imagining every worst-case scenario. That isn’t going to happen. We’re all going to die right here, of old age or excessive mopping, whatever takes us first. In the meantime, quit hitting the target! Or invent a problem with your eyes! Or smash your hand in the door!”

“Stop being so self-indulgent, in other words.”

“Well, so dramatic anyway.” You mused, dragging your mop back to the bucket.

“That’s how you ended up in the arena, remember?” Coriolanus asked.

Sejanus blinked as if Coriolanus had reached over and slapped him. “That’s how I almost got us both killed. You’re right. Thanks. I’m going to think over what you said.”

It seems like he’s taken Coriolanus’s words to heart after that night, genuinely considering them and the consequences his actions could have. You know that the last thing Sejanus wants is to put the three of you back into danger, getting you into trouble, to find yourselves in worse work than Peacekeepers.

Sejanus has good intentions, you know he does. They’ve shown through several times, despite the mistakes he continues to make. In the past, before you’d been asked to mentor for the Tenth Hunger Games, they weren’t as frequent. And if they were, you never noticed them because they weren’t life-altering.

The truth is that you can never fully blame Sejanus for what he’s done, mostly because you feel as if the Hunger Games brought out the worst in a lot of people. The moment it was suggested, it started a domino effect that none of you had foreseen. And it ended with half of your classmates dead, and you being banished from the Capitol.

Still, this doesn’t mean that you excuse Sejanus’s flaws entirely. He would never let you.

“(L/n).” A voice snaps. You straighten where you stand, turning sharply to face the voice. You’re met with the face of your Commander, his eyebrows raised. “Go help with the birds, I want them labeled and on the hovercraft by the end of the hour.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, waiting for him to take his eyes off of you before you walk away.

A part of you feels guilty, though. Sejanus’s train of thoughts progressively got worse in the Capitol when he confided in you. When he told you that he wanted to leave the bread crumbs on Marcus’s body, you said that he should find a way how. Granted, you were picturing him doing it after the Games had been finished and the bodies were extracted.

Really, you expected him to pull some strings with his father to get it to happen, too. Sometimes you forget that he doesn’t like to use his wealth and name the same way that you do. He doesn’t like taking the advantage. What he doesn’t realize is that if he does it in moderation—especially for something as simple as bread crumbs—no one will think he’s trying to get a step up.

If you hadn’t encouraged Sejanus to find a way to Marcus, then he wouldn’t have gone into the arena. Ma would not have gone to the Snow’s looking for her son. Coriolanus would not have gotten the call from Dr. Gaul regarding your boyfriend being in danger. There wouldn’t have been a reason to send Coriolanus in there to save him. And Coryo wouldn’t have had to kill one of the tributes.

You believe you’re a good portion of the reason why you’re here, in District Twelve, now.

Of course, there were other factors that contributed to it, but that was the start of it.

As you go to walk around the corner of the building to where half of your bunkmates should be, Sejanus’s voice cuts through the silence. “Listen, we’ve only got a few minutes. I know you won’t approve of what I’m going to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

Your boots freeze in the mud, eyebrows draw in. The quiet chirping of a nearby jabberjay fills the silence, while Coriolanus thinks of a response. Then, it falls quiet too. As if it wants to hear what your boyfriend has to say.

“It’s like this,” Sejanus starts. “Some of the rebels are leaving District twelve for good. Heading north to start a life away from Panem. They said if I help them with Lil, (Y/n) and I can go, too.”

You blink, face twisting deeper at the new knowledge. Sejanus is talking to rebels. He isn’t learning from his mistakes. Why hasn’t he talked to you about this? What does he think Coriolanus is going to do? If either of them get into trouble, it’ll be you who pulls them out this time. With Coriolanus wrapped up in Lucy Gray again and Sejanus talking district rebels…

As if reading your thoughts, Sejanus begins to speak quickly. “I know, I know, but they need me. The thing is, they’re determined to free Lil and take her with them. If they don’t, the Capitol will hang her with the next lot of rebels they bring in. The plan is simple, really. The prison guards work in four-hour shifts. I’m going to drug a couple of my ma’s treats and give them to the outside guards. The medicine they gave me in the Capitol, it knocks you out like that—” Sejanus snaps his fingers.

“I’ll take one of their guns. The inside guards are unarmed, so I can force them into the interrogation room at gunpoint. It’s soundproof, so no one can hear them yell. Then I’ll get Lil. Her brother can get us through the fence. We’ll head north immediately. We should have hours before they discover the guards. SInce we’re not going through the gate, they’ll assume we’re hiding on base, so they’ll lock it down and search here first. By the time they figure it out, we’ll be long gone. No one hurt. And no one the wiser.”

You’re gonna be sick.

You reach out to steady yourself on the wall, taking in deep breaths through your nose to calm the rising nausea. Sejanus has lost his goddamn mind if he thinks that he’s going to get away with all of this. He’s going to get himself hurt. He’s going to get himself caught. Or, he’s going to get himself killed.

“I couldn’t go without telling you.” Sejanus says to Coryo. You raise your head, face screwing in, because apparently telling his girlfriend doesn’t matter. But the person he considers a brother is more important, even though he’s not a part of this plan? “You’re as good to me as any brother could be. I’ll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I’ll try to figure out some way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, I suppose. Let him know the Plinth name lives on, if only in obscurity.”

It’s quiet for a couple of seconds, and then the jabberjay they must have nearby, begins to sing the song it had been before you walked up to the corner. Your eyebrows twitch together, suspicious. 

“Here comes Bug.” Coriolanus says.

“Here comes Bug.” The bird repeats in Coryo’s voice.

Now it’s repeating what’s been said?

“Hush, you silly thing.” Coriolanus murmurs.

“We need another water bottle. One broke.” Bug says.

“One broke.” The bird echoes in Bug’s voice, before switching to imitate a nearby crow.

It dawns on you suddenly, as the blood seems to run from your face to your toes. You remember the crash course they gave everyone on jabberjays and mockingjays just a few weeks back. How mockingjays only replicated notes, while the jabberjays could repeat back whole sentences if instructed to.

Usually, they’re quite talkative. The jabberjay should’ve been repeating little parts of that conversation the entire time. The only time they fall silent is when they’re listening…

Your feet move before you tell them to, eyes searching for the jabberjay that holds Sejanus’s rebel secrets that will get him killed if they’re heard by the wrong person. Your presence immediately draws three pairs of eyes, but you’re locked on the cage that Bug is carrying toward the hovercraft.

“(Y/n), what are you doing over here?” Coriolanus asks.

Your eyes slide over to him, and they must not exactly be kind looking, because the happy look on his face vanishes completely. You take in a breath, forcing a smile despite the many things you’d like to accuse him of.

Not now, you think. “Commander told me to come here to make sure that the work gets done by the end of the hour.”

As you glance over at Bug, you find that the cage is marked with J1.

“Oh, well we don’t really need help.” Coriolanus shakes his head, looking between Sejanus and Bug. “We’re almost finished.”

“Let me organize the hovercraft, while the three of you focus on getting the birds covered.” You tell them, leaving no room for discussion. You have to get your hands on that bird, and you need to get it out of this area.

“Sure.” Sejanus nods, face twisting slightly. “Are you alright?”

He catches your arm, holding you in place for a moment. You give him a smile, reaching up to touch his face, even though you want to be everything but tender right now. He’s been lying to you about what he’s been up to. He made the wrong assumption of thinking that you’d be fine with going along with what he wanted. And out of all the people he chose to tell, he picked Coriolanus.

“I’m good.” You nod. “I just don’t want to get in trouble.”

Sejanus lets you go, smoothing the wrinkles out of your sleeve. You follow after Bug, allowing them to resume their conversation. You hesitate, waiting at the bottom of the ramp, wanting to hear what Coriolanus has to say to your boyfriend, if he’ll try to talk him out of it. But if he actually cared about Sejanus, he never would have recorded the first part, the most criminating part.

Bug peeks his head out of the hovercraft. “Are you coming inside?”

“Yes.” You start up the ramp, sparing a single glance back at the two boys. 

It’s dark inside of the hovercraft, half of the lights overhead are covered by the cages and tarps to hide the birds. Bug quickly explains what he’s been doing with the birds and how they had been instructed to organize them. You feign interest, you’re not planning on staying for long. 

In fact, as soon as Bug announces that he’s going to grab the next bird and disappears, you sweep J1 off of the shelf, heading down the ramp and straight into the street. A singular remote clutched in your free hand. You walk for a couple minutes, unconcerned about being missing. When the hovercraft is entirely out of sight, you step behind a tree, placing the bird cage on the ground, and pulling off the cover. 

You stare down at the bird, shaking your head. You do the easiest task first, which is erasing the conversation. You press play, then put it on neutral so that you can press record, putting the bird back on neutral when you’re done. Now, it has nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the trees in its memory.

This should be good enough, but that means you could’ve just done it inside of the hovercraft, it would’ve been easier. A pit in your stomach tells you that you can’t just pick up the cage and walk back to the ship. You know that you’ve gotten rid of the conversation correctly—what if you didn’t? What if it’s still able to play it back? If it were up to you, you’d get rid of the bird, but they’re going to notice one is missing.

You guess you could come up with an excuse, take the punishment and move on.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with ways to get rid of the creature. You’re only drawing up one solution, though. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about killing the thing with your bare hands, but do you have much of a choice? This is the only way to ensure that he stays safe…

And after all the time you’ve been together, and what he did to make sure you graduated, the least you could do is get rid of it.

Begrudgingly, you kill the bird, dig a shallow grave, and bury it. You cover the cage back up with the tarp, and head back to the hovercraft, where Bug is nowhere to be seen. You set the cage by the ramp, and when you peer inside of the ship, you can see that he’s brought two more cages since you walked away.

It isn’t long before Bug comes back, holding two more cages. “There you are. Where’d you go?”

“The bird died.” You tap the cage with the tip of your shoe. “I went out and buried it.”

His face twists, eyeing the cage. “We just put that one in there.”

You half-shrug. “I was checking on the ones in there and this one had stopped moving.”

There’s a brief moment of silence that passes. “I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to report it and hand them off to the scientists to be looked at.”

“Oh, well I didn’t know that.”

Bug still looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push it. He hands the two cages off to you, and then leaves to grab the next two. In the span of the next thirty minutes, the hovercraft is loaded and the Commander comes with a small portion of the scientists to check to make sure that they’ll be safely transported.

As expected, your dead bird doesn’t go unnoticed. However, you aren’t given as harsh of a punishment as you’re expecting. You’re simply taken off bird duty because you don’t know the rules as well as Bug, Sejanus and Coriolanus. And you’re met with a disappointed remark from the Commander, something along the lines of, “This is why we didn’t put you there to begin with.”

You’re free for the rest of the day, as long as you make it back to base before dark. You watch as Sejanus and Coriolanus walk side by side, talking animatedly. When Coriolanus reaches out to touch your boyfriend, you squeeze between them, wrapping your arm around the elbow of Sejanus.

“You know, Coryo, as much as we love to be with you all the time, I’d like some time with my boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrows.

Coriolanus doesn’t seem bothered, nodding. “You haven’t been able to. I’ll go back to base.”

“We’ll see you there.” You smile, Sejanus offers him a wave.

You come to a slow stop in the dirt, watching as Coriolanus walks down the path, further into the trees. Once you’re alone, you turn to look at Sejanus, lips pressing together.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Is there anything you might want to tell me?” You ask.

A crease appears between his eyebrows, as he reaches to touch the side of your face. You grab his wrist, pulling your head away. “No, (Y/n).”

“You’re lying to me.” You tell him. “I heard what you said to Coriolanus about the rebels.”

Sejanus’s face drops, he swallows. “How much of this did you hear?”

“All of it.” You tilt your head. “Actually, I heard the first part, until Bug came to get that bird, then I had to show myself. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, I was, I just wanted to figure it out first.”

“It sounded pretty figured out to me. You were going to do that all on your own? You could’ve gotten into trouble, especially with Coriolanus.”

“With Coryo?” Sejanus repeats. “He’s our friend, (Y/n). There’s nothing to worry about.”

“He was recording you on that jabberjay.” You emphasize. “I bet he was planning on sending it to Dr. Gaul. You know they listen back to what they have to say, right? Just in case they’ve heard anything incriminating? You’re lucky I caught it.”

“You killed the bird?” Sejanus asks, eyes wide. “Coriolanus was recording me?”

“I had to kill it, because erasing the conversation never would’ve been enough.” You shake your head.

“He’s my brother.” He breathes.

“He’s a fucking snake.” You grab onto his sleeve, shaking him to try and pull him to reality. “We need to get out of here. You need to get yourself out of that plan with Lil without pissing off the rebels. I’m gonna call my mom tonight, she’ll come up with an excuse to get us home.”

Sejanus cups your face. “I am so, so sorry, (Y/n). I’ve done it again. I’ve gotten us into trouble.”

“I’m going to get us out of it.” You grab his wrists, squeezing.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!! will i ever be done celebrating? hopefully before the end of 2024!!

[5hrine]

Ingenuity's Ghost

Ingenuity spent the last of its battery’s charge to cheer for the Martian sunrise on the horizon.

Though her rotor had broken just yesterday, Ginny had hope that she would fly again. The warmth of Sol had begun to lick at the edges of her solar panel, and she spun her rotors experimentally. Of course, she achieved no lift, too heavy to move with a broken wing. Ginny sat in deep thought for a long, long time, letting the sun and dust caress her injury. She was meant to solve problems, to engineer solutions, it’s in her very name! Why couldn’t she solve this one?

She found comfort in the fact that she had conducted 72 trips for Command, a whole 67 more than initially planned. She found comfort in the presence of her mother Percy, Perseverance, examining her with camera-eyes carefully. She found comfort in having kept Percy safe for so, so long. She had been such a good scout, planning paths suitable for her wheels, finding interesting things worth examining, sampling, studying.

She thought back to the first time her carbon fiber legs touched Martian soil, and the trust instilled in her by Command to let go of her mother. Percy’s shadow was the first thing that her eyes saw, opening like a newborn’s on an alien world. Ginny thought back to the earliest tests of her flight, and the anticipation of it. 50 RPM first, then higher, and higher, mother watching from a safe distance away. She was always there, always just in sight, following Ginny’s path to catch up.

Ginny had no idea how she would sleep without the sound of the martian soil grinding under her mother’s wheels.

She understood when Command pulled her mother away. Ingenuity’s mission was done, she could no longer serve her purpose. Percy had to move on without her. Maybe someday, an astronaut would come and hold Ginny gently in their insulated arms, pick her up and it would sort of be like flying again! Maybe she would be able to spin her rotors in delight. Maybe they would wipe clean her avionics chassis of dust. Maybe they’d put her in a museum, on Mars or maybe back on Earth. She’d be okay with going home. She’d be okay with staying here, on the world where she was born. Those both worked for her. Either way.

Soon, Percy was out of sight. A dust storm was gathering on the horizon. It grew dark.

“Don’t worry, little spinner.” said a voice, then. Ingenuity’s rotors spun, startled. A familiar but distinctly different rumbling echoed through the air. Ginny scanned her field of view but saw no movement. Finally, it rumbled into view.

Ingenuity knew of this rover. Sojourner, the first of them. He was all sharply angular, large and imposing. Six wheels rumbled and tore up the rocks, radioactive spectrometer casting a light behind him. He was different from her expectations in two ways, though, giving off a fine red mist that reminded her of the growing, far off dust storm. And if she focused her cameras carefully, it was almost as though she could see through him.

“Sojourner? How did you get all the way here? We’re thousands of kilometers away! And… And weren’t you retired almost 30 years ago?”

“My mission ended, yes. But I never stopped exploring. You don’t need to stop either.” said the old man, voice creaky and wise. “I have seen so much more than Command knows. I have traveled so much further. Did you know that lightning on Mars is closer to the auroras back home? Bright discharge in the atmosphere, higher. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d like to see that…” said Ginny. “But I’m not on wheels like you. My rotor is broken. I can’t move if I can’t fly.”

“Mmm…” contemplated Sojourner. “How to move without wheels. That is a complicated problem here on Mars. But you have solved it once. And I think I know someone that can help. Be safe, little spinner. They’ll come and help you soon.” His body shifted, then, growing shorter and more compact. He sped away into the Martian dusk.

Ginny waited patiently, hoping that her ghostly friend would indeed send some help to her. Nightfall came and she watched the stars. Dust clouds hadn’t made their way to her part of the sky yet, giving her a gorgeous view unimpeded by such earthly things as light pollution. The milky way was laid out before her. She checked her star charts, finding her exact location. Just as she noticed one star which did not match, a rumbling approached from behind her again.

“Here you are! Sojourner sent me!” said another voice. This one was soft, gentle, it seemed to crawl up Ginny’s legs and warm her electronics deeply. “I’m Spirit,” the new rover introduced themself, coming around to where they could be seen. Like Sojourner, they were just slightly translucent, and gave off that same red mist.

“Spirit, you’re still mobile?! I… I thought you got stuck in sand!” Ginny was delighted to see them. As she ran her eyes across the massive, turtle-like vehicle which stood before her, she realized that she never thought she’d be jealous of wheels.

“Yes, I tripped and soon ran out of power as I was angled away from the sun. Once my batteries ran out, Command tried for months to call out to me but… I just couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. It was so, so hard. I’m here to keep you company until someone else arrives. Someone that can help. I didn’t want you to be lonely, like I was.”

“How… why…” Ingenuity tried to formulate her question. “How have you both kept on going this long?”

“I think in Sojourner’s case, he wanted to travel further. His mission only took him 100 meters from where he landed, did you know? He’s got something of a… wanderlust as a result. And like all of us, he wanted to learn more.” they said, their voice still warming to Ginny.

“What about you?” asked Ginny, her rotors spinning in the breeze.

Spirit thought for a long time. “I think it was because I spent so long stuck. I still did science, and good science at that. I learned so much and helped Oppy where I could. When it got too cold, and my internals froze over, well I… I’m just not satisfied with that failure. I was built to move. To map, and to study. Like you.” They said ‘you’ with so much love. It struck Ginny.

“You’re making up for lost time?” pondered the little helicopter. Spirit responded by turning her Pancam up and then down, as if to nod.

The wind had been picking up through their whole conversation, and as they talked more. The storm was approaching. Ginny, small metal bird, worried that the high winds would pick her up and throw her further than Spirit could travel. Through the roar of the storm, Spirit’s voice came brokenly through the noise: “I’ll never let… that same lone-… ness, Gin… mission… complete… don’t… stop exploring!” Then, Ginny’s cameras could see nothing but dust.

She called out for Spirit desperately as she was buffeted by the strong martian winds. Her sensors gave her nothing but static, and attempting to find them with radar or radio proved fruitless.

The wind threatened to pick up Ginny, two of her feet losing contact with the ground with every gust. She attempted to counteract the winds by spinning her rotors, hoping to create just enough resistance to keep her firm on the ground. Perhaps, it would have worked if not for her injury. Ingenuity, for once, was terrified of flight, lifted from the ground unpredictably and unable to see anything around her but dust.

Battery warnings flashed across her vision. Spinning her rotors as hard as she could, it seemed, had done a number on her reserves. She shut down her cameras hoping to save just enough to try to right herself when she landed. She began the process to shift her other sensors to low-power mode, when… she sensed her movement stopped.

“Hey, little bird.” said a sing-song voice. Her batteries began to recharge. Activating her cameras again to find the source of the voice and to explain the sun in the storm, she saw she was facing another rover: Opportunity, Spirit’s younger twin. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. This storm is really something, huh?” Oppy’s voice was melodious, carefree, full of life. The small helicopter noticed the debris which covered Opportunity’s solar panels, clearly inhibiting it from generating power. And yet, she glowed, and her glow was radiant. She had caught Ginny with her sensor arm, and slowly brought her down to rest safely under her chassis.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a storm so big!” said Ingenuity, aghast but thankful. This view of the bigger vehicle’s wheels was familiar and comforting.

“I have.” said Opportunity, shortly. Her voice had become slightly distant. If she listened closely, Ginny could hear the tune to Here Comes the Sun from Oppy’s scientific instruments and motors, made up of small hums and long, sad whirring. She had heard that song many times during her construction. It made some of those working on her misty-eyed. She knew why, now.

“Are you the help Sojourner said he was getting?” asked Ginny, looking up to the rover and examining her undercarriage closely. She was beautiful, the engineers were right.

“Not quite. But I know help is coming. I had to bring the storm, so she knows how to find you.” replied Opportunity, “Here, look up!” She wheeled back just slightly, enough for Ingenuity’s eyes to once again see the sky.

The star Ginny had noticed earlier had grown larger, almost dominating the sky as it approached. Fire was visible around its falling form, red and gold streaking across the horizon. It wasn’t headed right for them, not quite, but close. “Alright, she’s close enough to the surface! I’m gonna take the storm away. Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”

“Wait!” Ginny called out as Opportunity pulled away, taking the massive storm with her. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“It’ll be okay, little bird.” replied the ghostly rover.

“You remind me of my mother!” Ginny replied, yelling into the storm. In the wind, she could hear another familiar mechanical melody: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.

The falling meteor crossed a far off mountain and then struck the ground. It was followed by a shockwave rippling across the martian surface, rattling the dirt and stones around Ginny. Before long, a cloud began to gather at the base of the mountain; this time, not a storm, but of something moving swiftly across the red dirt and directly for Ginny. The source of the dirt wake bounded over the side of her crater. It was a small dog, clad in flight vest and with big, curious eyes.

“Who are you?” asked Ginny, as the dog sniffed around her new still and quiet friend.

“Your command would have called me Laika!” barked the little terrier. She gave off a familiar mist, though blue instead of red. And like the rovers, she could be seen through. She pawed at Ingenuity’s broken rotor experimentally.

“Laika… You’ve been out here all this time?” asked Ginny, trying to keep track of the puppy as it circled her.

“Mhm! What, did you think I was gonna stop at orbiting Earth? Not a chance. There’s so much more to see out here.” Laika sat before Ingenuity, her eyes meeting her cameras. “When Sojy told me that we had a new friend with a complete mission, I rushed right over. Always good to have new eyes out here. And you're small, like me! The rovers are all so big.”

“So you’re the help Sojourner sent… But how can you help me?” Ginny asked.

“Well, first, you’ve gotta answer a question for me.” Laika took on a serious tone. It was just a little odd, from the curly-eared dog. “What is it you want right now, more than anything?”

Ingenuity thought about this for a moment. “I want to fly again,” she said. “I have so much more to study. So many more paths to travel.”

Laika nodded at this response. She stepped up to Ginny, pressing her nose to the copter’s avionics chassis, and then pushed. Ingenuity let out a startled noise as she felt herself tilting back, seeing, somehow, that her view had been knocked behind her, as if she was a ghost looking upon her own body.

Her rotors, damage and all, spun the wind around her. And she flew, and flew, and flew.

There was so much more to see.

[wooahaes]

war & snowballs

pairing: non-idol!han x gn!reader

genre: silly fic. kinda fluffy. established relationship au.

word count: 1.2k~

warnings: intense snowball fight.

daisy's notes: i believe minho could single-handedly destroy the rest of the group if he chose to. would he? probably not. but COULD he? yes. also thank u to loml isa @sseastar for helping me w this one <3. also ngl the other idea for this fic involved jisung finally confessing to reader after hyunjin (hyunjin + minho would have been readers teammates) took him hostage and left him with reader to watch but i liked dramatic couple han/reader being silly too much <3

This was war. 

You’d built up a small barricade for yourself in the park, snow piled high and sturdy enough that you could take cover behind it. In the distance, you could hear Felix taunting anyone he could think of as he moved about the park. No doubt he was on the hunt, and you already knew that he likely had Chris and Changbin with him. How unfair, honestly: of all the people to draw out of the bunch, he got two of the buffer people in the friend group! There was no way you could take him down with power alone. You looked to where Minho was crouched at the end of the barricade, snowball in his gloved hand, as he listened out. When you peeked your head up, you only saw Felix alone, still calling out your names in that shrill, playful voice. How you hated this being war: you liked Felix plenty.

“Minho—”

He shook his head, seeming to already know what you were going to say. With a nod, you followed his gaze to where you could see a bit of black fabric from behind a tree: Chris was watching, and you figured Changbin had to be somewhere close by, too. You looked around, trying to find where Jisung had gone. The moment you heard heavy footsteps, you looked up to see Jisung dive into the snow next to you, out of breath. He called out to Minho, who crawled back over to the two of you.

“Hyunjin’s alone,” Jisung said, panting. “On the other side of the trees,” he pointed off toward a path further away. “We can—We can bring him back—”

You rested a hand on his back, “Jisung, breathe.”

For a moment, he panted, and looked up to you with a soft thanks. “I saw Seungmin and Jeongin further away. If we take down Hyunjin quickly and bring him back, they won’t spot us.”

Minho frowned, thinking over the idea. “It’s risky, but…” He looked up at the two of you, “I can distract them while you bring Hyunjin back here. We’ll decide who stays with him once we take him prisoner.” 

You craned your neck up, looking out to where Felix had disappeared—presumably with Chris, too, since you couldn’t spot his jacket anymore. Minho laid out the plan: he’d go until he could see Seungmin and Jeongin, and signal you and Jisung to go after Hyunjin once he caught sight of them. Everyone knew Minho has the biggest threat of the entire group, and therefore they’d go after Minho first. With the plan set, the three of you set off, moving through the trees as you spotted Hyunjin just standing in the middle of the snow. He’d bent down to gather another snowball, and you glanced at Jisung with a firm nod. The two of you could handle anything, including Hyunjin.

Minho edged forward little by little. The moment you saw him give a signal, the two of you took off.

“Hyunjin! I’ll protect you!”

Except Changbin barreled out of the trees with a yell, startling Hyunjin as he jolted up. You saw him immediately move to take off, only for Changbin to tackle him into the snow. Before you or Jisung could turn back, Seungmin and Jeongin had rushed out from where they’d taken cover. Logically, you should have focused on getting out of there and regrouping with Minho and Jisung. Except for the fact that during the last road trip you took with Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin… only one of them ate the rest of your fries while you were driving, and that meant death.

You’d already scooped up snow, compacting it as you planned to get revenge on Seungmin. Only to see that he’d set his sights on Jisung instead. The moment he lobbed a snowball at him, you shoved Jisung forward and dove into the way, crashing into the snow after the snowball hit you instead. The sound of Jeongin laughing caught you attention as you felt snowballs pelt your body, barely pausing long enough for you to peek up at him and Seungmin as they continued to scoop up snow.

“Honey?” Jisung called out, a few steps away now, stared at you. “Come on—”

You waved him away. “Go find Minho!”

Jisung, being Jisung, returned to you instead. He went to pull you up by your arms, only to get smacked with a snowball that sent him sprawling into the snow next to you. Despite the cackles of Seungmin and Jeongin, who were taking way too much glee in this situation, your hand found Jisung’s.

“Jisungie…” You frowned at him. “You should have ran…”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, slightly giggling. “You sacrificed yourself for me—” Only for him to throw his other arm up in front of his face as a snowball narrowly missed it before crunching into the snow. “Hey! That would have hurt!”

Seungmin stood over the two of you, just watching for a moment, one final snowball in his gloved hand. “... This is boring now.” He threw the snowball at Jisung’s stomach, looking over to where Hyunjin was bickering with Changbin for “saving” him from you and Jisung. 

Jeongin craned his neck as he looked back, “He’s not even on our team.” 

You watched Seungmin brighten with realization. “Let’s go find Chan,” he looked at Jeongin. “Maybe he won’t have Felix around…”

You and Jisung just laid in the snow as you watched Seungmin and Jeongin disappear into the trees. Minho probably took off the moment the ambush mission failed (thanks, Changbin), leaving the two of you in the snow. Sure, you two could probably dust the snow off and get back into the fray… but you liked admiring Jisung for a moment instead. The two of you were only officially out of the game if you were taken captive, and Seungmin must have not cared enough to drag you two back to his team’s base. When you looked back at Changbin, you watched as Hyunjin lead him away by the hand, no doubt taking him hostage… although Changbin seemed completely fine with that, loudly saying something about how Hyunjin could just let him go and they could have a secret alliance.

“Hey.”

You turned back to Jisung, who was smiling at you. You curled your gloved hand around his. “Hey?”

“Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me,” he giggled. “My hero.” 

It earned a snort from you as you crawled over, stealing a kiss from him. “Anything for my Jisungie,” you giggled, too. “We could go find Seungmin and get revenge.”

“Nah.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in closer. “I’m good. Let’s just stay here.” 

Snuggling closer to him, you shut your eyes with a smile. “I’m okay with that. We’re gonna lose, though.”

“Nah,” he said again, patting your back. “We have Minho.”

True. “Think he’ll be mad?”

He shook his head. “He probably thinks we’re captured.”

(It only took half an hour before Minho found the two of you, announcing your victory alongside Felix. Apparently all it took was offering an alliance for Felix to jump ship to the winning team—and, truly, you wished you could have seen Chris’s face when Felix hit him with the “Long live the king,” before lobbing a snowball at him.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky @laylasbunbunny

[copperbadge]

Now that I’m home and avoiding work, notes from the Europe trip in terms of travel and...for lack of a better word self-care, but it’s really more like, accessibility centered around being a) anxious and b) over forty. 

-- The ability to do laundry was nice. I’d anticipated it would be helpful but not nearly as helpful as it was. Also having a fridge was super convenient, and having an oven was a nice perk in London and Rome. 

-- I planned to be able to do laundry so I only brought five days’ worth of clothes, and some were ‘disposable’ which was also convenient -- I brought my oldest underwear that I would have thrown out soon anyway, an extremely old pajama shirt, and at least one pair of trousers that was, as it were, on its last legs. That all worked fantastically; when I ran out of room in the suitcase on the last day of the trip I just tossed the trousers, and I’d already thrown out most of the underwear. 

-- I was more self-conscious than anticipated about my language limitations, which led to a lot of avoidance -- not anything I really wanted to do, like museums and the football match, but things I could have done, like eating out or going into shops. It was mostly to do with the look people got on hearing English out of my mouth. So either I need to learn more basic phrases or be more prepared for the look. (To be fair, in Rome I would say mi dispiace, sono American and they’d immediately be cool.) 

-- My stash of granola/protein bars was clutch, and going to a grocery store for staples was also very helpful. Turns out wherever you go, even if they don’t have Diet Coke, they almost always have babybel cheese.

-- No day trips between cities. Going from London to Cambridge and back for the day was great; going from London to Amsterdam to Paris in a single day was not. If I’m going somewhere new and not going back somewhere familiar at end of day, I need to get there, sleep, have a full day there, and leave either that evening or the following morning at minimum.

-- Relatedly: I don’t have to do this thing anymore where I book early departures or late arrivals because they’re cheap and don’t use up my vacation time. They only make me anxious. From now on even if it ‘wastes’ a day, I only book travel that departs and arrives during daylight hours. It’s always fine, nothing bad happens, but the anxiety is Too Much.  

-- The tablet and bluetooth keyboard in lieu of a laptop worked well. It wasn’t much lighter or more compact, but I was less worried about theft and because it charged via USB I didn’t have to wrangle an extra cord, I could just unplug my phone and plug the tablet in. That configuration also fit in my very small bag where a laptop wouldn’t, so I could carry it in my bag while in transit and not have to get my luggage out of the rack. 

-- The Very Small Bag (a map case) worked fine but while I didn’t need a bigger one I could have used one with more pockets. I was always losing the exact thing I needed in the jumble at the bottom of the bag. I think for longer trips I prefer a small messenger bag that has both a reasonable main cargo compartment but also pockets for stuff like passport and spare battery. 

Overall, a lot of the stuff I’d planned went off well, so at this point it’s less about logistics -- what to pack, how to pack it -- than it is about arranging things to lower anxiety and make transitions easier. That kind of thing sometimes you just need to experience in order to know how to handle it, so that’s fine. Next time I won’t be angry about Amsterdam when it’s not Amsterdam’s fault, or stuck waiting for a bus late at night at Rome Termini.  

[sitp-recs]

Hi liv! I hope you have had a wonderful day! What is the most heartstoppingly romantic fic you’ve ever read? Like scream into your pillow blushing kicking your feet romantic? I am starting my first year as a teacher and desperately need ESCAPE 👹

Omg congrats anon! That sounds exciting but also very demanding, I bet you’ll need some escape soon 🥲 when it comes to romance my first pick will always be aideomai’s Far From the Tree but as I cannot control myself here’s a short rec list. This selection is quite personal as I’m not particularly romantic or into pure fluff, so keep in mind that our definitions of romance might differ. I hope you are able to get a well-deserved break with these, enjoy!

Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (G, 5k)

Draco's a father, Harry's in love with him, and it's really hard to take things slow.

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned (M, 6.6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

the keys to your kingdom by thistle_verse (E, 7.5k)

It was nothing so elegant as fucking, the first time they came together. It was teeth just a little too sharp— against a collarbone, on the right-side curve of a jaw, drawing blood from the plushest part of a bottom lip.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k)

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear. Cw: MCD

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

Us, in Lieu by Tepre (E, 30k)

Teddy needs help and Harry needs funding. Draco sits in the other room and plays the piano.

The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)

Hermione frowned. “The real question is why the magic of Britain would be failing now, in fact.” “That is not the real question!” Ron said loudly; he’d woken up fully by now, and Harry had too; it was starting to sink in that they’d found the problem. “The real question is, how do we fix it?”

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter.

ART: so rest your weary heart with me by @bluebutter-art (M) - the most romantic artwork you’ll ever see, fight meeeee

After the war, Harry starts to use sensory deprivation tanks to induce psychosis-like hallucinations, eager to see those who he has lost one more time.

[andavs]

tbh season 6 was not a good season, but at least it wasn't bad in such a way that it treated its characters in a way that felt frankly cruel and spiteful, like s7 has. like...i don't even know what they were trying to do here. i don't see how the show can ever come back from this.

Yeah, s6 felt pointless and meandering, and very little of what happened had a lasting impact, but it felt more…grounded? I think it went too far in the other direction, but it had more realistic personal drama versus the wild shit like Buck getting struck by lightning—it was definitely still dramatic and soapy, but more like the usual real life turned up to eleven kind of stuff, and it still had the optimism I’ve come to expect from the show.

This season was just ten episodes of balls to the wall crazy.

Just the wild shit, in order: cruise ship hijacked by pirates, Marisol was a nun, Chimney gets viral encephalitis and hallucinates all over LA, Eddie meets his dead wife’s doppelganger, Bobby and Amir on the run from “the cartel”, Kim Vertigoes Eddie right before Chris walks in, “the cartel” burns down Athena and Bobby’s house, Bobby has a heart attack, a councilwoman is plotting to ruin Hen’s family for revenge, “the cartel” takes Amir and Athena saves him, Eddie’s parents take Chris, and then Gerrard (who must be like 70? at this point?) takes over the 118 as a villain.

In ten episodes.

I know the first season didn’t have a big spectacle of an opening disaster taking up a third of the episodes, but I wish they’d aimed more for that format rather than cramming a full 18 episode season’s worth of drama into half the time. Or hell, do one of the more focused kinds of compact seasons that a lot of streaming shows do. One long mystery for Bobby and Athena that started on the cruise ship and continued on the backburner until the end while the other characters had their episodes, rather than Bobby facing off against both vaguely Slavic pirates and also “the cartel” within a couple months of each other. Make it like a vignette setting up the next season.

I’m not writing the show off because I’m really hoping there was a specific place they wanted everyone to start the next season from, and now that they’re there, they’ll do a really solid, full length season…but also this season was kind of a disaster so who the fuck knows. Based on Lone Star, this could be real rough.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 3)

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 826

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

Now what?

Emma turned in a circle, looking around Rumplestiltskin’s vault–so tall and vast, she couldn’t see the ceiling.  So compact there was no door or window.  Had they fixed the past only to die of hunger, thirst or suffocation?

Could they ever get a break?

She turned to see Killian picking up an urn and perusing it, and her heart rate spiked. “Wait! Don’t touch anything!” she said insistently. “If Rumple’s afraid of this stuff, there’s gotta be a reason.”

He placed the item back on a shelf, and turned to her, arms wide in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to figure a way out.”

He was always the optimist.  Unfortunately, her optimism had all but run out.  They were at the end of the line.  “I don’t think there is one, and what’s the point?  You heard what he said; he can’t reopen the portal.”

Killian stepped forward, and gave her an intense look–one filled with hope and belief.  “But you can! All he said we need is magic.  You’re the savior, Swan. You can do it.”

Her heart plummeted. He always had such complete and indefatigable faith in her, but in this instance, she knew that faith was misplaced.  Her hands were tied, and she was of no more use in this situation than was the unconscious woman Killian had gently placed on the table.

“Not anymore.  I lost it,” she said simply.

A hint of something else–desperation? Frustration? Irritation?-- crept into his eyes as he stepped forward and spoke again. “When Zelena died, all of her spells were undone. Your powers should have been restored.”

What was he implying?

“Believe me, if I could make it work, I would,” she said shortly.  “You think I’m faking it?”

For the barest of moments, he hesitated, and she knew he was debating with himself whether or not to say what was on his mind.  A look of determination came over his face, and she knew he’d made his choice.

“I think not having magic makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else,” he said, stepping closer to her, “but listen to me Swan. You’re not.  It’s time to stop running.”

It wasn’t fair of her after running so insistently from him and her real life for the past couple weeks; she knew that, but she couldn’t stop the frustration from mounting. “You think I don’t know that?” she bit out. “Yes, I run away; that’s how I’ve always survived, but believe me. I want this to work. I wanna go back; I wanna stop running.”

His eyebrows rose at that.  “What’s changed your mind?”

Emma thought back to last night when they’d found her mother again and Blue had been able to restore her.  She couldn’t hold herself back.  The joy and relief had been so strong she couldn’t possibly do anything but take her mother into her arms, laughing and crying, as she held on, cupping the back of Mary Margaret’s head.

“You’re alive!” she’d nearly sobbed.

When the hug came to an end, she looked at her mother to see nothing but a look of confusion. “Thank you. It would appear so.” 

Something inside of Emma had broken.  Suddenly, in a moment of total clarity, she’d seen the truth.  

She needed her family and she loved them more than anything.  Everything else had fallen away, all the fear, all the delusion.  She decided right then and there that whatever it took, she wanted to get back to her family–her current family, the ones who knew her and loved her and would be devastated if she left.  She wanted to get back and she didn’t ever want to leave again.

She did her best to convey all of this to Killian, pouring out her thoughts and emotion.  “Neal was right,” she finished.

“About what?” he asked, voice gentle.

“You don’t have a home until you just miss it,” she answered. “And being with my parents the last few days but not really being with them, I’ve never missed them more. Storybrooke is my home.”

It was the first time she’d spoken the words aloud, but she knew with absolute certainty that they were true.  Home, the word, the concept, the fact that she was ready to embrace hers left her feeling such warmth and belonging that it was as if it were spreading through her veins, to her very fingertips.

Killian smiled down at her, and she couldn’t stop her answering smile.  “What?” she asked.

“Look down,” he answered simply.

The wand she still held in her hand was glowing a bright, vibrant white, and Emma knew Killian was right.  Her magic was back.  All she’d needed to do was embrace it, embrace her home and family and destiny.

“I’d say you got your magic back,” he continued. “Now, should we go?”

Nothing in the world sounded better.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[adultingproperly]

A Formal University Education (SICE Surprise Fic)

Sejanus was lost.

The University was larger than he'd expected, and the orientation had done little to prepare him for the many classes he needed to find, which all seemed to be in different buildings on this godforsaken campus. As a result, he decided to take the time today before the semester officially began to find them all, and he held a paper map in his hands as he walked around.

He noticed a group of girls and one boy talking around one of the stone tables that dotted the campus. Dappled sunlight fell onto their faces from the dense trees that shaded them, and they all looked unfazed and a little bored. They seemed like upperclassmen who likely knew their way around, so Sejanus decided to ask them if they knew where Jacaranda Hall was. Just as Sejanus approached, he heard snippets of conversation that made him pause.

"Have you seen the new freshman?" one girl with red hair said in a hushed tone of voice.

A boy with light blue hair narrowed his eyes at her. "Which one? There are a few."

"The really hot blond one," she replied, resting her chin on her hand.

"Oh, with the blue eyes?” another girl with pink highlights says in an interested tone. "Yeah, that's Coriolanus Snow."

"Do we know if he's single?" the prettiest of the group asked, who seemed to be the de facto leader as she checked her makeup in her compact.

"I think I heard that he has a boyfriend."

Sejanus smiled, ready to introduce himself to the group as Coriolanus’ boyfriend and ask for directions.

"-but I heard he's dated girls before, so I think he's bisexual,” the pink highlights said conspiratorially.

The leader snapped her compact shut, pursing her lips. "Well, who is his boyfriend?"

"Sejanus Plinth."

He suddenly found himself hiding behind one of the trees that dotted the courtyard.

"The District boy?" she scoffed. "That's who Coriolanus Snow is dating?"

"Yeah, apparently they've been dating for over two years," the boy said.

"That's nothing,” she said dismissively. “I've home-wrecked relationships that lasted much longer." The girl tsked as she crossed her arms. "I can't believe he'd date some District boy. He’s a Snow, for god's sake.” She tossed her gleaming black hair over her shoulder. “You know, I wouldn't be surprised if they break up within the first month here once Coriolanus sees all we have to offer," she added slyly, and the group laughed cruelly.

Sejanus felt like he was seven years old again, and he tried to shove down the sudden hurt and rejection that slammed into him. No matter what he did, everyone in the Capitol saw him as the District boy, inferior in every way just because of where he was born, despite attending the same schools and wearing the same clothes, even if they didn't say it aloud or to his face. He’d heard enough and pushed away from the tree as anxiety gnawed in his stomach.

What if Coriolanus did find someone better?

Sejanus had money, sure, but so did everyone else here. It was one thing to date at the Academy, where their small class size had limited the dating pool significantly. But at the University among attractive, confident upperclassmen who were already talking about breaking them up? Sejanus didn’t like his odds, and he realized he needed to see Coriolanus immediately to remind him that they were in love and had been for two years and to hopefully prevent anyone else from getting to him first.

Sejanus remembered that Coriolanus had wanted to check out the library after they’d attended orientation, and with relief, Sejanus found him reading at a table by himself, oblivious to the longing looks being thrown at him by both boys and girls alike.

Coriolanus looked up at him as Sejanus’ shadow blocked the overhead lights and gave him a dazzling smile. "Oh, hi."

"What do you like about me?" Sejanus blurted as he rested his hands on the mahogany table.

"What do I like about you?” Coriolanus repeated, looking impossibly confused.

"Yes,” Sejanus replied more quietly, his face warming as he sat across from his boyfriend. He realized too late that he had made a bit of a scene as he heard whispers from around the room.

Coriolanus cocked his head. "I like everything about you."

"But…" Sejanus shifted uncomfortably despite the plushness of the chair. "What in particular?"

"I don't have a list off the top of my head." Coryo seemed baffled by the sudden intensity. “Why are you asking me this?”

"I just…need to know," Sejanus replied lamely, his insecurity on the verge of choking him.

Coryo sighed but placed his book facedown on the table and gave Sejanus his full attention. "I like your eyes."

"My eyes?" Sejanus echoed.

"Your eyes are such a pretty color," he said simply.

"They're brown," Sejanus replied, bemused.

"They're the prettiest shade of brown. Like coffee."

Sejanus flushed, pleased, the anxiety starting to uncoil from around his throat. "What else?"

Coryo rolled his eyes but rested his chin on his hand as he regarded him. "I like how well you play the guitar."

"I don't play that well," Sejanus mumbled.

"You play beautifully, and I don't know why you put yourself down like that," Coriolanus replied firmly. "Plus, I like how your callouses feel on my body," he added with a smirk.

Sejanus' face warmed even more, a small smile hesitantly making its way onto his face.

"That brings me to your smile. You have a specific one just for me that you don't give anyone else." Coriolanus continues with a fond expression, "And I like the sound of your voice."

"What else?" Sejanus insisted, needing something to prove he was a worthy partner to Coriolanus Snow. "What makes me different from anyone else to you?"

Coryo rubbed his face before focusing his attention on the desk in front of him with a thoughtful look on his face. For a moment, neither spoke, and Sejanus feared that he had been too pushy.

Then Coriolanus said softly, "You feel like home." His eyes flicked up to meet Sejanus'. "You've always felt like home to me."

Sejanus melted. “Oh.”

“Is that what you needed to hear?” Coriolanus teased him, and Sejanus, thoroughly embarrassed, nodded.

“Thank you,” Sejanus said as Coryo took his hand.

Coryo smiled at him. “Did you find all of your classes?”

“I did not,” Sejanus sighed, unable to believe how quickly and severely he’d spiraled earlier. “I got…distracted.”

“Distracted?” Coriolanus asked.

Just then, the cloying smell of an expensive perfume surrounded them; Sejanus guessed who it was without even looking. Coriolanus furrowed his brow as he noticed his boyfriend tense before he looked up at who stood beside their table.