#but do i just have to go on a murder spree for the last one???

[muffinrag]

girls what the FUCK is day 10. wake up at 2pm after being beat half to death in the abbatoir. there are already 5 letters in my inbox. this fucking 12 year old wants me to kill army men and steal their rifles???

[street-corner-felines]

Zero Day Director commentary - With actor Andre Keuck

[shomatoriashi]

7/30/24: 11:15am

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ request - oneshot }

- the academy arc -

@nyashykyunnie asked: KYUNNIE COMING IN CLUTCH AND SHALL DO A REQ BECAUSE BLESS UR SOUL FOR LETTING ME DO A REQ!!! MWAHHHHH!!! Hmo... Childhood friend reader x Jinwoo who went back in time >;3. He was always the chill typea boy best friend but ever since bby had puberty and became tall n hot he suddenly became... A little more posessive hehehehehehe. And what Jinwoo doesnt know is reader is secretly transmigrated and was his biggest fangirl for a long time and instead of being scared of Yandere!Woo they giggle at his murderous spree when she discovers that woowoo is going yandere over her heheheh Otherwise, go crazy bby>:3

warnings: unedited; petty bullying; violence; blood mention; gore; body horror; possessive and obsessive behavior

disclaimers: i do not condone such behaviors in real life; since this is purely a work of fiction, anything goes and i am willing to portray this creatively in the best way possible.

you are 5 years old, and your parents just moved into a quaint apartment complex. they were excited to be able to live in a space that they could call their own while surrounded by friendly neighbors.

as you busied yourself with your sketchbook, drawing ocean waves with colorful fishes swimming in them with your crayons, you heard a knock at the door. your ears perk up at the sound, and just as you were about to answer it, your father stops you with a stern expression. he calls out your name before gently reminding you, “what did papa tell you about opening doors? you should always let your mama or papa answer first, okay?”

you twist at the strands of your hair while pouting at him, giving your father a hesitant nod before following him to the front door. you hid your face behind the back of your father’s legs, eyes peeking curiously forward the moment he unlocks the door.

settled directly before you was a family that seemed to tower over you. you saw what looked like a tall young man and woman greeting your dad with kind smiles. in the woman’s arms was a baby wrapped in blankets, but what perhaps caught your attention was a little boy that hid himself behind his mother’s legs.

with your fascination growing with each second that passes, you slowly move away from your father’s legs while the little boy does the same. his grey eyes seemed to take you in, the blush dyeing his pale cheeks a rosier hue as the woman gently calls out to him, “jinwoo, go on and talk to her. she’s the same age as you, and i’m sure you’ll have fun.”

with his mother’s permission, the boy (jinwoo, it’s such a nice name), gives her a nod before standing before you, taking a hold of your hand. “wanna play together?”

you give him an eager nod, leading him to the floor of your living room as you showed him your sketchpad and the various drawings you had. as you turned the pad to a fresh page, you shyly offer your crayons to jinwoo, asking him if he’d like to draw anything. he gives you a smile while eagerly nodding at you.

and just a few moments later, when your father and jinwoo’s parents enter your home, they would see two giggling kids drawing while laying flat on their stomachs, basking in their imaginations all while knowing that this was a friendship that would last a lifetime-

you and jinwoo would become inseparable ever since that fateful day.

{ … }

days go by, quickly turning into weeks as the weeks slowly morphed into months while the months carried the ever changing seasons leading up to the new year-

and you found yourself here, 10 years later, ready to begin your first year of high school. you look at your reflection, adjusting the ribbon settled on your collar while brushing back your hair. you had plans of leaving your apartment 15 minutes ago-

however, jinwoo specifically told you to wait for him; that he was the one that would walk you to and from school as an extra means of protection (whatever that meant.) as you look at your clock settled on your desk, seeing how close it was to being 8am, you let out a huff and began marching out of your room-

only for your face to come into contact with a hard wall of muscle, earning a gasp from you. massaging at the slight ache felt against your nose, you look up to see jinwoo smiling down at you, already standing at nearly 6 feet despite only being 15 years old. a smirk graces his features when you feel him playfully flick at your nose, “ready to head to school?”

you grumble when he teases you, ready to walk ahead of him when he wraps his arms around your waist. he keeps you close to him, making your eyes go wide when he walks out of the apartment with you. he sees your mother doing the dishes and announces your departure, earning a knowing smile from her, “have a good day at school you two!”

before you could answer, jinwoo closes the door, a strange, dark look crossing over his expression as you trembled a bit in response. he shoves a hand in his pocket, using his other hand to hold onto yours as he interlocks them together. you take note of his expression and ask, “are you okay? you seem… upset.”

his expression immediately changes, eyes going back to its normal hue of grey when he looks back at you all while playfully ruffling your hair. “i’m fine, no need to worry your pretty little head over me.”

jinwoo then proceeds to annoy you, making kissy faces at you as he tries to get closer to you. you end up laughing while struggling to maintain your balance on the sidewalk, noticing how he still kept his gloved hand hidden within the pockets of his coat. admittedly, you had some anxiety pertaining to your first day of high school, yet with jinwoo’s constant teasing and jokes, you felt yourself becoming more comfortable as time passed.

arriving at your high school, jinwoo remains close to you, standing in the midst of a crowd of student while interlocking his fingertips with yours. as you stood together, ready to enter the school and start your day, you became achingly aware of several girls excited whispers. from your periphery, you notice the way they point their perfectly manicured nails at him.

“hey, he’s cute…”

“and so tall too…”

“ugh, why is he with such a plain girl though? don’t tell me they’re dating?!”

“no way! i’m sure she’s his pathetic best friend or something! hehe, i bet she gets friendzoned by him all the time.”

you purse your lips at the sounds of their giggles and harsh words, yet jinwoo squeezes your hand in yet another reassuring manner, moving slightly forward to block your view of them. you give him a grateful smile, seeing jinwoo meet your gaze before giving you a wink.

when the bell rings, you and jinwoo both enter the school together, ready to begin your first day. despite being in different classes, jinwoo was adamant in walking you to your class, frowning all the way. as you stand in front of the classroom, jinwoo places a hand on your shoulders, eyes seemingly glowing when he tells you, “if anyone dares give you any trouble at all, you tell me, okay?”

you giggle and awkwardly shuffle your feet from side to side, “i think i’ll be alright, jinwoo… but, thank you for your concern.”

he returns your smile with a strained one, ready to head back to his own class as he never once looked away from you. only when he disappears into the corner of the hallway did you let out a shaky breath.

surely, you had nothing to worry about, right?

you were bound to have a completely normal day at school, right…?

{ … }

and oh, how wrong your assumptions were!

you had barely finished the day, ready to meet jinwoo for lunch when your exit was blocked off by another student. she was a haughty girl that wore an expensive, ruby pendant that was shaped in a delicate rose while hanging by a thin, golden chain. it was clear that her family had money, as she was dressed in all the accessories and clothes that seemed to accentuate the beauty of her silvery blonde hair and startling green eyes-

a beauty that was used to getting what she wanted-

and a girl that shared your class.

you didn’t bother to know or even recall her name, since all she did was increase your anxieties with her mere presence alone.

“i see you walk into school today with what has to be the hottest guy in our class. so what’s a mousy little thing like you doing with a gorgeous guy like him?”

bile was felt rising up the confines of your throat as you held your sketchbook closer to your chest. the girl sneers at you, already reaching out a hand to snatch away at your sketchbook. you gasp, trying to get it back from her as you felt the tears dot your vision. “please, give that back! that sketchbook means a lot to me!”

buried within those pages were various sketches and stories that you and jinwoo shared, and if she were to ruin them, then all would be lost to you. you watch as her green eyes flash with malicious intent, already opening up your sketchbook as she idly flipped through the pages with a bored expression on her face.

it was when she flips to a random page that she sees the various sketches of jinwoo you had kept, her smile suddenly widening as she tore off the page and folded it, placing it within the confines of her pocket. “now this i can keep. as for the rest…”

her feign sigh of reluctance was all you could hear when she began ripping the rest of the pages out of your sketchbook, tearing up the pages into as many tiny shreds her hands could handle before tossing them up into the air, allowing the torn pages to fall like flower petals in the wind.

by now, your tears blinded you, making you fall to your knees as your heart broke with each torn page that lands on the ground. your breathing became uneven as the girl lets out a tiny “oops!” in response, finally walking away from you while tossing aside her silky hair.

you had no idea how much time you spent gathering the pages in the empty hallway, already knowing that lunch was nearing its end. as you were so focused on picking up the torn pieces of your sketchbook, you were unaware of heavy footsteps approaching you, calling out your name.

“hey, what are you doing? lunch is almost over-“

upon recognizing jinwoo’s voice, you allow your teary eyes to meet with his gaze, seeing them darken before flashing purple. “who did this to you?”

he ignores the ruined sketchbook and focuses his attention on you. picking up your shivering form, jinwoo places your face against his chest, allowing the front of his jacket to soak up all of your tears. several seconds pass when you were finally able to tell him what had happened. “it’s just… i-i wanted to meet you, b-but a girl in my class stopped me from going to you. s-she was mad that i was with you this morning and… she… she tore up my sketchbook while keeping my sketch of you.”

jinwoo’s hands stopped threading through your hair when he lowly asks, “who is she? what’s her name?”

you tremble upon hearing the dark tone of his voice and admit with a shaky sigh, “i don’t know her name… i just know that she’s pretty, with silvery hair and green eyes.”

jinwoo hums at this new information, keeping your face pressed against his chest to hide his expression of sheer rage from you.

soon, you wouldn’t have to deal with such trash like this ever again.

{ … }

you had filled 240 total pages inside of your precious sketchbook-

(jinwoo knew this since he was the one who religiously asked to see each drawing, read each story, painted within those pages)

and for all those 240 pages that had been so callously ripped out from your sketchbook, he had cut park yeon a total of 240 times with his daggers.

it was easy to lure her to him after school. jinwoo had made up an excuse to you about needing to talk to the coach and sign up for track, reassuring you to go home first and that he’ll text you later. with you out of sight and in the safety of your home, he then works on luring yeon to him.

her green eyes were blazing with a possessive hunger for him, following him with little question to the back of the school. he recalls the way yeon fuels his rage by telling him how she was made for him; how she was all he could ever need.

needless to say, she didn’t get a chance to speak further the moment jinwoo slices through her throat, cutting off her vocal cords as he began his revenge on her.

the night air was thick with the scent of blood when he looks down at the girl’s now lifeless body. his glowing eyes manages to dim down, his anger and fury now dying down to a simmer of annoyance as he now had a body to deal with. before he calls upon his soldiers to take care of the evidence, jinwoo’s eyes take sight of the glittering, rose pendant hanging loosely from the girl’s neck, a smirk gracing his features when he leans down to carefully release its clasps from her neck as he held the gorgeously crafted necklace within the palm of his hand.

{ … }

park yeon was not in class this morning, and you briefly wondered what had happened to her-

yet perhaps more-so than that was jinwoo’s sudden absence as well. feeling more concerned about your best friend, you recall how this morning, jinwoo’s mother had told you he had already gone to class, having an early meeting with the track team-

yet when you tried searching for him, he was nowhere to be found.

you check back on your phone when you ultimately decided to make your trek back to class, seeing no reply from jinwoo. letting out a sigh, you enter class and sit at your desk. as you worked on getting out your notebook from your desk was when you felt something cold against the palm of your hand.

your eyebrows were furrowed when you manage to pull out whatever lay deep within the confines of your desk-

only to see a ruby rose pendant covered in dried flecks of blood.

your mouth goes dry at the sight, making you swallow thickly before a wide grin paints your features.

sheer giggles of delight were heard coming from your parted lips as you held in your hand the same pendant that bitch had flaunted when she tore apart your sketchbook. grateful that no one was around, you continued to laugh, never once stopping as you cradled the necklace close to your chest.

jinwoo had done something about it after all!

and you couldn’t have been happier.

of course, you knew about him and his deepest secret.

you knew that he was the shadow monarch and had somehow reversed time to save the world-

you knew of how the two years he went missing was to take on the monarchs by himself-

and you knew that you had his heart within the very palms of your hand, for he had held yours since the very beginning.

back when you were a mere civilian and he had saved you from beasts that escaped the gates-

back when all you could see was himhimhimhim!

and now, that same man was all yours; with fate somehow placing you within his life the moment your parents had moved into the same apartment complex he had lived in all those years ago…

and now, he would never leave your side so long as you played your cards right.

forcing yourself to calm down, you adjust your blouse and put on the necklace, allowing the blood stained rose to settle against your collarbone as you hid the pendant with the fabric of your blouse. once it was all buttoned up, you adjust your blazer and smiled innocently at your classmates that started to walk in while your phone was felt vibrating against your desk. sliding open the screen, you smile when you saw a text from him:

[ my monarch 👑: sorry i wasn’t able to walk you to school today, i wanted my gift to you to be perfect. let’s meet up for lunch later, and i’ll give you a brand new, leather bound sketchbook to make up for the one you lost :) ]

[ you: that’s okay, my love! i look forward to seeing you again. thank you for the gift, i love you ♡ ]

[ my monarch 👑: i love you, too. always. ]

smiling at your phone’s screen, you give jinwoo’s profile picture a light kiss, all too eager to see him again when you dutifully turned your gaze forward and began taking notes, doing your best to hide your smirk when your teacher questions park yeon’s absence.

end notes: this feels like the most, true to genre yandere story i have ever written and i am so sorry for this, especially if it’s not my best work 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[yandere-daze]

I´ve had this idea plague my mind for the last few days and now it´s finally time for me to unleash it onto the world. Feel free to comment on or ask questions about this idea/ AU if you find it interesting!

This work was inspired by the normalized yandere genshin AU I stumbled upon while scrolling through Tumblr, created by @fancyfeathers

Hope you enjoy!

gn reader

2,2k words

tw yandere, normalized yandere behaviour, mentions of obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, murder, emotional manipulation and isolation

Yandere! Genshin Academy/Normalized Yandere AU

In this AU, yanderes are a normal and accepted part of society. Not only are their toxic attitudes and behaviours permitted but even encouraged. Somehow, over the years, people have even started to wish for a yandere as their partners. By Teyvat society at large, yanderes are seen as somewhat of an ideal partner. They´re fiercely loyal and would do absolutely anything for their darlings, right?

And yet, many darlings sing a different tune when reality suddenly comes crashing down onto them when a yandere actually starts pursuing them. Fantasizing about things such as being kidnapped is simply something entirely different compared to experiencing the real thing. And yet, when they call out for help from their loved ones, they´re simply patted on their back and congratulated. Some might even express their condolences to the poor yandere, saying that it always takes a bit of time for a darling to realize that this is for the best.

You are one of the few people who are completely horrified by the concept of a yandere and even more so to see everyone around you treat kidnappings or murder sprees as something completely normal or even romantic. You shudder at the thought of ever attracting the attention of a yandere, knowing that you would have no one to help you avoid that dreadful fate.

Which is why your complete world is turned upside down when you´ve been registered at the wrong academy by mistake. An administrative error, you were told. One, that might take a few weeks or even months to correct.

Now normally, you would have been annoyed but fine with this. You would just have to bear with it for a bit and attend a different school until the error is fixed and you can finally go to your desired one.

But you felt a pool of dread form deep within you when you did some research on the academy you had been wrongly assigned to. It actually wasn´t all that easy to find information on the academy, which you found strange, seeing as this has never been an issue with any other well-regarded academy. But no matter how much you search, nothing concrete is to be found. Only a few abandoned forum posts where people asked around about their missing friend who had last been seen close to the academy in question.

It made you feel a bit uneasy but you figured that it probably didn´t have anything to do with the academy itself. As sad as it was, disappearances were happening all over Teyvat, so this one case wasn´t really of note.

But seeing as you couldn´t find anything else, you figured that you would just need to figure things out on your first day attending the academy.

And oh, were you in for a nasty surprise.

As soon as you sat down for your first lesson, you noticed how strange the atmosphere was. Everyone had been staring at you so strangely when you entered the room, it kind of unnerved you.

After that, a few introductions were exchanged and you slowly calmed down again. Your classmates seemed nice enough and you thought that maybe, your time here wouldn´t be so bad after all.

All that quickly changed when your professor finally entered the room and introduced himself as the instructor who would teach you the subject of "stalking".

Turning your head left and right, you tried to see if anyone else was as shocked about this as you were but to your surprise, no one even raised an eyebrow at this very concerning introduction.

A class on stalking? Maybe this wasn´t what you actually feared and more so a clumsy way of saying that this would be a psychology class focusing on the mental effects stalking has on the victims? With all these yanderes running around unchecked, there were bound to be many victims and so a class like this might actually be beneficiary. I mean surely they wouldn´t actually try to teach young adults how to kidnap someone, right?

Right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong when the professor started outlining different forms of stalking. Following "your darling" around, stalking them online, placing cameras or microphones in their rooms to observe them anytime you wanted.

Your mind was spiraling as you listened to the lecture and you briefly wondered at just what kind of an academy you had been enlisted in. Surely this must be some kind of joke, right? A prank played on newcomers at the academy to get them spooked? Surely someone is going to come in any moment, clear all of this up and then laugh at you actually falling for this?

But no matter how much you hoped for this to be the case, no one was coming. No one was making fun of you for falling for such an obvious prank. In fact, none of your classmates seemed perturbed at all by what was being taught here. How could they be okay with a lesson that basically amounted to "how to stalk someone 101"? You felt like you were losing your mind.

Glancing to your right, you see your blond deskmate eagerly nodding along to whatever the professor was saying and swiftly taking notes whenever a sentence seemed to particularly strike a chord with him. His red eyes practically sparkled as he outlined "helpful tips and tricks for not alerting your darling of your presence" on his paper, using a text marker to highlight a particular passage as if to say that it would come in handy in the future.

On your left, you saw another tall male student and for a moment you hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else here who was bothered by the lecture given. He had a bored look on his face and he was wearing some type of headphones over his grey hair. Was he even paying attention? Maybe he was trying to cancel out the horrific lecture taking place at the moment.

You discreetly leaned over a bit, only to see that he was actually holding a book hidden under the desk, his eyes carefully following the paragraphs of tiny letters. Well, it seems like he certainly wasn´t paying much attention to the lecture because what he was secretly reading seemed to be some advanced material on the success rate of different methods of stalking, from the looks of it.

You quickly turned your head back when you saw him glancing over at you with an unreadable stare. Well, it looks like your hopes were dashed again after all. This guy was nuts too.

Knowing this, you really couldn´t do much aside from waiting for class to be over.

Your small hope that this was just a really strange outlier was quickly destroyed again in your following classes.

Next was a class on emotional manipulation and how to get your darling to depend on you.

Then, a class on how to force yourself into your darling´s life and how to approach growing closer to them.

Finally, the day ended with a lecture on how to kidnap your darling and make them disappear without a trace.

As the bell finally rung, the professor informed your class that there was also an optional class about how to effectively "get rid" of a rival that you can sign up for. You pretended to not be bothered when several students raised their hands to show their interest in attending this course.

You scrambled to get out of your seat as fast as possible, not wanting to stay in this hellish classroom for even a second later. You fled into the hallway and walk by groups of students excitedly chattering about things you didn´t want to listen to.

"Oh, I hope I can find my darling soon! I just know I´ll feel a special connection when we first make eye contact! I´ve been waiting for so long", the first girl swooned as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her finger, seemingly lost in her own fantasies.

"Agreed. I know that once I meet my darling, I won´t let anything get between us. I will never let them go. It´s only a matter of time", the taller, blue-haired woman chimed in, her voice calmer than that of her excitable friend.

You didn´t like the way her eyes linger on you as you pass by them.

Once home, you tried to make contact with the administrative office again to ask them if the process of your transfer can be sped up in any way. You didn´t want to spend another second in that academy.

With what you have seen today, you were easily able to deduce the true nature of this academy and it left you absolutely terrified.

The fact that you weren´t able to find any information about the academy beforehand, your strange classmates fixated on their potential "darlings" and of course the horrid classes being taught there.

Somehow, you have ended up in an academy for yanderes. Every single person you saw there today was a lovesick lunatic in some shape or form. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were in huge danger there. What would your crazed classmates do if they ever found out that you actually weren´t a fellow yandere but someone they could claim as a "darling"? The very thought of it makes you sick. You have to get out of there immediately!

Which is why your heart dropped when after some long hesitation, the person on the phone finally answered you.

"You must excuse me but I´m afraid to tell you that there have been some... unforeseen circumstances that do not permit me to work on your case at the moment. I have been asked to postpone this matter until further notice".

"What? Why?", is all you could manage to say in your befuddlement. You knew bureaucracy can take a long time but for this woman to specifically be asked to postpone this? Just what was going on here?

Again, the woman on the phone hesitated to answer and you could hear a tinge of nervousness in her voice when she finally spoke up. As if she wasn´t sure if she was allowed to say what she was about to.

"I´m afraid that I´m not at liberty to provide this information. The person asking me to...focus on different cases for the meantime wished to stay anonymous. Even so, it is not within my power to refuse their wishes as they have provided our establishment with a generous donation. I sadly cannot help you with this issue", at least the woman did sound generally apologetic but that didn´t really help you in this situation.

Your mind was still reeling as you processed this information. Someone specifically asked for your transferal to not be worked on? Why would anyone do this? And they seemed to have a large fortune too? Why all this to make you stay around?

It can´t be that you already attracted someone´s attention while at the academy, right? Surely that couldn´t be true! You made sure to not interact with anyone directly after you realized just what kind of people attended this school. How could one of these yanderes have "fallen for you" already?

It seemed so utterly unbelievable and if you were being honest, you didn´t want to believe that it was true either. But nothing else made sense. Why would anyone do this otherwise?

Noticing your prolonged silence, the woman spoke up once more.

"I´m sure that all of this will be resolved soon. It will only be a few months. I am sure you will find many friends at your current school soon."

You sure hoped not. The thought of being noticed by any of the yanderes already made the hairs on your neck rise. You vowed to stay away from anyone who even showed a fleeting interest in you. You had to keep yourself safe until you can finally switch schools. You could do this, you had to!

You barely registered when the woman bid you farewell and hung up the phone after you once again didn´t answer her.

Now completely alone, you forged a plan. If you didn´t want to get involved in anything dangerous, no one could find out that you were actually here by mistake and not a yandere. Nothing could be worse than these lunatics finding out that you´re a darling, so you´ll have to be very careful. But how do you do this?

Well, it seemed like you must act like a yandere yourself. You would have to pretend that you´re a lovesick fool who totally isn´t bothered by all this talk about kidnapping, stalking, and murder. Thinking about it again already made you sick but you didn´t really have any other options. No one could find out or it was over for you.

You only hoped that you could convincingly play the part and that no one was perceptive enough to see right through you. Well, it couldn´t be that hard, right?

Surely no one already had their eye on you. Right?

[slasher-fxcker]

s/o accidentally hurting michael’s feelings and making him cry? sorry i just love soft Michael imagines 😭🤎🙏🏾

A/N: Okay so I did get carried away and change this slightly, this is mostly angst but there definitely will be a fluffier part 2! I’m sorry but no matter how hard I tried I could not imagine a situation where Michael would cry. At this point I’m not fully convinced he would even possess tear ducts.

Fighting with Michael

Warnings: Toxic relationship, violence, mentions of blood. This blog is 18+ MDNI

To say you were beginning to worry was an understatement. It had been 3 days since you had seen Michael and although you knew he could handle himself, you couldn’t help but worry that something had happened to him. You weren’t sure what to do or how long you could wait, but what were you supposed to do? Call the police? Yeah that would go down great, Hi my boyfriend has been on a murder spree for the last 3 days and I haven’t heard from him, think you could help?

No, you knew all you could do was wait, luckily it wasn’t too much longer until you heard the familiar slam of the door that let you know someone was home. You rush down stairs to find Michael walking from the back door towards where you stood. You gasped when you saw him, he was covered in dirt and blood, you knew it was mostly victims but the rips in his jumpsuit made you think that some of it was his own.

He paused for a moment when he heard you, you reached a hand out and took a step towards him causing Michael to glare at you before continuing forward and pushing past you. From his behaviour and appearance, you guessed that the victim must have proved more difficult than he anticipated, but if he expected you to leave him be after practically going missing then he had another thing coming.

You followed him towards the stairs, grabbing his sleeve before he could take the first step. He spun around to face you and you couldn’t help but notice the tight grip he held on the dirty knife in his hand. You tentatively place a hand on his chest, not wanting to push him too much in his current state, “I missed you, I just want to make sure you're okay.” Michael places his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest and for a second you thought he was returning the affection, but he soon gripped your wrist tightly enough that it stung slightly before pushing you so that your back hit the wall next to the staircase. You could feel your eyes well as the emotion of the past 3 days finally got to you, your next words were a whisper but Michael heard you, “Why didn’t you just kill me?” this made him falter, he had been expecting you to either yell or leave him be, that he could deal with, but this, he didn’t know what to make of it. He just tilted his head and slightly lifted the pressure off your chest where he held you.

“You were gone for three days, do you know how worried I have been. But you don’t even care. So why, what was the point in keeping me alive if I mean so little to you.” You knew it wasn’t true, you knew Michael cared for you but you were so angry at him for how he made you feel that you couldn’t help it. You pushed his hand off of your chest, wiping the tears from you face and trying your best to match his glare, you wouldn’t be intimidated by him.

“I’m sick of being treated like this, I’m sick of you shutting me out.” You noticed his white knuckles as his fingers clenched around the blade in his hand but you held your composure, “I don’t deserve this, I stayed with you, I gave you all of me and you won’t even look at me after leaving me here.” He hadn’t reacted yet and you dared to take it one step further, slowly lifting your hand up towards his mask, “You won’t even let me see you.” He once again grabs your wrist in an iron hold, you pull away now anger boiling up inside you, your voice is no longer the soft whisper it had been, “If I mean so little to you then just finish the job Michael! Go on, kill me like you were supposed to. Do it, rid me from your life and finish this!” You barely get the sentence out and you see the glint of the knife as he raises it you close your eyes in anticipation of a pain that never comes.

Opening your eyes slowly you see Michaels form as he breathes heavily, almost erratically. You see the knife in your peripheral, stabbed into the wall, close enough that if you turned your head your nose would brush against it. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as you took in what had just happened, the only sound in the room was Michaels breathing. You couldn’t make excuses for Michael anymore, if he couldn’t show you even a sliver of humanity then you couldn’t keep pretending it was there. Was this a game to him? Something to pass the time in between his kills, was he going to keep you around until you bored him. If he wasn’t willing to try then you weren’t willing to put up with it anymore.

You pushed him away and he let you, knowing he could stop you if he wanted. He watched you as you walked out the door contemplating if following you would do more harm than good. After you slammed the door you swore you heard something being smashed from inside the house but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You didn’t know where you were headed as you walked down the quiet lane, but you knew you needed to get away from that house for a while. Away from Michael.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: There will be a part 2 to this, don’t worry I won’t leave you guys hanging there, it came out much longer and angsty-er than I expected

[hoomandoescosplay]

On The Air | Alastor x Reader Oneshot

In the early morning I feel Alastor get up from our bed causing me to slightly groan and pull the covers up a bit more.

I hear a muffled laugh come from him as he walks into our bathroom to get ready for work. I shift my position a bit, getting more comfortable to drift off again.

Eventually he comes back in, one more time, and leaves a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I love you my darling. I’ll be back home before you know it.” I mumble an incoherent response back, still being half asleep, before he leaves heading out to the radio station.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

I wake up noticing the empty, and slightly cold spot, next to me. Sighing I sit up to stretch before getting out of bed and walking into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast.

As I enter the kitchen, I see a tray of toast with butter and jam, an omelette, and a plate of sausages and potatoes. Alastor even prepared my coffee just the way I liked it.

After taking note of the thoughtful breakfast I noticed a note as well. I picked it up to read it as a smile engulfed my face.

Don't worry about breakfast, I prepared it for you, my darling.

I shall be home later today as the radio station has requested for me to stay longer tonight.

I’m sorry I won’t be home as soon as I originally thought today.

I’ll make it up to you darling. Kisses.

- Al ♡

Ever since we started dating, before that even, Alastor always tried his best to make me happy and put a smile on my face.

While I’m a bit sad he has to work a few extra hours today it also gives me more time to get some last minute gifts I wanted to give him today.

I stretch once more before grabbing the plate of sausages and potatoes along with the omelette to heat up over the stove.

I flick on the radio and start humming along with the song that is playing. As I continue to heat up the food, I hear something over the radio. It's Alastor's voice, he's on air at the moment making me smile.

“And that was some wonderful music for you. Now back to your wonderful host, here's me, Alastor!” A clapping track plays after he finishes his sentences causing me to roll my eyes playfully.

“How is everyone doing today? I'd hope well considering it’s Valentine’s Day.” He takes a second to pause. “I'd like to talk with you about something important as always - it's not the time to panic, but I think we should all remain vigilant because of the terrible events happening in nearby cities.”

I turn off the stove and slightly tune out his voice talking about the recent murder spree happening around our city.

Placing my food onto the dining room table I walk back into the kitchen to bring the radio with me into the dining room as I catch the last bit of his spiel on the recent murders.

“As always, I urge you all to stay cautious. And if you want to, you can always call in here and we'll chat. The police have assured us that they are working hard and that we should have no grounds for concern... But still, stay vigilant, my friends, stay vigilant.”

Taking a breath he starts up again. “Onto some lighter news, let's talk about Valentine’s Day. anyone want to call in and tell us what date you have planned for your special someone?” he asks in his radio voice as I start to eat my breakfast.

Not long after he asks for people to call in, someone's voice is already being heard through the radio.

The woman on the line is excited and speaks quickly: “Oh, I’ve got the best plans! My boyfriend and I are going out for dinner at a fancy new place we’ve been dying to try and to top it all off he said he would take me to one of his favorite spots. It's going to be so romantic.” She swoons and I can only assume blushes as well.

“Ah, how romantic. I do hope you have a wonderful time.” Alstor says as she thanks him before hanging up. A he takes a few more callers before he starts introducing the next song he has lined up to play.

I finish my breakfast and start to pick up the tray to bring into the kitchen for me to start cleaning.

I take the radio with me once more back into the kitchen. “Coming up next, the most romantic song I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear. All the ladies, all the men, get ready cause this song is going to just melt your heart. This one’s for you, everyone, and you especially, my love. This song is just for you. I hope you enjoy it.” I blush and roll my eyes playfully as I start to wash the dishes.

“Such a lover boy.” I mumble with a smile starting to spread on my face. The song ends much too soon and Alastor starts to talk on the air a while longer once more.

I shut the radio off after drying my hands and head into our bedroom to get dressed for the day. Getting dressed quickly, I check the time. It's still early morning which gives me more than enough time to do some shopping before he gets home.

I finish getting ready quickly and start to walk to the shops nearby to get a few things. I’ve been eyeing some new bowties I’ve seen and decided it would be a good idea to get him a new one along with some other small gifts.

The short walk ended as I walked into a store. As I browse I immediately see the bowtie I’ve been eyeing for weeks. It's a beautiful piece and I think that he would love it.

I also see some other romantic items, like a box of chocolates, a teddy bear, and a beautiful bunch of flowers. I decide to get all of the items and head to the register to check out.

I am happy with the selection I’ve made, and I feel like Alastor is going to be very happy with his gifts as well. The cashier rings up my items quickly. I pay the cashier and leave the shop with my bag of gifts. Satisfied with the amount of gifts I found I decide head back home.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

Opening the front door I walk inside making sure the door closes behind me before I place down the bag in the living room.

Glancing at the clock I notice I have a bit more time before Alastor said he’d be home. I decided to relax with the extra time I have by reading a book.

I unpack the gifts and set them on our bed for Alastor to walk into as a surprise when he gets home. I grab the book off of my nightstand and head back into the living room, sitting down and starting to read.

A few hours pass and I get through most of my booth until the phone starts to ring. Closing my book, I place it on the table next to me and walk over to the phone.

I picked it up and said a small “Hello?” waiting to see who is on the other end of the line.

“Hello my darling, I just wanted to give you a quick call to let you know that my day is taking longer than expected.” He pauses to sigh as I lean against the wall. “I’m sorry, I had so many plans for us today and it’s just not seeming to work out.”

I put a smile on my face hoping I can convince him I’m not disappointed we probably won’t be doing anything tonight.

“It’s alright Al, I promise. Don’t stress yourself out over this. Well just do something tomorrow.” I can hear him sigh again, clearly disappointed he has to stay late.

“Are you sure?” he asks, “You’re not disappointed?” I feel my heart melt a little at how much he cares. “Not at all,” I reply, trying to convince him.

Alastor pauses and sighs again. “I really wanted to do something special for you today. I wanted today to be special and romantic…”

“I know, I know. But it’s okay. We’ll do something extra special tomorrow alright?” I say trying to make him relax a bit.

He sighs again, but this time he sounds slightly more relieved when I assure him that I’m not disappointed. “Alright,” he says, “You’re right. Tomorrow, definitely. I love you.”

I smile. “I love you too Al. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up after and head back to where I was sitting in the living room.

Sitting back down I decide to go back to reading my book. A few hours pass, and as the afternoon begins to roll around.

Looking out the window an idea pops into my head causing me to grin. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.” I say to myself as I get up and head into the kitchen.

I grab a small basket and start putting together a small dinner. After finishing making the simple meal I pack up the basket with the food, a bottle of wine, and some plates and utensils.

The dinner looks lovely, quite a romantic gesture that he is sure to appreciate. Deciding to bring a small romantic dinner to Alastor at the radio station was a brilliant idea on my part I think as I take one last look around to make sure I’m not forgetting anything before I head out.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

Upon arriving at the station a few of Alastor’s coworkers greeted me and some even engaged in some small talk.

After getting past the lobby and some of the offices I start making my way to where Alastor’s studio and office is. I take a peek through the window connected to his office and see he’s not live right now. Taking the opportunity I opened the door.

He jumps in his chair, quickly turning to me with a surprised look on his face. Seeing me standing there with a basket filled with a romantic dinner causes that surprise to quickly turn into a big smile.

He stands up to come over to greet me, kissing me on the cheek as he wraps his arm around my waist.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here to bring me dinner darling.” He rubs small circles on my waist with the hand wrapped around me as I smile up at him.

“I know but I felt bad that you had to cancel our plans due to working late so I wanted to bring the dinner plans to you.” I grin at him as I lean into his touch a bit more.

He stares at me with utter adoration as he speaks up. “Happy Valentine’s Day my darling. I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise today.” He says pulling me in closer to him as he kisses my lips quickly.

I smile during the kiss and it grows wider as we part. “Oh trust me this isn’t the only surprise.” He raises an eyebrow at me causing me to laugh. “I got you a few more gifts. You’ll have to wait to see what they are until we get home though.”

Alastor’s face lights up when you give him that hint. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” He says excitedly. He gives me another kiss on the lips, but this time it lasts longer.

“I guess being on the air today was worth it then.” Alastor replies as I start to laugh again.

[antianakin]

It's probably been around a while and I just haven't encountered it before now, but the "yes everyone would have murdered a village down to the last child in that situation" take is a new one for me! Like would I have been justifiably upset in that situation? Yes. But what would I have done in that moment myself? Probably run. Granted I am not a person with a ton of unfathomable powers and a weapon I have spent a decade training to use that can cut through literally everything, but still. The argument that "well yeah EVERYONE would've done exactly what Anakin did" kinda falls apart when you think about it for two seconds because wow is that not what I would do when faced with being alone in the middle of an entire community of people who just captured and tortured my innocent mother for several weeks.

But it's also VERY hard to argue that this is even how everyone would react to this situation in Star Wars.

They literally have an entire arc where they explicitly have Obi-Wan's old nemesis who killed Obi-Wan's Master come to attack the home planet of someone he loves, captures her, and then murders her right in front of Obi-Wan with Obi-Wan helpless to save her. He then goads Obi-Wan into reacting in anger and Obi-Wan's reaction is to refuse to engage. He very explicitly refuses to even attack Maul because he knows he'd be reacting in anger and he's literally seen exactly where that leads before and overcome it. So when Obi-Wan IS put in an extremely similar situation, he chooses not to just go out and attack everybody as a result. He doesn't give in to his anger and fly to Dathomir to go kill every single Nightbrother on the planet as a form of justice for Satine, which is what this person is arguing is how literally anybody would react when placed in that situation.

Reva Sevander has every reason to despise Anakin, more reason than Anakin had to despise the Tuskens. And yet when she goes after Luke to try to kill him after she fails to kill Anakin, that becomes a line she can't cross. More accurately, it's a line Reva CHOOSES not to cross. So when put in that situation with all the same anger and grief as Anakin had with the opportunity to get her vengeance by killing an innocent child, Reva makes the active choice not to do what Anakin did. So while the impulse obviously was still there with Reva, she was fully capable of choosing not to go through with it. And Reva's been soaking in Darkness since she was about 8-10 years old, getting tortured and broken as an Inquisitor, surrounded by the corpses of her people, with zero support of any kind that she can turn to for comfort or guidance. Anakin had spent the last 10 years in a warm loving environment with people who cared for him and still had most of those people available to him to support him in this time of grief. And yet when faced with the same choice, Reva chose to pull back and let Luke live, but Anakin just kept going and massacred an entire village. It's a CHOICE, not an uncontrollable urge.

You know the only other person I can think up off the top of my head who DOES canonically have a similar reaction to Anakin's?

Aleksander Kallus.

Kallus explicitly states that he leads a genocide against the Lasat as vengeance for ONE Lasat killing a unit of Imperial soldiers in self defense. An entire species is nearly wiped out of existence because Kallus decided to let his anger control him.

But there are NUMEROUS other characters in Star Wars who we see lose people they love and proceed to not go on a murder spree against innocent people and children as a result. And the ones that do are pretty explicitly villains whose actions when in those situations are used to showcase just how villainous they are. Which indicates that it's NOT a normal reaction because otherwise it wouldn't really mean anything as a villain identifier. If it's something just about anyone would've done, it's probably not that villainous. The point of it NEEDS to be that most people WOULDN'T do that, even in justified anger.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November challenge.

There's Just One Who Could Make Me Stay

November Prompt: Guard | Word Count: 532 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Eddie Munson Lives, Returning Home, Reconnecting, Pre-Steddie

Steve stands along the baseline. The kids on the court look way younger than he remembers being at their age. Of course, he was fighting monsters, and that ages a man.

He's part of the old guard. 

Problem is, he still feels young. Forty-eight isn't old, but thirty years is a long time to be out of high school.

Tommy greeted him with excitement earlier. The jagged edges of their friendship smoothed over after years. King Steve resurrected, for one night only. Steve played along. He was happy to see him, but Steve definitely hasn't forgotten.

Lucas, Steve actually was happy to see. That championship will always be tainted, the last one Hawkins ever won. But Lucas deserved to be the master of ceremonies, the cutter of ribbons.

The new gym is dedicated, and it's weird to stand where the demolished old one stood, now long gone. Like so many things in Hawkins. It's not the town he grew up in, that's for damn sure. 

None of them stayed, they fled, one-by-one.

Outside, Steve sees his rental car tire is flat. The spare? Mostly flat. 

Goddamnit.

He digs in his wallet and finds his AAA card, and expects to be told that it'll be an hour or two. But there's surprisingly a local shop that covers AAA calls now, and they've dispatched them out.

Awesome. Steve hops up on the trunk of the car and watches the last of the crowd disperse. 

He hears the tow truck before he sees it. 

Sees the dark head of long hair fly upwards when the guy jumps out, both boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. 

"Flat tire?" the guy hollers as he's pulling open the toolbox along the bed.

Steve stills.

"Eddie?"

And the head whips towards him, familiar, even if it's been nearly thirty years.

"Steve Harrington can't change a tire?" voice teasing, but delighted.

Steve laughs, crossing the distance.

"Spare is flat, too. How the hell are you? I didn't know you were back in town," Steve says, barreling forward, pulling Eddie off his feet.

It's been a long fucking time. 

"Yeah, enough of the old assholes have croaked that most of the townsfolk don't even remember my whole satanic murder spree," Eddie says dryly, hugging him back. "Wayne retired, and I moved home to keep him retired."

"You should have called. I'd have come to see you."

Helping pack Eddie up, only half-healed from his wounds, had been Steve's biggest what if in life. Eddie, the first to go.

Now, here he is.

Eddie smiles, face close, "I figured you had a whole life going."

"Divorced. Three times," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. There are wrinkles around his eyes, but he looks good. Really happy.

"Jesus Christ, Harrington. Don't you know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over-and-over, expecting different results?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve jaws back. And it's nice, the banter. He's missed it. 

They get down on the ground at the tire together. AAA might be paying Eddie to change it, but Steve can fucking help.

Tire changed, hands dirty, Steve looks at Eddie, "You wanna grab a beer? I'll buy."

"Hell yeah you will, Harrington."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[mokulule]

The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

Next

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

@thewondersoflebanon | @gin2212 | @busterkeel | @apointlessbox | @spoopyspoony | @charlietheepic7 | @proper-idiocy | @serasvictoria02 | @zgirlly | @emeraldcorpral | @mushroom-jack | @v-inari | @8-29pm | @quirky-gardener | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @mars-the-witch | @elthepickle | @thegatorsgoose | @impulsiveasshole |

@tired-yet-awaken | @luagi-the-bestest | @britcision | @autumnwulf | @little-pondhead | @asphyxia778 | @sarina-elais | @may-rbi | @onlyhereforthechaos | @somuchyikes | @yjfk | @rosiea184 | @screamingtofillthevoid | @ailithnight | @writer-extraodinaire | @samgirl98 | @hanahaki-disease | @riverdancingwerewolves |

[mikobeautifulheart]

JJk men when you go delusional

INCLUDING: Yuji and Toge

TW: Blood loss. Not enough sleep. Not edditeddddd

☆Yuji☆

He had been on countless missions all day and was so trieded. No wonder his surprise when you opened the door before he even knocked, stumbling around and giggling to yourself.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He was so confused. You were usually calm and quiet but here you are infront of him, a giggling mess.

"Yujiiiiiiiiiii" you said wrapping your arms around him.

What the-you never usually give him hugs unless you were upset. As you held onto him he peered over your shoulder into your room. There wasnt anything there except for 6 or 7 mugs. Now empty mugs of coffee. Truth be told you've been going on a lot of missions to. For 3 straight days and bearly 15 minutes of sleep.

Yuji didn't know what to do, but he knew you didn't have another mission for 2 days so he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

"Yuujii, what are you doing" you squealed now dangling your arms behind him.

"You need to sleep."

"Nooo I don't wanna" you tried to escape but it was no use, all your energy was used up on your missions.

Swiftly, Yuji lowerd you on the bed before crashing on top of you.

You giggled even more.

"Your so cute Yuji. Have you ever wanted kids? OOO we would have the cutest kids." you giggled again.

His face went beat red and he buried it in the pillow next to your head.

"Go to sleep." He muffled.

~Toge~

You and Toge are on a mission together, first thing was you two were split up just fighting off the amount of curses there were. Then sometime near the middle he heard you scream.

"SHAKEE" Toge yelled in your direction.

You laid on the floor, the gash on you back bleeding out.

"I'm pissed off now" you said with a glint in your eyes.

Suddenly you just.ped up and started massacuring the curses with your cursed weapon and just kept going, regardless of how much blood got on you.

Toge was shocked, he'd never seen you like this, not while losing so much blood.

Soon enough you killed the last curse and started at Toge, your eyes changing to a misty hue

"IMM SORRY TOGE IT WAS MEEEE." You broke down crying.

"Mustard leaf?" he said with utter confusion.

"I-I-I WAS THE ONE WHO TOOK YOUR FAVOURITE SHIRT" You cried even harder falling to your knees, still bleeding.

His eye only slightly twitched in irritation. You we're seriously injured, went on a murder spree and all you had decided to confess to your crime now?

He ran over to you, now head tucked into your knees, your back bleeding more then ever.

"Tuna Tuna" He said eyes wide.

"No if this is the end then let it be, I knew I should have asked, I'M SO SORRYY" you cried wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Nori" he said lifting you bridal style as you held onto his uniform for life.

He ran you out of there and stayed next to you all the way back to Shoko.

The next day you woke up in your bed dazed and in Toge's favorite shirt, which was weird because the last thing you remember was the pain from the injury you got from the mission. You rolled over and saw Toge holding a strand of your hair sitting at the edge of your bed.

"So about the shirt..." You said looking at him

AUTHOURS NOTE: Idk i tried to make that Toge one work the best I could. lemme know if you want a part 2 of this and who off. Anywayysssss, good whatevertime <3

[bandgie]

Ghost in the Night

Ghostface!Jeongin x fem!reader

AU 1 | AU 2

synopsis: Keep your doors locks, shut your windows, don't go outside after sundown. Rules were quickly put in place when a killer, known as 'Ghostface,' began terrorizing your city. You listened to all these rules until finals night, but still, there's no way in hell Ghostface could get to you. Right?

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBCON/NONCON, breaking an entry, implied kidnapping, PIV, forced oral (m! receiving), face slapping, blood/murder, face fucking, slight pain during sex (no prep) crying/begging, cumming inside, degrading words (slut, bitch, etc), not proofread,

4.1k words shheesshhh

Another college student was found dead. Their throat slashed along with their stomach. The police found them in their apartment with the words 'COME FIND ME' smeared on the walls with blood. The story along made you queasy. This killer, who the town nicknamed Ghostface, has been on a spree for about two weeks now. It really happened out of the blue. One day, you're attending college parties, and the next, you're too scared to even shop for necessities.

Rumors began to speculate about who it could be. Many people thought it was the rival university, some thought it was the son of the dean who couldn't get into the school, most thought it was just a psycho. The question remained though, why did Ghostface only go after college students?

Your friends dropped out of college upon hearing the news. They urged you to do the same, but you were so close to graduating that you decided to push through. After all, most of the students attacked were sorority or frats, you weren't either of them. If you kept your head down, didn't attend the stupid parties students kept throwing because they liked the thrill, you would be fine.

So here you were, on the second floor of the library late at night. You're thankful your library had open hours until midnight, it was great for last minute studying. The librarian was very friendly, even offering to drive you home. "I hear about what's been happening," she tells you as she rubs her trails hands.

You shake your head, "Thank you for your concern. I really don't wanna waste your time, I'll be fine." She eyes you cautiously, as if hoping you'd second guess yourself and take her offer. When you don't, she sighs. "Fine, deary. You be safe out there." You nod your head and watch her descend back to her from post.

-

A few hours pass before you decide to head home, your brain fried from all the studying. You wave the librarian a goodbye and exit the doors, greeted with the moon and stars in the sky. Had there not been a killer loose, you would have loved to admire the view. It's a blood moon tonight, and you pray that it's a good omen.

While walking back to your dorm, you couldn't help but hear music blasting. You pass one of the frat dorms, watching as people passed out in the front lawns and other vomiting. You grimaced at the sight. How could they party like this when people were being brutally murdered? You ignored their hollers and whistles to continue on your path.

"Hey!" One of them shouts at you. You ignore it, walking faster to get to your safe place. "Hey! I'm calling you!" Still, you maintain your pace. If you keep walking fast enough, you'll be able to-

"Damn girl! I'm tryna talk to you," the guy had caught up to you. He held you by your upper arms stinking of booze. You turned to face him in an attempt to intimidate him, "I'm not interested." You try your best to sneer, but he only laughs. "Never said I wanted you to be. I was just gonna say you shouldn't be walking all alone." His ominous statement send chills down your spine.

"I appreciate you tryna be my hero, but like I said, I'm not interested." You sternness throws him off, and he quickly lets go of your arm. "Bitch," he mumbles, "I was just tryna help." You don't bother replying, quickly turning around to escape his presence. You can't trust anyone, you can't take your chances.

You make a sharp turn, hoping that you're out of his sight. It doesn't take long to hear the familiar steps behind you. Rather than ignoring him this time, you turn around quickly to confront him. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I said-" You stop yourself. You were fully excepting to see his drunk ass behind you, but instead your faced with nothing.

You shiver, whipping back around to scurry home. It was just the wind, you think. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, feel the blood that pumps in your veins. No no no, calm down. You're fine. There's nothing here. Even while you try to relax your heartbeat, you start hearing the footsteps again.

Too scared to turn around, you run. Maybe there's nothing behind you at all. Maybe you're running like a manic only scaring yourself more. It doesn't matter though, you're filled with too much fear to think rationally.

Another turn, and you can see your dorm complex in the distance. You stop running as fast, convinced that you're just overreacting. You do keep a fast walk though, still unsure if you could really walk so carelessly. Your gaze is up in the sky, watching how the moon gets bigger and bigger.

The sky provides a good amount of light as you finally make your way to the front door as your house. You reach for your keys only to see that your front door is already open. Your eyebrows raise, unsure if your roommate just got home and forgot to close the door. You push it open, taking a peek. The lights are off and it's quiet. Perhaps they just forgot and went to sleep.

You walk in and flick on the light, setting your bag down. It's not until your eyes are better adjusted in the lighting that you see your roommate. She's hunched over, limp on the couch as if she was waiting for you. You gasp at her, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god!" You breathe. "Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me." You take steps towards her waiting for her response. There is none. "Hey, girl you good?" You reach out to grasp her shoulder and the little contact makes her fall on the ground. It's then that you see the blood that pool on the couch, how easily her head lolls to the side.

You fall to the ground with her, flipping her around to see a giant slash across her neck. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open as if she was screaming. You can't help but try to shake her despite it being in vain, tears falling down your face. You're so caught up in your mourning that you don't hear the footsteps that come towards you.

A shadow hovers over you, and you turn around to see the familiar descriptions you've seen in the news. A black cloak, gloved hands, a white mask with a permanent open mouth. You cry even harder upon the sight. A part of you doesn't think it's real, that it's all just a sick dream you're having. Even as the killer kneels down towards you to stare at your face, you pray it's just a nightmare.

"I had to come pretty quick, you were almost home," it speaks. You don't really register what he's saying. He straightens back up, "You know, I also killed that dude back there that grabbed you. Guys like that piss me off. They have no respect for personal space ya know what I mean?" Perhaps he said that as a joke, considering this man literally killed your roommate mere moments ago.

"Please," your voice is horse and thick with emotion. "I don't want-want to die." You start sobbing, bloody hands cradling your face in an attempt to comfort yourself. The masked man cocks his head to side, seemingly intrigued by your cries. "You think I'm gonna kill you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, yanking your head up by your hair. You whimper and nod, vision blurry with tears.

You try begging more, but all that comes out are garbles sentences and pathetic wails. Ghostface is rather enjoying the show, smiling behind his mask. "You've got a good crying face. Keep begging," his grip tightens on your hair. You do, and honestly he didn't even need to ask. In the midst of your sobs, you can feel the cold edge of something sharp against your throat. You feel it slowly dig into your neck, but not hard enough to break the skin.

The contact makes you freeze up, eyes wide with absolute terror. Ghostface literally moans at the sight. "Fuck, I love that look." He makes the knife dances around your neck, staring at how your pupils dilate. Pleasurable shivers travel his body, and he can feel the blood traveling to his cock. Killing you now would be a waste, he should at least have some fun first.

He removes the knife from your neck throws it across the room. You jump at the clattering noise, almost missing how he uses his now free hand to yank his pants down. On your knees, your face-to-dick with his half hard on. You almost throw up at the realization, eyes staring into the masks eyes pleading.

He shoves his crotch closer to your face, smearing his cock on your face. You keep your mouth closed, determined to keep your dignity intact. Ghostface doesn't like this, and pulls your hair back so hard you think you'll go bald. "You think this is a fucking game?" He forces you to look at him while he speaks. "You wanna end up like your bitch roommate? Huh?" You shake your head as you sob.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, get to work slut."

You don't think you can manage to even keep your mouth open with how violently your sobbing, but Ghostface doesn't wait for you to open up all the way. He quickly shoves his half hard in your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, trying your best not to gag. A part of you thinks about biting down on him, and he must see a glint in your eyes because he yanks your face off him.

The force of his pull makes you cry out, but he responds by slapping you hard across the face with his free hand. Pain surges in your face, and you can't help the continuous tears that fall. "If you fucking bite me, I'll make you choke on your own insides," he threatens. If it wasn't for the corpse of your roommate mere feet away, you would still believe him because of the look in his eye.

"I won't!" You speak through your cries. "I promise I promise just please don't hurt me." Ghostface smiles under his mask, giving your cheeks three more light slaps before shoving your face back on his cock. Determined to prove your life is worthy, you stick your tongue out to lick his underside. You can tell he surprised by the way his breath hitches.

You let your lips run over his length along with your tongue. Salvia quickly begins to pool in your mouth, and you spit on his dick. You carefully reach your hands up, scared that he might slap you again. You can tell he's watching with judgement as you grab the base of his cock with one of your hands. Your other one steads on your thigh as you let your mouth fall open.

Working in one fluid motion, you bob your head to the speed of your hand. His cock is smooth, save for the pulsating of his veins. He's completely hard now, and it's pretty difficult to get more than half his girth between your lips. Your hands become sticky with precum and spit. You can feel how your drool dibbles down your cheeks as you continue to take him in your mouth.

Now there's two hands in your hair, and he's started pull you closer and closer to him. A particular thrust of his hips has you gagging, nearly coughing his cock out. He doesn't let you pull him out, instead forcing you to keep a couple inches in. You're making noises that both sound like moaning and suffocating, and it turns him on a lot more than he'd like to admit.

Watching you try your best to suck his cock like your life depends on it makes him feel alive because, well, your life does depend on it. You doe eyes wide with fear and concentration amuses him, makes him feel almost bad for the fact that he's still going to kill you when you're done. Not to mention your lips, how swollen and red they are from pleasuring him.

A part of him wishes he could take his mask off, make you look him in the eyes rather than his mask. The clear view could possible make him cum quickly in your mouth. Instead, Ghostface makes do with your current state. You're dripping in him and your own liquids, hands feverishly moving easily in the slobber.

All you and him can hear are your choked sobs, wet sucking, and the occasional movement of his hips hitting your face. To both of your shock, you find yourself getting aroused by his cock in your mouth. The fear in your stomach slowly begins to bubble into desire. Your panties getting slightly damp. You can't stop yourself as you clench you thighs together to get some friction.

You try to convince yourself that it's normal to get like this in a life or death situation. There's been cases of people's brain getting so scared that it gets sexually stimulated. You pray that this is the case now because you're starting to think how pretty this man's moans is. He sounds breathy, needy, desperate. Like he hasn't gotten much action in a while, or at least not to this extent.

A self-defense mechanism, you try to tell yourself as your pussy begins to seep through your underwear.

Ghostface suddenly thrusts his hips into your face, his cock hitting your throat deep. You throat contracts around him, and the pressure has him pulsing. You think you might suffocate with how he just keep shoving his dick into your mouth without caring how you claw at his thighs. Then he moans, almost sings his groans as he shoots his cum down your throat.

If you thought you were suffocating then, you must be dying now. His hot cum chokes you and slightly trickles down your chin. Your wide eyes have now rolled to the back of your head, and your chest began burning from lack of oxygen. Perhaps this is how you go out, dead by dick.

Just before you can feel yourself lose consciousness, he pulls away. You gasp and cough for air, hands grabbing your throat. Ghostface takes a few steps back as if he was surprised by his own orgasm. You heave, lungs burning from the intake of fresh air. Before you have the chance to fully recover, he pulls you up by the back of you head and harshly throws you on the couch. You hate how your shirt begins to grow damp with your roommate's blood, but you try to persuade yourself that it's just sweat.

Ghostface is between your legs in a matter of seconds, lifting up your skirt to expose your underwear.

You're still trying to catch your breath as your hands aimlessly attempt to push him off. You hear him snicker, gripping your thighs tightly to pull them apart. He sighs dreamily, "You're so wet baby. I can't tell if you're that turned on from sucking my cock or if you're so scared you pissed yourself."

Shame overtakes you, and you fight even harder to push him away. He only laughs at your attempts, releasing you for just a second to wrap his hands around his throat. Your finger try to pry him off, but all he does it squeeze harder. You can feel your face turning read, the familiar sensation of suffocating returning.

"I thought you would have learned to be nicer to me by now," he tsks. "Be a good girl and let me fuck you. I would rather like to fuck this pussy warm and alive." You can't verbally answer him since he's crushing your windpipe, so you meekly nod. He released your throat just before your vision went fully dark.

His gloves hands trail over your body, cupping at your breasts before continuing on their way down. You're scared that moving would make you faint, so you stay still as he explores your body. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the latex. How strong his fingers are as they reopen your legs. He rubs a thumb on your clothed pussy, keeping on hand on your abdomen.

Then, he does something even he knows he shouldn't do; Takes off his mask. If you weren't so oxygen-deprived, you could probably see his clearly. All you can make out is his dark hair, thick eyebrows, full lips. His specific features are a little hazy, but you can see enough to know that despite your better judgment, he's not bad looking at all.

He throws the mask onto your face, blocking your vision. "Don't take it off," he commands. "Take that mask off and I'll rip your throat out with my hands." You nod as shivers run down your body, "I won't." Those are all the words he needs to heat before moving your under to the side. The sight of your aroused clit has his breath caught in his throat, he's never seen anything as beautiful.

"Oh baby," he practically moans. His fingers feel a little uncomfortable as he plays with your lower lips, but it's not painful. He smears your wetness all over your pussy and thighs. Ghostface is amazed at how much your pussy was drooling for him. Maybe you're sick too, just like him.

Your cunt feels cold when he withdraws his hand from you, and your body reactively chases his touch. You hate how you hear him chuckle at your actions. He takes his finger and shoves it into his mouth, curious about your taste. You can't see too clear, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he likes what he ate.

"I'd kill to eat your pussy," he compliments. "Don't have the time to though, maybe next time."

No prep, no lube, just this man precisely angling his cock to your soppy entrance. You're whimpering quietly, little sounds as if to say please don't when it only entices him more. He lets out a soft groan when his tip enters your soft walls. You try to close your legs, but now with two hands gripping the back of your thighs, you really don't have a choice.

He pushes in, and you use both your hand to cover your mouth. He has more length than girth, so it feels never ending as he slides in. It's slightly painful at first, but you find yourself feeling satisfying full. Your assaulter can't fit himself all the way since you're too tight, but it's enough for him to rock his hips.

There's no warm up to his strokes, and your thrown in forced pleasure all too quickly. The feeling of his sliding in and out, how he manages to get deeper and deeper each time, the bruising grip on your thighs. Now you're covering your mouth to suppress your moans rather than cries. Even though, he can still hear how you squeak and groan as he pounds into you.

He watches as your breasts bounce from underneath your shirt, the way your body completely shifts every time he thrusts into you. You can say you want him to stop all you want, but he can feel how inviting your pussy has gotten. Almost begging in to stay inside, to pump you full of his cum.

Now he meets you at the hilt, his pelvis slapping against your ass. It's getting hard to breath under his mesh mask, but you don't dare to take it off. You should be ashamed with how you look up at him, practically admiring his expressions and how he groans. From what you can see, his mouth is fallen open as he moans carelessly. Like he didn't just make you take his cock, like he didn't just kill your roommate without remorse.

The pain is completely gone, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been in pain to begin with. He's so good with his cock, like he knows where in your cunt you like it. His hands stay at your thighs, but you wish he could use his gloves fingers to rub your clit. You might've been gripping his by his broad shoulders if you weren't too busy quieting yourself.

Even without the stimulation on your lower lips, you can feel your stomach tightening. The warm orgasm slowly collecting in your abdomen. You let your legs fall open even more, eager for him to drive deeper into you. He accepts happily, laughing maniacally. "God fuck, I knew you were a fucking slut. Putting your nose in a book, acting like a good little girl when you're just as sick as me."

'W-What?" You can't stop from questioning him. Has he been watching you this whole time?

You don't think he's going to answer you with how hard he's driving his hips into you, but he does. "The library. You- ngh fuck!- rather be a fucking loser than party. That scared of me huh?" He cackles. "So scared that you take my fat cock." He stops talking for a few beats to focus on fucking you.

"Aw shit, I'm gonna cum inside you." A statement, not a request. His thrusts become sloppy, aggressive. You cam feel his tip in your throat with how deep he is, and you lose your composure. One of your hands whisk down to rub your aching clit. The movement startles him for a second, but then he smiles once he realizes.

You're despicable. You should feel huge amounts of disgrace as you finish on his cock, but you don't. Instead you feel bliss with your walls squeezing around him. The sudden pressure of your pussy makes him whimper, then cum right after. He's so warm, so lively that you forget that he's a serial killer.

He gives you a few more deep strokes to ride out his high, making you tremble. Your legs shake as he slowly pulls out, but his grip on your legs in firm. He watches as his and your cum oozes out, like blood from a gash. He moans at the sight, feeling his softening cock twitch.

You're breathing heavily under him, still whimpering from the aftershocks. The post nut has not hit yet, and you're tying to relish in his body warmth. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that he's just a hook up. You can tell yourself that you'll get Plan B after this, that you'll take a shower and go to sleep. And when you wake up in the morning, it'll be like nothing happened.

That's not true though, and your fantasy is quickly shut down when his hands wrap around your neck. You gasp at the feeling, your weak hands clawing at his wrists. You both know your fighting is in vain, he was going to kill you regardless of what you did. Tears spring your eyes as you come to terms with your fate. So much for graduating on time.

Maybe it's your tears that have an effect on time. Maybe it's the fact that your pussy is still dripping with him, but Ghostface is having a change of heart. He uses one hand to rip the mask off your face to look into your eyes. It's his favorite part when taking someone's life. Yours though, are not the same. Yes he can see the sadness, the pain, but he can see something he hasn't seen before: Acceptance.

With the mask off, you're able to see his face clearly. He looks like he's thinking with the gentle creases on his forehead. His nose is scrunches and his eyebrows furrowed, and you can't help but think he's..."Cute."

It's the last thing I.N hears you say before you pass out, face turning a purple color. He quickly releases his grip on you, pressing a finger under your chin to feel for a pulse. When he feels it, he sighs in relief. Killing you was on his list since he first saw you weeks ago at the library. You did party, he's seen you before. Yet, watching you turn into a hermit because of him was romantic. He loves having that much power over people, over you.

I.N knows better than to play with his food, but he might make an exception this time. After all, he does have a spare room waiting to be used.

a/n: this took a few days and I feel like I could have done better but here ya go, feeback is appreciated update: au part here!

[shutupineedtothink]

Alright, y’all really got me goin on this “we’re still in the trial” idea, so here’s the potential evidence:

Spoilers below the cut in case I turn out to be right lol.

The color grading when they got back on the road was Weird. Almost orange, when the road has been very blue tinted overall this whole time

Maybe the orange-y ness is because there’s still a blood moon but we didn’t pan up to see it?

Or maybe its just visual code for “this is not the real Road”

Jen and Alice both came out of their trials having gained something, confidence for Jen and freedom (from the curse) for Alice. Agatha really walks out with nothing except more trauma. If we go with the theory that the Road is making them deal with their trauma in order to overcome it, then the trial isn’t over. Agatha has more work to do. (We have to face our worst fears.) On the other hand, maybe Agatha just failed her trial. Maybe that means she gets another one later. Idk.

I keep wondering where we would go back to if we were still in the trial, and I think it’s when they first spelled DEATH with the ouija board and Rio laughed. At that point, everything that happened after that was her game to play. She knows Agatha’s past, and she’s trying to get her to face her inner demons, show some fucking vulnerability, and acknowledge that maybe she wasn’t born evil. Rio (and/or The Road) wants her to face her past so that she can show up as her real self, the Agatha she’s known all along 👀 (and to get Agatha to stop freaking running away from her). Rio’s still the only one who sees her (te veo), even Agatha can’t see herself. Rio exists separate from the events of the trial, and yet she’s still on Agatha’s side, being the protector she needs even as everyone else is slowly turning against her. With a little bit of crazy/murderous intent thrown in of course bc that’s how she is.

Also can’t get over the look Rio throws at Agatha as she climbs the ladder to get out of the house. It reads as frustration to me, like really, you’re running away from this again? You’re gonna keep pushing this down and repeating the same old patterns instead of facing your trauma again? Jesus fuck what do I have to do to get through to this woman.

I was originally thinking this was playing out as is due to the fact that we end on Teen/Billy and his powers, with Agatha basically gone. But then it occurred to me that those last few minutes were truly her worst fear manifested, that he began to hate her, turned on her, and became evil himself, partly due to her own taunting. Her worst fear is that SHE will turn the boy she thinks could be her son evil, passing it down because it’s an innate thing inside her, just like her mother said.

Bonus points: IF we’re still back in the trial, Alice isn’t dead, Jen was never quite as vicious as all that (that was Agatha’s own mind berating her), and Teen is still “Teen” and never went on a murder spree to kill the coven. But imo, everyone still remembers this version of events, which makes for some hella interesting character moves all around. Particularly for Alice, Teen, and Agatha. I actually have a whole headcannon for how this plays out, but idk if I should share it or not, because it will be ALL the spoilers if it happens.

Thoughts?

[klausysworld]

A random idea, Klaus is really (murder spree) angry Elijah and Rebecca are trying to talk reader into leaving with them but she tells them no, that she knows Klaus won’t hurt her, they are both in shock as they watch her walk up to Klaus speak to him and he totally calms down.

Thanks.

Because I love you

As I approached the abattoir i could hear glass breaking, a whole lot of screaming and a very distinctive yell, Klaus. Suddenly Rebekah came rushing out, the door swinging dramatically behind her as she ran towards me

“Y/n he’s gone mad, we need to leave now, come on in the car” she spoke in one breath grabbing onto my sleeve as tugging me along

“What happened? Is he okay?” I asked concerned. Suddenly Elijah appeared next to us covered in blood

“He’s prepared to kill every being in this city if not all of America itself for the best that we go away for a bit- you especially, you’re human” he took my hand and tried to coax me into the car

“No what? What happened? Did someone hurt him?” I question, another crash sounded, another scream.

“Look we just need to get out! It’s not safe when he’s like this!” Rebekah whisper yelled starting the car

“Jesus you two are meant to be a thousand years old, I’m going to see if he’s okay” i started walking back but Elijah was directly infront of me again

“Y/n i beg you to reconsider, he will hurt you” i frowned at him and moved around him

“He won’t lay a hand on me” i nodded to myself walking forward a little more confidently. I heard the car stop and both of their footsteps following behind

“He might drain you-“ Rebekah started

“He won’t” i cut her off

I walked in to see bodies nearly everywhere. I quickly ducked as a whole ass chair flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind me. I blinked a few times at it before making eye contact with an apprehensive Elijah who light shook his head ‘no’

I took a breath and turned back to the direction of pain filled terror. I stepped over and/or around the body parts leading to a fuming Klaus, blood splattered everywhere and a white oak stake in his hand that pointed at a man i had never seen who was crying a river

“Klaus?” I asked softly, his head whipped round to face me, his deathly expression dropping as he lowered his hand

“My love you need to go home” he told me, his adams apple bobbing

“Can you put the stake away…why do you even have it? I thought it was destroyed remember?” I asked stepping closer to which he moved backwards

“They want to kill me, it would seem that they discovered another. They need to pay for the harm they have caused and the lives they have threatened” his words grew harsher with each word, his gaze hardening

“Elijah and Rebekah are afraid, please calm down” i whispered and he growled

“My siblings are weak! They will not stand and defend themselves! Defend me! Or you! These people they threatened you! They will die and i do not care if i have to kill off the entire world to make sure every last pathetic excuse of an enemy is dead”

My lips pulled together in a thin line before i spoke again

“Look at him Niklaus, he’s crying, are you even sure that he was apart of this? There’s a dead old man in the corner, i do doubt an 80 year old human could have charged at you with white oak”

“He was collateral” he mumbled

“I thought you were going to try and limit the collateral” i took a few steps closer

“I can’t, not with this” he uttered

“Please, some of these people have families, they have people they love. Klaus i love you, if someone were to kill you and say it was collateral i would not accept that”

“That is why i need to kill everyone so it just cancels out” he frowned

“You’re making a bigger mess, just give me the stake, you trust me right? I’m going to put it somewhere safe so you can’t get hurt. Then you can stop because nobody can kill you without it” he sighed and looked at the weapon hesitantly

“But they can harm you” he whispered almost incoherently

“Then be with me, just stay with me” i held my hand out to him, he nodded nearly unnoticeably and dropped the stake in my hand.

“Let him go please” I instructed and he let go of the man infronts throat, letting him drop to the ground sobbing

“We’re going to go upstairs, calm down for 10 minutes and then I’m going to help you clean this up”

“We are not doing anything of the sort, you should never have to touch such horrible things” he growled

“This is not something anybody should have to do but you made the mess and you will clear it up and because i love you, and so i will help” i yelled back at him. He fell silent and his eyes dropped

“I’ll do it myself” he murmured

“We will help” Elijah called from behind us, i turned and smiled sadly at him, Rebekah was already lifting a body from the ground. Both looking both shocked, terrified and confused at the same time

“No, I’m afraid this is something he needs to do without you, please just relax, no more drama, take a day off” i took Klaus’s hand and pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom. I filled a bucket with warm water and grabbed a cloth

“There’s not much point in a shower until we’ve gotten rid of everything so ill just wash your face” I muttered seeing him glance to the shower

“Okay” he whispered lifting his head to make it easier to wipe clean

Once finished he looked at me silently for a minute or two

“Are you upset with me” he asked quietly

“No, I’m upset with the situation” I muttered

“You’re disappointed” he whispered

“I just don’t like all the death but i understand why you got angry, you just need to wait a minute and think before you act. Please don’t let me find you like that again, Elijah thought you would hurt me.” I stoked his cheek bones with my thumbs

“Did you…think i would hurt you?” He asked softly

“No, you wouldn’t touch me” I confirmed and he sighed, his head growing heavy in my hands as his eyes closed for a second

“I love you and i…i trust you” he uttered

“I trust you too, and you know that i love you. Now are you ready to grab a sponge for the floors…and walls and furniture and-“

“I got it, ill grab a few sponges” he muttered pushing his forehead to mine

“You know if you do it without complaining ill give you a reward later” i whispered to him

“What kind of reward?” He asked with a smile

“Perhaps you can take out your frustration on me? I may even get on my knees for you if you deserve such treatment” a low growl came from his throat as his arms circled my body

“Then we should really get started”



[doodledrawsthings]

Opinions on the Sols from Nine Sols immediately. Please. Your au is delish.

Keep in mind these are my very off-the-top-of-my-head, surface level impressions of them after having recently beaten the game on story mode once, while streaming. I won’t be giving any deep analysis or anything lol so the tone will be pretty jokey and unserious.

MAJOR major Nine Sols spoilers under the cut. Please do not read if you haven’t finished the game.

Kuafu: second favorite character. I love him so much. He’s such a pal, everybody likes him. Hou Yi left him as the final sun standing after shooting down the other nine cuz he’s just a stand up guy. The fact that he’s the one who pled keep Abacus around and set his settings to High Sympathy and kept coming in to talk to him out of guilt over what happened to Yi kills me. Smart, silly, handsome, the last remaining Solarian in existence and he can never go home for the remainder of his life. He’s my ride or die bestie, he’s one of my several husbands who babysit my little brother while I go off on a revenge murder spree and I’m kissing him on the mouth.

Goumang: I like her design and concepts and think she’s a fun character. She was the first boss I fought and i thought she was pretty fun, though I didn’t find the fight as memorable as others. I wish she had more presence throughout the game, I heard from a friend she had some more stuff that was cut apparently? Curious about her rivalry with Yi and relationship with Eigong. And since Yi technically never killled her I’ve considered including her in the Dont Worry About It AU.

Yanlao: Grampa!! I think he and Yi’s back and forth throughout the warehouse area was pretty funny. I was so ready to kick his ass the entire time, especially after the segment where he’s shooting at you as you navigate a maze. Loved his bossfight, first fight of the first three i started with where I really felt the parry/dodge/attack rhythm for the first time. Rip gramps.

Jiequan: BASTARD!! (Half-affectionate but only half) he’s giving Fruity Disney Villain Who Flirts With You As He Stabs You In The Chest. He sucks <3 but he’s such a FUN character, what a great antagonist. His fake out fight is so intense, the prison scene is so intense, his boss fight kicked my ass and his theme goes hard. He’s a war criminal, he’s a freak, he looks like All Might MHA and he regularly irradiates himself as part of his body building routine. “Heroes are forged in agony!” 10/10 Disney villain, very stylish. Defeating him was so satisfying especially after the Kanghui fight in the prison and learning what happened with THAT horror show.

Lady Ethereal: I LOVE HER!! SO MUCH!!! UGH!!! she makes me so sad! But everything about her is SO cool! Her fate! Her backstory!! Her design! Her boss fight! Her entire platforming area!!! Just!!! Aah! I won’t say too much but it’s just so good she had my favorite fight in the game, the dance for that one is so much fun. I was streaming the game on discord for my partner and another friend and when we first went into the cortex, she was like “oh you should keep going left and see what’s over there ;)” and then I did and just!!! So cool that Red Candle started off making horror games, it’s really great. Love it. Awesome character, awesome boss, awesome theme.

Fuxi and Nuwa: Rich asshole twins!! These two suck lol but I do think they’re fun characters. The entire empyrean district is experiencing a resident evil style zombie infection and Nuwa is throwing a rager at the club for the rich cryosleepers only. It’s really eerie over there though, I love the vibe of the east side and the discovery of the mutants and destruction of the west half is spooky as hell. And then I got to the area where you get Fuxi’s sol seal and didn’t even notice he was sitting there until my partner pointed him out. I thought he was furniture lol. She’s really puppeting around her brother’s pustule-riddled zombie corpse Weekend at Bernie’s style cuz she’s that much in denial. Also absolutely horrifying that the district supposedly once held 100,000 sleeping solarians that is whittled down to 300 after the mutated virus wreaks havoc through the area. Personally, I’m mixed on their bossfight, the first half with just Fuxi was fun once I got the rhythm but the 2nd half when Nuwa comes in with her attacks gets a bit too chaotic for me. Their boss theme, however, is probably my favorite in the game. I love the opera samples, it’s so cool.

Ji: I think about them a lot. Like, wow what a guy. I think a lot about his immortality, and that if he had not left Penglai with the council he would have been stuck there, alone for eternity. I think about the fact that because they will never get Tianhuo, there would be no need for them to be in cryosleep, which probably means that in the 502 years that Yi was recovering, he was probably up and about the entire time, probably wandering around new Kunlun mostly alone. I wonder if they ever hung out with the dusk guardians, or if they just stayed in the grotto for the most part. Their boss fight felt the most like a dance to me, or like friends sparring. Do you think they thought of Lear as you attacked them with the moves he taught you in the spiritual realm? He makes me sad, but he is very stylish!

Eigong: FUCK HER! SHES SO COOL, BUT FUCK HER!!! EVIL GRANDMA! this games story is like peeling back an onion of horrors where each layer you peel back brings new, mortifying understanding of the situation at large until it ALL. COMES BACK. TO HER! AND HER FRUITLESS PURSUIT OF IMMORTALITY! Her boss fight KICKED MY ASS. I was streaming my first playthrough, so I was already prone to doing worse than I probably would without an audience (emphasis on probably) but in my first attempt I was fighting her for like 6 HOURS STRAIGHT. And for the true ending too, which meant three boss phases. I just could not get her pattern down and my hands were cramping but i really wanted to finish the game that weekend so I could finally talk about it so I ended up turning up the accessibility options to one punch man her. I did eventually go back and do her fight by myself with the story mode settings and MAN what a fun boss battle once you get the dance down (I’m still so bad at unbound counter), and it is SO satisfying to beat. Incredible character, we love fictional old women who commit atrocities in the name of science.

Yi: and finally we have the man, the myth, the legend. I could probably write a whole separate post about him and Heng and his relationships with the other characters but to keep it short- I LOVE HIM SO MUCH! BUT IM ALSO BITING HIM AND PUTTING HIM IN A BLENDER AND RUNNING HIM THROUGH THE DISHWASHER AND HANGING HIM UP TO DRY. Just UGH! It’s not common for the main character of a thing to be my favorite character but Yi is my favorite character. It’s the fact that he is his own character, and we, the player, must gradually find out things that HE already knows. And his budding and flowering relationships with the other characters, especially those who set up shop in the pavillion which leads into his character development is just AUGH. AND THE ENDINGS. YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT GHE ENDINGS. THEYRE GOOD BUT AUGH. I love him, I’m rotating him in my mind on a skewer, he’s my little manlet, my poor little “I’m not a good person” shadow the hedgehog energy meow meow cat boy. I love him so much, I’m so distraught over his terrible life choices. Incredible character.

Ok hope that was entertaining to read, bye.

[kaynothanks]

Behind The Sun

Pairing: Finnick Odair x fem!Reader

Warnings: murder, a true killing spree really, angst, dark thoughts, it's dark in general (I need to call my therapist), Finnick is taller than reader, reader has hair, and a brother, this is my attempt at fulfilling my need for a good Finnick fic after the clips of the new movie have been haunting me everywhere (let’s ignore that this is basically a dead fandom)

Word-Count: 20k (it's worth it, trust me)

You found getting your hair cut loathsome. It was unbearable any day but this day it seemed especially gruesome; sitting still and pretending for just a few moments longer that the day was like any other. Usually, you would think about how your mother kept pulling at your hair too harshly or that her hands were shaking far too much for you to even let her get close to your hair. Though on this day, all you could think about was the pair of scissors in her hands. Inconspicuous some might think, yet in your district you knew better.

Your hands shook at the thought of what the tributes from districts like One or Two could do with something as simple as a pair of scissors. You hissed in shock as your mother twirled your hair into a tight bun at the back of your head, frowning at hair through the mirror. She didn’t look at you, she didn’t look up at all.

Her shaking hands she placed on your shoulders, hesitating to face your reflection. The smile she forced was painful to witness. "It's going to be fine, after today, it's only one more year." Her smile faltered, realizing that your brother had to endure his first Reaping today and many more would follow.

She looked into the mirror, watching your brother who sat on the floor trying to get his light stick to work again. Some of the boys had built them themselves out of old parts the factories rendered useless. They would often sneak outside in the evenings to draw patterns into the air by swinging their light sticks—though your mother hadn’t allowed your brother to go recently, since his light stick blew up last time. Faulty wiring.

To redirect her attention, you laid your hand atop hers and smiled a forced smile, too. "It's going to be okay. His name is in there only once." Yours was in there over twenty times. You had signed up for Tesserae and claimed it multiple times throughout the last few years for yourself, your mother, your father, and your brother. "We should head out," you said and stood, grabbing your brother's attention. "The Reaping's going to start soon."

Your brother whined in protest. "I don’t wanna go. They're gonna hurt my finger."

You snorted and held your hand out for him to take. "It's just a prick, you'll barely even feel." Bidding his light stick goodbye, he grabbed your hand, letting himself be pulled up from the floor.

"You look funny," he commented, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"Yeah?" You questioned and tugged at his shirt, neatly stuffed into his pants. It was such a difference from his usual attire, consisting of dirt-stained trousers and ripped shirts. "So do you."

Walking beside your mother and brother, you could spot the red banners with the golden sigil hanging from the Justice Building from afar. A way for the government to proudly display Panem's power; forcing every citizen of District Five to attend—with the exemption of those too ill to make their way here. Dozens of cameras were set up around the premises.

Entering the square, you stood in line, waiting for registration with government officials. Giving a drop of blood was a strict requirement, a method used to identify the people of District Five. Your brother stood beside you, clearly fidgety. He hated needles and the sight of blood, too.

"Atlas," you whispered and your brother turned his anxious eyes to you. "Want me to slap you when the needle hits? You won't even notice the pinch." Laughing at him frowning at you, you gave his shoulder a shove. "My offer stands, just so you know."

You and he stepped up to the tables at the same time and you grinned brightly when he looked back at you, as though he was actually considering taking you up on your offer. Paying no mind to the man in white, you looked around. Many children stood already in their dedicated section, though none of them wore even just a hint of a smile. Understandably so, you thought. It was the first day of a fight for life and death and with just a little too much bad luck, it was one of their lives on the line. Your mother was already out of sight and when you were about to walk toward the front, where the oldest children gathered, a hand wrapped around yours.

You looked down at your brother—he was catching up to you rather quickly in height, you noticed.

"I don’t want to go alone."

 Once more you forced a smile. "It's only for a little while, okay? And after this is over, I'll help you make a killer light stick, how's that sound?"

"With flickering lights and all?"

"With flickering light and everything else you can think of," you agreed and saw his face lighten up immediately. He nodded excitedly and bounced off to the far back of the male section. You walked close to the front and stood beside a girl from your classes. On the stage in front of the Justice Building stood Mayor Ward Smith and beside him the district escort, Twila Hearst. Behind them remained two of the previous District Five victors. Ivette Li-Sanchez, victor of the 50th Hunger Games, and James Logan, victor of the 43rd. James Logan by now was almost completely bald and had a limp in his step. You remembered everyone telling you about how much that man was admired back in the day.

Ivette had won her games at fifteen, making her now thirty. Although she looked far younger. Perhaps the Capitol was treating her fairly well, after all.

Mayor Smith stepped towards the microphone and smiled, spreading his arms in welcome. He thanked everyone for their attendance as if anyone had a say in the matter and started reciting the founding history of Panem not a second later. He covered everything as though he himself was a history teacher before moving on to the beginning of the Hunger Games and its rules. Warden Smith spoke of it as if there was nothing more graceful than becoming a tribute, sprouting off his mouth what spoils and riches come with victory. His eyes shifted down to a piece of paper as he read off the names of your district's previous Hunger Games victors.

It was good to know he cared enough to remember them by heart.

Introducing Twila Hearst he waited for some kind of applause, although quickly stepped aside upon noticing none was to come. Twila, too, appraised all the potential tributes and made some idle comments to not seem too excited about what was to follow. "Whom should we start this year with?" She questioned happily, putting her hands by her ears to signal she wanted the crowd to decide. A few female voices called out men as if the few seconds they gained by the male tribute being picked first made any difference.

"The men this year?" She gasped and opened her orange-painted lips in shock, not being able to hide her smirk. "Whatever happened to ladies first?" Stepping over to the Reaping Bowl filled with solely male names, she clapped. "But I'll give what the people demand!" Sticking her hand in the bowl, she fumbled around for far too long; a meaningless and cruel try to build up any more suspense as though the hope to walk away alive wasn’t channeling enough tension as it was.

She pulled a slip from deep within the bowl and opened it, reading the name first for herself before leaning towards the microphone. "Atlas Thornbury!" She called out and peered out into the crowd of gathered males, trying to make out if anybody had started walking towards the stage. "Atlas Thornbury, come up here my boy!"

You hadn’t registered at first. Hadn’t even paid attention, really. That flicker of hope you had held within your chest kept assuring you that once again you would walk away. When your mind caught up, you felt as though you could breathe. Your heart thundered against your ribcage as your head whipped from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of your brother. The girl from your class put a hand on your shoulder, trying to offer some kind of reassurance that all would be okay, though you knew it would not. He was barely a twelve-year-old boy, so thin he almost looked sickly. Atlas wouldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t survive. He would die. Die alone in a cage made for punishment and entertainment of the rich folk.

Peacekeepers were on the move the second your brother stepped out of line and escorted him to the front of the stage. You heard crying, you thought, or perhaps it was only your mind playing tricks, offering you a reaction of what you could do instead of staring panic-stricken. In your haze, you had missed Twila introducing Atlas to the rest of Panem and moving on to picking the female tribute.

She cleared her throat, the slip with the name already grasped loosely between her fingers. You swallowed and watched your brother in a state of paralysis. Even though you saw her lips move; you heard nothing. Nothing but your own blood rushing through your system, as you forcefully pushed the pitying hand off your shoulder and stepped out of line.

"I volunteer as Tribute!"

All heads snapped toward you as some Peacekeepers sprinted forward, keeping you from walking any further. You shoved them off, trying to get to the stage—to your brother, who was shaking so much you were sure he would break at any moment. Twila continued her blabbering but you ignored all. Ignored the whispers around you and pitiful glances and your mother's screams from all the way at the back, crying about both her children being taken from her in a split second.

You had barely stepped onto the stage when your brother's arms wrapped themselves around your waist. His cries shook his body weakly as you put your hands around his head. A tear fell from your eye before you could stop it.

Nothing was going to be okay.

When the ceremony was over, both of you were taken into custody and led into the Justice Building to a room that held more riches than perhaps the whole of District Five. Your mother was brought into the room by some Peacekeepers and you tried your hardest to soothe her wails and ceaseless cries. Though it was hard, when all you were left to feel was a shattering numbness. It didn’t matter anymore. You were going to die. And with that realization, you swore you would fight for your brother to your last breath and beyond.

---

You had never been on a train. Not that you had ever had the chance or permission to. Only those of the Capitol and those reaped had the chance. You didn’t know if you liked the feeling of not having still ground beneath your feet. The thought of moving so quickly without actually noticing the speed made you itch uncomfortably.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Twila asked, cutting herself a tiny piece of meat before bringing it to her mouth.

You looked to her, to your brother—who was stuffing his face with pastries—and to the two previous victors. "No."

"Well, then," Logan clapped and stood. He was the only one who, too, had refused to eat. "We should talk strategies." He walked over to a small table where different bottles of very expensive alcohol were arranged and poured himself half a glass of scotch. "Any skills or special talents we should be aware of?"

Atlas lifted his hand the same way he would in school and waited to be called on. "I make killer light sticks."

Logan looked confused. "What?"

"Toys," you responded in a hiss with half a mind to toss the table. "He makes toys."

 "What about you?" Logan questioned. "Any talents?"

"No."

"I think I'm getting a tummy ache," Atlas complained and put down the pastry he was holding. You told him to go to his room and lie down a bit since it wouldn’t be too long before your arrival at the Capitol.

When he was gone you fixed the adults with a stern gaze. "We can all go on and pretend that you actually believe we stand a chance or drop the act and acknowledge the fact that we are as good as dead already."

Ivette snorted and your head whipped to the other side of the table. "Oh, angry girl, if there is anyone I believe will win, it's you."

You ignored the nickname and scoffed. "I think we already established that I don’t have any skills or talents or even a chance. If I were you, I'd lower my expectations."

She put down the cutlery and leaned forward. "You have anger, and trust me, that's enough." Ivette didn’t give you a chance to respond as she stood and turned on a big screen hanging from the wall. "Why don’t we see who you'll be competing against, hm?"

Clips of other Reapings played; the Career Districts first, showing how they fought over who got to volunteer this year. "Many volunteers this year," Ivette commented as the next clip started to play. District Four. A young boy stepped out of line, and you thought he resembled your brother quite a bit, when another male stepped out of line, volunteering for the boy. When you stayed silent, Ivette sighed. "I didn’t have any skills upon entering, either. But I learned because I had to. And you will, too. We both know you have something to fight for."

You stared at her and she stared right back. Leaning back in your chair, you gripped the plush armrest tightly. "Tell me what to do to keep him alive and I'll do it."

---

Upon arriving at the Capitol, you and your brother were brought to the City Circle, the center of the Capitol, where the Remake Center was located.

A group of extravagantly dressed personas stood with broad grins on their faces, waiting for your arrival. You and your brother were handed a blue rope each and were hurried inside to change. They separated you then, bringing you to a room with a metal surface to lie on. You were hesitant but the prep team gave you no room to argue, tutting you as though you were no more than a mindless child. Laying there, you let them do your nails, wax your brows, and remove every inch of body hair you had before they stuck you in a tub with cold water. When you shivered, they laughed, tutting you again, telling you if you had hurried it would have been warmer.

Afterward, they did your hair and added make-up and then told you to wait for the head stylist to arrive. You had the prep team repeatedly tell you why they were dressing you up, and each time they replied with sponsors. According to them, getting sponsors was crucial to the survival of the Games.

You shook with anger at being presented to the Capitol like a piece of meat, dolled up ridiculously in order to meet their beauty standards.

When the head stylist arrived the other members of the prep team brought in a laughably big gown that was completely transparent. "I'm not wearing that," you argued but the head stylist only raised his brow. "I'll be naked."

"It hurts my feelings that you'd think my execution of the power district would be done so poorly." He clapped and walked away. "Help her get dressed."

The prep team sprung into action, pulling you along with them before they stood on stools to let the dress down onto your body from higher above. You frowned at yourself. Not because you looked like a cloud of translucent puffiness, but because you had never worn anything feeling as comfortable as this gown. The material was indescribably soft on your skin and so light you could barely tell it was there in the first place.

You moved the tiniest bit and suddenly the dress turned a solid silver color. The head stylist came back with a headpiece in hand that was a mix between a crown and a halo. Your mouth fell open in hesitation. "Isn't this a little too—"

"Provocative?" He grinned and picked up a spray bottle of silver body paint. "Good."

Everything on your body was doctored to perfection; your eyelashes now had the length of half your pinky finger, your lips were drawn to look fuller with a vibrant metal shimmer, and your body to your neck up was covered in silver paint, sparkling notoriously when the sunlight hit you directly. When you looked up into the sky, it was a clear blue with no hint of darkness and you wondered if District Five was as dark as it was because the Capitol had stolen the sun. When the prep team was finally done with you and your brother, it was the late afternoon and you were immediately led along to the center of the City Circle. The other Tributes were gathered there already, standing beside black chariots drawn by night-shaded horses.

Hundreds of Capitol citizens had gathered along the Avenue of Tributes, chanting their favorite districts or just simply the word Hunger. The shouts echoed in your ear as whatever your brother was telling you faded into the background. Your eyes fell from Tribute to Tribute as blood rushed through your ears. Whom of them would you kill? Who would kill you? The pace of your breathing picked up as your hand fell to your stomach; you felt like your lungs were granting no more air to enter and the dress now appeared to be nothing but a cage.

A loud laughter snapped you out of your trance and your head whipped to where the roaring sound came from. A tall blonde male stood beside an old woman, who playfully slapped him on the arm while gifting him with a stern look that held no anger whatsoever. You tried recalling the names of the Tributes, which Logan and Ivette had spent over an hour teaching you, yet you were not sure when it came to him.

The girl beside him, the other tribute of District Four, was Adella. Both Tributes appeared mature enough to be over sixteen at last, perhaps eighteen even. As though he could feel your eyes glaring into his back, he shifted his gaze toward where you stood. Curiosity taking over the slight feeling of shame, you continued mustering him, wondering if he volunteered because he wanted to partake in the games as a Career or because he had felt true compassion for the little boy who had been chosen.

A sharp pain coursed through your arm as your head flew to look at the spot. Your brother's fingers were lingering close by to the piece of skin he had just pinched. You scowled at him, but he only nodded toward the head stylist standing in front of you. Redness arose at the back of your neck as you noticed he had been talking to you all along. He held his hand extended toward you, a small device in it. You took it without asking and waited for any kind of instruction.

"Press it when you're about halfway along."

"Why?"

He blinked at you and took it back in a flash, grimacing at the fact that you had questioned him once again. "I'll do it myself." He hurried you onto the chariot designated for District Five and patted both your shoulders. "Don’t forget to smile." Your brother nodded in agreement, though you stayed still.

Rhythmic pounding of drums joined the echoing chants and suddenly it seemed your pulse thrummed only after their beat. Chariot after chariot got to moving. Your district was almost in the middle, not too far behind and not too close to the front, and yet it wasn’t enough time to prepare you for the sight of thousands of people surrounding you.

When you had barely made it three feet onto the Avenue, you gripped your brother's hand. "Don’t smile," you told him, not taking your eyes off the spectacle before you.

"But he said—"

"I know what he said. I just don’t care." You did care. You cared that you didn’t want to give anybody the satisfaction of seeing even a flash of happiness about what they were doing to you. You refused to play into sick games, refused to just accept a punishment you didn’t deserve since it was for a rebellion that happened decades ago. It had not been your fight and the districts losing it and being brought close to extinction, for you, seemed to be punishment enough. The districts did not have anything else to give anymore and still, the Capitol took and took, and you knew they would never stop. Not without being stopped.

You would not play along. You would fight, but not for their entertainment or promised riches, but for your survival, your brother's survival, and the slim chance to bring him back to your mother safely.

Something happened then. You hadn’t noticed it at first, too caught up in the stream of your furious thoughts when gasps sounded and the applause went raging. Looking around, you tried spotting the cause, when your brother looked you up and down with big eyes. You peeked downward, spotting the previously silver dress had turned into a stream of bright, flowing electricity. It wasn’t a mere dress anymore; it was pulsing with life—with power. The long hemline of the dress, which was so long, it was close to dragging on the floor, was sprouting sparks of electricity, just like the back of your brother's suit. You could see other tributes in front of you looking up at the screens, wanting to know what all the hype was about.

The chariots gathered at the end of the avenue, standing in perfect rows and you wondered how often these horses had gone through this process. President Snow stood, walked forward, and bathed in the attention he was getting from the citizens of the Capitol. He stood high above the Tributes and for a second you found yourself thinking about how long he would fall, if someone were to shove him.

"Welcome," he spoke, his voice sounding through all the avenue. "Tributes, we welcome you. We salute your courage and your sacrifice, and we wish you happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!" Not a moment after he had finished his little speech, the chariots were on the move again, drawing you back to where you had come from.

Stepping off the chariot, your dress was back to plain silver, though you had no time to ponder it when you were approached by Logan, Ivette, and Twila.

"Well, that was something," Logan commented and Ivette grimaced. "I thought the strategy was to—" He halted when he noticed other Tributes eyeing you curiously, and certainly not in friendly spirits. "Let's get you two to your apartments, we'll talk more when you don’t look like aluminum foil."

You were brought to the training center, where you would be staying in apartments for the week of your training. All the riches that were kept from the district were perhaps gathered in the Tributes' apartments—or at least whatever the parsimonious Capitol could bear to spare.

You had barely washed off the silver paint and slipped into some linen pants when there was a small, careful knock on your door. Opening it, you found your brother standing there donning clothes just as comfortable as your own. Smeared streaks of silver paint were still covering his face. He hesitated, towel in hand. "Can you help me?"

"Well, I'll need something in return."

He huffed annoyed. "What do you want?"

"You see, there is this buffet down in the cafeteria, and I'd really hate to go alone."

"There is more free food?" Atlas squeaked as if it was the best news he had ever gotten to hear. Which for him it might have been. Back home there wasn’t a lot of food to go around. "I hope they have more pastries. You have to try those!"

"We'll see." You still weren't hungry and the thought of eating any meal they served made you feel as if you were having an executioner's meal.

---

A lot of Tributes seemingly chose to avoid the chance to socialize with the enemy. A few empty metal tables stood spread around the room—you chose the one at the far back, not wanting to draw any more attention to you after what had happened at the Tribute Parade. Atlas was off before you had even sat down, going straight to the pastry table.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to mother him and tell him he should eat real food, but you didn’t want to take any specks of happiness he had left.

He came back with one or two pastries on his plate, saying he had found they had many kinds of meats to choose from and he wanted to try them all. You nodded along to everything he said, offering a smile here and there so you wouldn’t seem too disconnected from the conversation. With other tributes in the room, you just couldn’t focus on anything but the warning flashes in your mind, reminding you that danger was imminent.

Atlas pulled at your hand then, dragging you to the buffet, lecturing you on not eating all day. You snorted. Who was mothering whom now? Only because of his demands did you fill your plate with some of the many dishes to choose from. Atlas appeared content enough with the action and went on to load his own plate.

At the table, you pushed the food on your plate around aimlessly, poking some vegetables and cutting some meat without actually bringing it to your tongue. You felt sick to your stomach.

"You know," a voice said from behind you, amusement weirdly prominent in his tone. "There is a funny fact about food."

Peeking over your shoulder, you came face to face with the District Four male. And, seemingly, the arrogant smile was sewn onto his face. Not one moment you had seen him without it. A mask well crafted, you thought. You should perhaps hone your own; letting the Capitol know you loathed them wasn’t the smartest of moves to pull when you required their help. Sponsorships and all that.

"Interesting, truly," you said and turned back around, yet somehow you had the feeling you wouldn’t be able to shake him off so easily.

He sat across from you; plate loaded to the brim with maybe every kind of dish they offered. "It's supposed to be consumed with your mouth, not the eyes." Grinning, he shoved a piece of steak into his mouth. He groaned in exaggerated delight, making you raise your brow. "I've had fish for almost every meal for the past eighteen years, I'm going to spend the rest of it bathing in ribeye."

However long that may be, you thought, your eyes moving to find your brother still waiting in line. "You volunteered," you spoke then before you could think about it.

"Well, I guess I'm not the only one, am I?"

"Do you consider yourself a Career?"

The blonde snorted. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He eyed someone over your shoulder and leaned in. "Not yet." Leaning back, he brought another cut piece of red meat to his lips. The District Four male nodded to your untouched plate. "Why aren't you eating?"

"They are serving us our last meals day in and day out as if it's gonna change anything about the fact that they want to see us slaughter each other. I can happily do without their insincere gestures of atonement."

"You really do not like the Capitol, do you, Spark?"

"And you do?"

He didn’t answer, forking himself another piece of food before pointing at your plate. "Are you going to eat that?" Understanding his inquiry, you shoved the plate across the table just as Atlas reappeared.

"Hello," your brother greeted and surprisingly set his plate right next to the man. "I'm Atlas."

The male nodded as if he didn’t already know and extended his hand. "Finnick."

"I know!" Your brother exclaimed. "You volunteered for the other boy. That was nice."

Finnick smiled and yet, you could clearly spot the pity in his eyes. Perhaps his mask wasn’t so perfectly crafted after all. Atlas' eyes found your plate across the table, no item of food missing. He frowned at you and deeply so. "Mom would be so mad at you right now." You wanted to tell him that he could tell on you all he wanted when you got him home. But with Finnick sitting across from you, you didn’t dare speak the words and let him see the doubt written across your face. "Can you at least eat the vegetables?" Atlas whined. "You always make me."

"Fine, but you're getting yourself a serving of them, too."

"Deal!" He jumped off the bench, grabbing himself another plate, and stepped into the short line again.

"I'm sorry," Finnick said out of the blue, drawing your attention back to him.

You swallowed, the corners of your mouth dropping low as you gave a slight nod, eyes finding your brother's form. "Me too."

---

The gymnasium was huge. The diversity of stations ranged from simple survival training with plants and berries to camouflage and all kinds of weaponry you had never known existed. All Tributes had gotten an orientation by the Head Trainer, with a rundown of all available stations and rules.

You were allowed to move freely in the gymnasium, socialize or spend the time however you pleased, though, under no circumstances, were you allowed to fight any other Tributes while training. Strictly forbidden was partaking in any combat exercises with each other. Experts were available to partner up with if anyone fancied a session.

Surrounding the whole of the gymnasium was one balcony, from where the Gamemakers observed closely the skills and talents of each tribute.

You had been training for a few days now, though while the other Tributes actively used their time in the gymnasium, Ivette had been giving you private sessions. She and Logan thought it best to go with the strategy of deception—to make everyone think you were harmless, useless. You had learned the basics with every other Tribute; what the weapons were called, how they were used, and so on.

Though mostly while others trained, you stayed close by your brother, observing him when in training with the head trainer and when he was aimlessly throwing knives and other weapons around, too. Once or twice, you spared a glance toward the balcony, finding the Gamemakers eyeing the action of your brother in amusement. For them, his life truly was nothing more than a plaything.

On the last day of training, you stood by your brother once more, trying to help him with throwing knives, although you found you weren't the best teacher. Another knife clunked to the floor without sticking in the target and you huffed. Ivette made teaching look so easy. You had picked the movements up in seconds but now trying to explain them seemed futile. With the other Tributes close by, you couldn’t even show Atlas the correct way of doing it or you would be on the brink of blowing Logan and Ivette's whole strategy.

"You need more force," you said, causing Atlas to stick his tongue out toward you, clearly annoyed and tired.

"You keep saying that, but it's not working! Just admit you don’t know what you're doing!"

"Spark's right," a—by now—familiar voice commented and you lit up in appreciation for Finnick's affirmation. "If you draw your hand back further, you're gonna get it." Atlas positioned himself the way Finnick told him to, looking at the older male for approval. The blonde nodded with a wink, showing your brother the hand movement again, just in case. Without waiting for Finnick to give the go, Atlas hurled the knife straight forward, and to your surprise—and your brother's, too—it bored itself into the target. It was far off from the point where it optimally should have hit, but a win was a win.

Finnick and you stepped away, letting your brother try by himself. The District Four male frowned down at you. "Why haven't you been training?"

"I… I did train," you protested, pointing to the countless survival stations. "I finished all of those."

He seemed truly worked up over it. "Those won't help when anybody comes after you."

"Are you planning to?" You joked, yet you weren't sure you were joking at all. When no reply followed you huffed and flared your arms. "I had never held a weapon before the beginning of the week. There is no way I could learn how to handle any of them, so I just… don't." You shrugged, trying to ignore the furious disbelief in his sea-green eyes.

"I thought you would do everything to protect your brother."

Again, your shoulders raised and fell. "Reality triumphed hope."

He shook his head and stormed off, leaving you to stare after him speechlessly. You still hadn’t gotten your answer. Would he come after you? He had conversed with you every day at every evening meal since the beginning of the week. Though ignored you most of the time when other Tributes were in proximity. Under any other circumstances, you were sure he would have been a friend. Not a fiend out for blood. You shook off your dense thoughts. Of course, he would come after you. It was the game, after all.

---

You felt like a dog, waiting to dance and show off whatever training you had received, hoping to get some kind of acknowledgment—a treat, expressed in a score number, which wouldn’t completely tank your chances at getting more sponsors. Apparently, you had a good amount of them already, so much so, that Logan felt confident that you would at least survive a few days in the arena.

His explanation of the statement was, that if the other tributes didn’t want to lose sponsors at the very beginning of the game, they would have to let you live since all of Panem seemed taken by you from the moment your dress lit up. He and Ivette had decided to tweak their strategy for you after getting word of the number of sponsors eagerly awaiting your test scores. They had told you not to hold back.

Your brother went before you. Atlas was gone for about ten minutes, before coming out with a bright grin, whispering a quick assurance that each throwing knife had hit the target. When you went in, you were met with nothing but playful chattering. Looking up at the balcony, you found that not a single person was paying attention to you. You frowned. Yes, in the training sessions, you had barely taken part in, but they could at least show some goddamned respect. They were going to kill you for their pure amusement.

Your nostrils flared as you walked to the table holding the weapons. Picking up a spear, you turned the perfectly balanced stick of metal over in your hand and took place across from the human-shaped target. For the week, Ivette had trained you hour upon hour, making sure you knew every movement, every stance, every impression there was to take in. Drawing your arm back, you focused your eyes, found the middle of the target, and hurled the spear forward. It hit the target with such force a good part of it went all the way through and was now poking out at the back of the thick target. And yet, none of them even spared you a glance.

You scoffed in disbelief, looking around for anything else that would get their attention until your eyes landed on a silver box on the wall. Peeking at the Gamemakers once more, you checked if they had at least acknowledged your existence by now, but no. Gripping a small knife from the table, you went over to the box and broke it open. Fuses, wires—a lot of wires. It was all you had been schooled in back in District Five.

You ripped out the see-through plastic wall that the wires were tugged away behind and pulled a handful of them out. Sorting them, you lined them up, lifted the knife, and cut straight through them. Everything went black. Panicked shouts followed as all of them struggled to see. Hard thing to do with the cables cut not only from the main source of power but the backup generators, too. The fuses you turned off, as you pulled at the two cables you had memorized and connected them. Turning the right fuse back on, a single source of light, focused only on one spot in the gymnasium, turned back on.

Their eyes were on you now, as you stood illuminated in a pool of darkness and threw the knife you were holding straight at the target's head. Angered and interested their attention fell from the twice perfectly penetrated target to you as you bowed with an annoyed grimace and left the room. Peacekeepers pushed past you, probably thinking you had ambushed and killed all the Gamemakers and there was a part in you—not small, not unconscious, not obscure—that wished you had. The men in white suits eyed you suspiciously, but you paid them no mind, more focused on the red flickering lights in the hallway. You hummed. There were more generators. The rest of the Tributes still waiting to be called in for their evaluations mustered you as you went past with your head held high, not giving away if you were the reason for the power failure. You went back to the apartment which for the day remained yours, only to find Atlas already waiting patiently in front of the TV.

You weren't sure if your brother had spent even just a single day at his apartment. It was right across the hall and yet it seemed to be too far for him. "You know they will be announced in the evening, right?"

He huffed. "I just wanna know what they thought. I handle the knives so well—just like Finnick showed me! They have to give me an okay score." Atlas only then appeared to remember that you had had your evaluation, too. "Do you think yours went well? What did you show them?"

You hesitated, not sure if your action had ruined your chances at a remotely fine training score. "I threw a knife, too." You shrugged. "We'll see what they thought about my performance in a few hours."

Taking a look at the clock, you grabbed a jacket and signed for your brother to follow. You were to spend the day with Ivette and Logan for them to prepare you for your interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Both of your mentors thought you were in dire need of training when it came to proper etiquette. Logan and Ivette had schooled you for hours, trying to get you to show a somewhat flirty, yet mysterious persona, which Caesar Flickerman and the rest of the Capitol would eat up. Twila then busied herself with scorning and arguing with you over the ways of proper etiquette. Deeming you readied enough, they put their attention on Atlas, letting you off the leash that you were on—you weren't more than a lapdog by now, after all.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Atlas was peacefully sleeping beside you and every time your eyes remotely closed, you jolted awake, scared you would wake in the arena, where harm lured, waiting to take your brother. You knew, of course, the arena was yet another day away, you wouldn’t just wake there, but telling yourself it over and over again didn’t help one bit. Too anxious, you stood and slipped on a rope. Downstairs they had food, you thought. Perhaps after days of barely eating anything, you needed some sugar to calm your nerves. Peacekeepers were stationed in and around the building; the only reason why they allowed the Tributes to move freely within. Although they were a little weary now, since on day four, a District Seven male had tried to escape. They had caught him, naturally, and made an example out of him, too. He had been whipped. Cruelly and gruesomely, with no hint of mercy, only swings filled with content.

The Peacekeepers had no interest in peace, you thought. They were sadists to some degree, jumping at every chance to punish, and even to kill. Their title and position in the Capitol's food chain gave them no limitations. In the name of the Capitol, in the name of President Snow, they had said, and chained the poor male up—as if he wouldn’t be fighting for his life soon enough—and hurled thinly threaded metal cord across his back. They had left him to bleed there, unconscious and shivering.

The cafeteria stood empty, not even a Peacekeeper was bothered to keep watch. You hesitated as you gripped a plate from the high stack and went over to the different dishes. Some of them were stored away in coolers, while others still shimmered over low heat, keeping them warm and prepared, in case any Tribute experienced nightly cravings. You did exactly what Atlas had done the past few days, and went straight for the pastries.

"So, this is how you do it, huh?" An amused voice hummed. "You have tricked us all, pretending to starve yourself, when in reality, you sneak down here at night."

"Yes, Finnick," you played along. "You have finally uncovered my deepest, darkest secret." Cocking your head, you stalked to a table and set the plate down before turning to look at him. "What are you going to do with it?" Finnick's broad form was leaning against the doorway. His blonde locks were a clear mess, giving away that you hadn't been the only one tossing and turning.

He only grinned, turning his head downward, before pushing himself off the doorway. Finnick made his way over to the table, halting close to you. Closer than you had ever been, you noticed. Perhaps the nightly distress had made him unhinged, his impulses winning over the schooled restraint, which usually kept him so well in check.

Seeing Finnick's agents not totally in balance was a true rarity. There was only one other time he had let his guard down. An accident, you guessed, when he had slipped up and his frustration had gotten the better of him.

"I have always been curious about secrets, you know?" He went on, studying your face for any sign of discomfort at his nighness.

"Isn't that just a fancy way of saying you are nosy?"

Finnick chuckled. "I know a lot of them, too. The other Tributes'. They are quite open after some sweet-talking."

"Of course, if anyone were to get anything out of them, it would be you."

"Do you want a little pre-view?" In his grin you found true excitement, something you hadn’t seen too often from him. Finnick wearing anything true on his face was reserved more moments like this; moments of intimacy. Goosebumps arose on your arm, thinking that in the span of mere hours, all of it was gone. He wouldn’t be helping your brother perfect his fighting skills, wouldn’t help you righten your stance with gentle, cheeky touches, wouldn’t come at you with a grin, but a raised weapon, ready to tint it with your blood.

You wanted everything to be different. You wanted it so badly, it hurt deep within your chest. A stinging sensation you hadn’t felt since the day Atlas' name had been called by Twila on the day of the Reaping. It seemed like so long ago, though it had only been one week.

You shook your head. "Best to keep secrets to yourself. You don’t want them to lose their worth."

"Why do I feel like sweet talking won't get me any of yours?"

You shrugged. "Maybe I just don’t have any."

Finnick took another step closer and you turned your head up a bit, to be able to look him in the eyes. "I don’t believe that for a second."

"Then I guess you'll just have to live without mine."

"How gruesome of you, Spark," he said, leaning forward, putting his hand flat on the metal table behind you. It might just have been the first cage you did not mind being in. "To tease me so."

You swallowed; your throat suddenly dried of any words. A shaky breath of air flowed from your lips as your back pressed into the metal table. Out of reflex, you put your hand in front of yourself, landing it directly on his hard chest. You averted your gaze, turning your head downward. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to compose yourself, though it proved challenging with his chest heaving beneath your touch just as quickly as your own. Rough fingers, prone by the hard labor of District Four, gripped your chin, turning it back upward. There was no way of escaping him now; no way of escaping yourself.

You caved then, with a defeated breath and he saw right through you. He kissed you, mouth hungry and tinged with the desperation of escaping the leering reality that none of you could change. With his strong arm, he helped you atop the table, his body slotting against your own perfectly. Finnick groaned against your mouth, as your thighs tightened around him, pulling his body closer to you. His arm wrapped around your hip and you gasped against his lips as you felt him pressing his crotch into yours. It was messy and heated and overwhelming until it all stopped. Both of you pulled away in order to catch your breath and Finnick let his forehead fall against yours.

Suddenly a tear dropped onto your cheek and a sob forced its way from your mouth. "I can’t let him die," you cried and shook your head so forcefully you were getting dizzy. Everything you had been holding back from the moment Atlas' name had echoed through District Five broke loose. "He's only twelve years old. He is a child. He can't—" You stuttered along as Finnick pulled you into him. The embrace wasn’t solely for your comfort, you knew, you felt it. Felt all the fear he kept so well hidden. You wrapped your arms around his neck, locking him in just as tight as his arms engulfed you so desperately you felt it seeping into your skin. For a second, you felt safe then, with his arms giving you just enough space to hide away in.

Finnick placed his hand on either side of your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. Opening his mouth, he was about to say something, when steps sounded outside of the cafeteria. Startled, he distanced himself from you, making it look like he hadn’t acknowledged your presence, as you hopped off the table. A Peacekeeper entered, followed by the District Eight male Tribute.

You left the cafeteria then, throwing a quick look over your shoulder only to find that Finnick was paying you no mind. Wiping whatever was left of your tears yourself, you hurried back to your apartment. Atlas was still sleeping peacefully as you sat at the edge of the bed, facing him. In this state, he looked so much like his younger self. It was all you saw in him now, too aware that his life might be cut short. Instead of seeing his future, you only saw his past. Remembered the first day your mother had put a fussy baby in your arms that you were so deadly jealous of. It was a weird feeling. Feeling such a surge of love for someone you had barely known half a day and yet, you had felt discontent when seeing your mother and father with him. Loving him the way they had previously held reserved only for you.

And then a few years later, your father had died. Your mother was so devastated she hadn’t been able to get out of bed for months. You were to one to take care of Atlas, you were the one to hold him while he was crying and your arms were the ones, he fell asleep in. Not able to help yourself, you extended your hand and brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.

You were ready, had been since the first day you had laid eyes on him. You were ready to die for him.

---

The next day, your prep team once again spent the whole day forcing a make-over on you, plucking hairs and eradicating blackheads, all the while shushing your complaints. It was only when they were done that the head stylist, Lazarus, made an appearance. In his hand, he was holding the dress specifically created for you. Top till mid-thigh it was black, with blue shimmering mesh fabric running down to the floor.

He held it out for you to take, knowing you wouldn’t argue this time—you wouldn’t have won the argument anyway. After the prep team had helped you get into the garment, they tugged long gloves onto your arms, made out of the same mesh blue fabric as the bottom of the dress.

Lazarus signed for them to leave you then and you frowned. Your eyes followed him intensely as he checked around to see if anyone was close by. Silver hair glimmering in the fluorescent lighting, he made his way back.

"A source informed me Caesar is dropping some big news tonight during your interview," he spoke lowly. "They didn’t say exactly what it was, but I didn’t want you to be too surprised."

"Is it about back home?" You asked, swallowing. Was your mother all right?

"No," Lazarus assured and tugged at the waistline of the dress to pull it into place. "Something about the Games." When he was done, he stepped away and stared at the piece of art he had created. "I was surprised by your score." At the sudden change of topic, the thoughts of your mother vanished.

"Why? Thought it would be low?"

"Yes, actually," he admitted. "District Five usually doesn’t score above a five. Let alone a ten." He looked almost proud, you thought. "A lot of people will be furious for betting against you."

"Did you?"

"Let's just say, if you die, I'm going to be a homeless man." Lazarus wore a small grin on his face, ruffling his silver locks until suddenly he turned serious once more. "You need to be careful with what you say or do from here on out."

Your forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why?"

"Things have been different in the Districts since your Reaping." His voice got even quieter. "There is scattered talk that the Capitol is scared your death or your brother's might start another revolution."

"A revolution?" You asked shocked and shook your head. "That doesn’t make any sense. A lot of children have been reaped before and no one seemed to care. Why would anything change now?"

"It is already changing," he said. "Since the day of the Reaping the whippings in the Districts have more than doubled. A platoon of Peacekeepers has been sent to every District because they couldn’t keep the people down anymore." He took your hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "The Capitol has a target on your back already, only they can't allow themselves the shot. You can’t step out of line, not yet at least."

A voice shouted, letting you know a car was waiting to bring you to your interview. The car ride was silent, not even your brother or Twila were babbling along this time. At the studio, Peacekeepers were waiting to take you inside but before they could sweep you away, Logan stopped them. "Remember what we talked about?"

You huffed. "Yes."

"What did we talk about?"

"No swearing."

"And?"

"I really love the Capitol."

"Good girl," he grinned and stepped away to catch up with Ivette and Twila. "Go!" He called over his shoulder. "But don’t be yourself!"

Against your expectations, everywhere in the studio—except for the stage—was a cloud of grimness lingering. Not even the people working on the show carried the Capitol's flashy personas. The Tributes stood in a lean line by the wall, waiting to be called up and by the looks of it, you were the last to arrive. You cleared your throat as you made your way towards the front, halting awkwardly before Finnick and the District Six female Tribute. All the Tributes moved back to make space for you and your brother.

The Careers went first, talking about how grateful they were to have this opportunity to fulfill their dream. They raved about how great the Capitol was to come up with these Games and how excited they felt about the following day. You wanted to slap every one of them for even thinking such things. They were delusional, honed into this way of thinking by their Districts. The Career Districts had forced away the fear when it came to the Games and manipulated the children from a young age to have the same views. It was downright disgusting.

You watched every single interview pass by until it was Finnick's turn to take over the stage. It was like seeing a switch flipped inside of him the moment there were cameras on him. He was grinning from ear to ear, dimples on full display. The words he was speaking were not his own, but then again, yours wouldn’t be your own either. He, too, appraised the Capitol for its greatness and all the nice things they had done for him from the moment he had volunteered.

Caesar Flickerman called out for you and a surge of applause went through the audience. Walking out you tried focusing on the purple-haired male, but instead, the audience caught your attention. They were standing up—well, most of them anyway—with their hands cupped at their mouths, cheering your name. You swallowed at their crudeness. If they loved their Tributes so much, how could they watch them die, gamble with their lives, and hope for a few more coins in their pockets?

You wanted to watch them burn, all of them, for the things that they were doing to you. It should be their screams and cries reverberating through the arena, not those of children. It was them deserving of punishment for they hosted in their minds sickness far worse than any criminal.

Climbing the steps up to where Caesar stood, you were careful not to trip since Lazarus had forced heeled torture devices onto your feet. Bright lights from spotlights blinded you, making it impossible for you to make out anything beyond the stage and yet, you could not avert your eyes.

An excited voice called out your name as a hand plucked yours and pulled you down to your seat. You blinked at Caesar's white grin as the male patted your hand as if he were a close friend offering reassurance. He was not and you weren't quite sure if anybody housed by the Capitol could even be considered friendly, let alone tolerable. Caesar was a star amongst the Capitol's citizens, looked up to as though he was a rare gold coin in a sea of copper. People adored the man more than they adored Snow; you were sure of it.

"Now, I've got to admit, you certainly sparked the Capitol's interest with your entrance at the parade, isn't that right, folks?" Another round of applause and cheers followed his words and you forced a smile of gratitude. "And not only that, but you also had our hearts zapped from the moment the cameras caught you for the first time." Caesar turned serious. You wanted to laugh then; his sincereness was falser than the smile currently resting on your lips. "Would you care to share the reason for your volunteering?"

Your jaw clenched as you had to keep yourself from flaring your nostrils. Never in your life had you heard a question more unnecessary. What did he want to hear? That you volunteered solely for the purpose of killing everyone who had it out for your brother? That you thought Atlas wasn't strong enough? That you did not want him to be alone in his last moments? You swallowed, biting down on your tongue as your gaze went out to the audience. Thinking back, you should have paid more attention when Logan and Ivette tried to school you in self-control.

"I didn’t want my brother to be alone."

"All for your brother, I see." The crowd cooed with compassion none of them truly had. "And you love your brother?"

You stared. "Of course."

"You would do anything for him?"

"Yes."

"Kill for him?"

Blinking at Caesar, you suddenly couldn’t imagine anything but jumping over the table separating you two to strangle the man. Digging your nails into the palms of your hands, you pushed yourself to grin. "Well, Caesar, we will just have to wait and see what I'll do."

"You certainly are capable if your score proves right!" He roared enthusiastically, bestowing eagerness onto the audience. "Let me tell you, it came as a big surprise to us all when your score was published! For almost three decades, District Five scored below four, and there you go, easily bagging a ten. Quite the impressive lady, you are, dare I say." He leaned forward then. "Very impressive indeed. So impressive the Capitol just couldn’t help themselves." Caesar stood in one swift motion, microphone in hand, wearing a glowing smile. "For the first time ever, the Capitol has bestowed upon me to honor of announcing that this year there will not be one—" He stalled, lifting one finger to back his words. "But two… victors!" Your head snapped to him and back to where the other Tributes stood waiting for their interview.

Soon after—after Caesar had gone on about how your family could be reunited as if that hadn’t been your first thought— you were ushered along and off the stage to where the other Tributes sat, who had already completed their interviews. All you wanted was to get to your brother, to pull him close and assure him that both of you would see your mother again. Your body was pumping with adrenalin as you thought of what the future could be like if you got him out—and you, too. Faltering, you took your place beside Finnick. It was harder now, you realized. Way harder now that you had not only your brother to get out, but yourself, too. In all your time here, you had never even allowed yourself to consider it. Atlas and you surviving this hell. It had been futile until now. For the first time since the Reaping, you allowed yourself to feel hope.

You stared straight ahead, thoughts churning messily as you waited for Atlas to get off the stage, ignoring the way Finnick's eyes kept flicking over to you. Caesar treated him for what he was; a child. Asked him his favorite games, if he had many friends, and if he was sad about his score of three. And with every word slipping off Atlas' tongue, the audience laughed and cooed and awed as if he was no more than a circus monkey they could gawk at. They didn’t care that his life was on the line, neither did they care about any of you, only the money they had bet.

The Tributes beside you were celebrating the news they had just received with hugs and laughter. You couldn’t even muster to move a single muscle until you saw Atlas getting off the stage and heading towards you. He talked to you, you saw, but no word reached your ears as you stood and took him in; the little crease between his brows as he complained about his interview, the spattered freckles adorning the top of his cheeks and the glitter that had been put there by his style team, long mahogany lashes, a straight, crunched up nose, and ears just a tad bit too big for his head.

As he waited for your answer you suddenly wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. Atlas huffed, arms hanging by his sides. "You are so weird. Logan told you not to be yourself."

"I wasn’t myself," you defended and smiled—a true smile. "I was being nice."

Following the interviews, you and all other Tributes were to return to your apartments. It was the end, you thought. The end to all the formalities and niceties. Now, all were going to show their real faces, real agendas. That night you were in your bed in a state of restlessness, Atlas sleeping beside you. But you could tell he wasn’t at peace. His usually wrinkleless face was contorted with concern, led by whatever dream he was currently having.

Morning came sooner than you had expected, leaving you with tremors in your limbs. Instead of spending hours in a chair getting your make-up and hair done, while the styling team chattered along, today a grave silence had taken over. Your hair was pulled out of your face, fixated by the stylist so it wouldn’t bother you and you were given the same clothes every Tribute would wear. By these, you could ponder what terrain you would be facing. Having grown up watching each and every game since your birth, you could guess the arena would offer a great variety of terrains. The boots were sturdy as though they were meant to ease the hardship of trekking or climbing but the fabric of the shirt and pants were thin—thin enough not to be a bother when engulfed in water or heat.

When you were done, Lazarus came, checking the work the style team had done and when he deemed it presentable, he nodded for you to follow him. Outside the building, a hovercraft was waiting for you with Peacekeepers surrounding the building in case you or your brother were planning on making a run for it. One of them held a device you had never seen. Though before you were allowed on the hovercraft, the device was lifted to your arm, followed by a sharp pain. You didn’t react to it, knowing there was far worse to come. The spot where the tracker was implanted was itchy and with every movement, you thought you could feel the foreign object in your arm.

The Tributes from Districts One to Four and their head stylists were already on the hovercraft when you boarded. The Careers—as always—looked ready for their first kills. Their chins were directed upward, apparently too good to look at everybody else, chests puffed and proud. The hovercraft filled steadily till it was ready to depart the Training Center for the arena. The one place without the simple rules set for humanity and where killing was (besides surviving) the one true goal.

Time seemed deceiving now, too. Or perhaps they were delaying on purpose, to boost the quivers of nerves and everyone's anticipation. It felt like decades until you finally arrived. Of course, in truth, the trip had only taken a mere hour.

Your eyes couldn’t find a single bare spot after arriving at the arena. Before entering, you and all other Tributes and their stylists were surrounded by Peacekeepers, who led you underground the arena; into the arena catacombs. Your brother gripped your hand tightly as he spotted the weapons they carried. In the Districts, the Peacekeepers kept them hidden. You knew it was solely for reassuring the citizens of Panem, to keep them down, to make them feel like the Capitol cared. Still, they were packed with weaponry on every trip they took outside the Capitol, ready to punish any stepping out of line.

Snow would have your head if he were able to catch a single thought that was rumbling around in your head. Treacherous, they would call them. When in truth it was the Capitol committing treachery on the people, they—as often stated by Snow himself—couldn’t function without. And it was true, of course. Panem wouldn’t be able to function without the grubby work forced on each District. But the people of Panem—the Capitol's citizens excluded—were no more than cattle in Snow's eyes. Everyone knew it. They were just too afraid to lose their heads admitting it.

You squeezed your brother's hand, jaw set in a tight line. By now you couldn’t even force a smile. No muscle in your face was willing to defy what you were truly feeling. Dread. Anger. Fear. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but whatever it was, it was enough to make you nauseous.

You halted when your brother stopped walking alongside you, hand still in yours. His stylist had his other hand in her grip, giving you a pitiful smile. "His Launch Room is through here. This is where you have to part." Both, you and Atlas, looked toward the dark corridor. You swallowed and nodded, noting that Atlas was resisting letting go of your hand.

"Can we… Could we have a moment?" You looked toward Lazarus and back to Atlas' stylist. Taking your brother's shoulders tightly into your hands, you pulled him closer—somehow feeling like the walls had grown ears. Other Tributes passed you and you kneeled on one leg, pulling your brother with you. "You listen to me now, okay? When we are up there, you run."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When the signal comes, you turn around and run. You get away from the Cornucopia. That is the only way I can make sure you're safe."

"But I can help you! It's way more dangerous for you to go alone! And—"

"Atlas!" You gripped his shoulders tighter, forcing him to stop talking. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you: you run."

"But I heard the others talking about the Cornucopia. They all call it the Bloodbath. What if you don't make it back?"

"I will. I will grab us supplies and come find you immediately."

"But what if… what if you don’t?"

Again, you forced down the lump of fear that had gathered in your throat. "You survive, okay? You…" Hesitating, you wagered whether or not the feeling in your gut was indeed a trustable one. It had brought you so far, might as well go with it now. "You find Finnick."

"You told me not to trust him!"

"I know, it's just… I know he won't hurt you."

"How would you know that? You don’t know him."

"Just… trust me, all right?" You did know him, in some way. By the look in his eyes and his seemingly stone-carved features, mastered to perfection, you knew him. You knew Finnick for what he was. The things you had been trying so hard to be, too. You related because, on some level, you two were unerringly the same. Only, somehow, Finnick had mastered everything far better than you ever would. For that, you admired him.

Atlas and you were separated then. Peacekeepers told you to keep moving, and, intimidated by the firearms they carried, you followed their demands without dispute. Brought to your own Launch Room, Lazarus' eyes followed you with hidden sorrow.

"You look like someone's about to die," you joked, suddenly close to heaving.

"I truly believe you won't," he assured. "But you aren't going to come back whole, either. The Games take far more than just lives. They take souls, too."

"Good to know you aren’t in a grim mood."

Something behind you moved and he stilled. "It's time." He signed for you to enter the launch tube, hugging you before stepping aside for you to be sealed in. No sound penetrated in thick glass of the tube, obliging you into utter awareness of yourself; your wildly pounding heart, the uneven puffs of air fleeing your lungs, and the uncontrollable quiver of your hands.

Without warning the platform beneath you shifted, slowly raising you upward, exposing you to the pressing air filling the arena. The lights were blinding for a few moments, a swift contrast to the dark catacombs. A countdown began, and after your eyes had adjusted, your eyes rapidly skimmed the tributes, searching for your brother. He was almost across from you, so far there would have been no way for you to protect him if he ran toward the Cornucopia. Looking to your right you found a dense forest; tropical, as far as you could tell. Turning your head back to the Cornucopia, you could make out a blue glistening behind it, far behind the other Tributes. A river or lake, you guessed.

Your chance of observing ended the second a shot reverberated through the arena. In sync, you and all the other Tributes jumped from the platforms. Almost all sprinted toward the Cornucopia, except for a handful deciding to take their chances without any supplies at all. You hadn’t seen if Atlas had followed your orders, all that was left to do now was hoping he was trusting you enough.

The Tribute beside you fell and in a second a Career was atop her slashing her throat. You stumbled shocked by how easily it seemed to come to them. No thought, no hesitation, no remorse. Close to the weapon stand, you were tackled, a dark head of hair entering your vision. You kicked her away with a grunt, still on your knees, trying to crawl forward to get your hands on one of the knives spread across the moist grass. Fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you back, just as your hand grazed the handle of a silver dagger. You turned then, sharp and quick, only to lock eyes with the girl from District One.

Her forehead was wrinkled, hand raised with a blade, ready to strike you down. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the word entering your mind, couldn’t help feeling it; cattle. Breeding cattle, you were no more than. Her blade sliced your collarbone and you hissed, all hesitancy giving way to the will to survive. The silver dagger jutted from the side of her throat. She sputtered, shaky hand reaching to the blade protruding from her body. Your eyes went wide, moving to stare at the hand you still held outstretched. You weren’t really thinking as it wrapped back around the dagger's handle to pull it free, allowing her blood to flow freely.

Gasping for air, she fell to her side, withering as the last seed of life within her ceased. Canons echoed. One, two—it didn’t stop. You scrambled to your feet, reaching for the bigger weapons within the Cornucopia, only to find the District Seven Tribute hiding behind the crates containing survival kits. The one who had tried to escape. You could only imagine how weakened he must have still been from his whipping. He stared up at you in shock, a small knife cradled tightly in his unstable hand.

"Run," you said, giving a look over your shoulder at the Careers fighting their way forward. They were packed with different types of weaponry already. And, unlike most Tributes, they knew exactly how to use them. Getting the spear and backpack you came for; you took a second one for Atlas the dagger, too, and ran behind the Cornucopia and toward the body of water. It was smarter than running back into the bloodbath. Running into trees surrounding the river, you made sure to keep looking over your shoulder once in a while. There had to have been at least one Career who had seen you run in this direction; who had seen you kill one of their own.

A twig snapped behind you. You faltered, breathing heavily. Turning around, you reached for the dagger sticking out of the backpack in your hands. A knife sailed past you and you dropped the second backpack in shock as you whirled around to search for the culprit. Not a second later a big hand wrapped around your mouth, caging your body. Spurred by adrenaline, you kicked the male in the shin, elbowing him and shoving him off, causing you both to tumble into the red soil. You scrambled forward, gripping the dagger you had dropped, only to throw yourself atop the muscular body, blade raised.

The sea-green eyes stopped you in your movement. Your lungs burned in exhaustion, fingers clenching anticipatingly around the dagger's hilt. Finnick eyed the blade then, tinted with remnants of blood. Instead of trying to wrangle the weapon from you, his hands rested gently on your thighs spread to fit his body.

Another twig snapped.

Finnick jumped into action, seizing the weapons from your hand, overturning you. Your back landed against the contents of the backpack strapped to you, leaving you flailing, trying to reach the spear fastened to your backpack. His hand found your throat then, shaking and you knew he was attempting to force himself to lock it tightly—yet, he couldn’t. Your hand found the red soil, clutching it in your fist before you threw it in Finnick's eyes. When he stumbled, you kicked him onto his back. Using your chance, you collected the things you had dropped and ran.

Picking up voices behind you, you kept moving until Finnick's joined in, telling them the exact way you had gone. Cursing, you threw the second backpack into some bushes and continued forward, till you reached the edge of the water. It was a weird river, you thought, with massive stones protruding not only from its midst but all around it, too. 

Thinking back to the survival station in the training center, you recalled the numerous pages of information you had studied—still, you praised the seemingly uninteresting information as it would now perhaps save your behind. Caves. Underwater Caves, one page had said. It had—in shocking detail—explained what to look for when there were many various stones nigh or in water. Checking each stone for the right markers, your gaze settled on a rock close to the other side of the river. Naturally, it had to be far from you.

Growling you pulled the backpack from your form, waging whether or not the supplies it brought were worth being caught. No. Definitely not. Hurling the backpack into the water, hoping it would drown soon enough to not give the Careers an idea of where you had gone. You seized your spear and dove headfirst into the river, showing not an ounce of vacillation. Bubbles of air escaped your mouth, making you fear that the Careers would spot you eventually. Hurrying along, you swam toward what you had identified to be a possible sanctuary.

The air in your lungs was getting scarce all the while the beating of your heart found no ceasing. Underwater, you were close to blind. In foreign territories, it was only a matter of seconds before you were to hit your head and drown.

Rolling your eyes at yourself, you noticed Atlas' voice piping up at the back of your head, shaming you for your negativity. The wasted time brought no favor, as you noticed there was no more supply of air. Dread crept into the fibers of your figure, that perhaps you had indeed made an error when picking the rock.

Tightening the bite of your jaw, the wrinkles between your brows grew in depth as you provided a ferocious push of your legs. At present, there was no circumstance for uncertainty. Frankly, there was no space for it. No space for it, when the last remnants of air vanished from your lungs, and no space when you could still make out the bustling of rancorous boots. Atlas was out there, stranded in the woods, with no rations of food or weaponry for protection at hand.

Your brother required your aid, your support; you. He needed you by his side if only to give him strength, give him hope. You had sworn an oath to yourself that you would not in this life, see broken. Unsighted by the darkness of the depth the water bore, you had only just reached the rock when wooziness overtook you. Skimming along the rough exterior, you shoved yourself further into the shadows beneath.

Were you any less filled with panic, you might have commenced speculation of what truly lurked blow, but now, wholly engulfed with fright, you came to the comprehension that there was no opening.

No opening, no cave, no sanctuary, no safety.

You had been mistaken. Tremendously so. Pulse spiraling, you couldn’t quell your wants any longer. You needed air. At the rock's backside, you dashed upward to where you perceived the sun piercing the dark, breaking through the surface, gasping for oxygen. When a cough inched its way up your throat, you pressed your arm tightly to your lips to quieten yourself. You hoisted yourself onto one of the rocks barely peeking from the water and cowered in a crouch, hoping—begging to whatever might was left to watch over you—that none of them would locate you.

Spying at them from your position, you obtained a glimpse of them walking in the opposing direction. About to run, your eyes caught on a package being carried by the river's fast flow. Making certain that the group of Careers was entertained by their hunt for another Tribute, you snuck further out of your hiding spot, on your hands and knees, extending the spear you held into the water.

When the backpack floated by, you caught it with your weapon, lifting it out of the river and toward you. You grinned; one out of two wasn’t a bad accomplishment. Looking around you tried to settle for a direction to go; you were left guessing Atlas' location. Bypassing the Cornucopia would have been imprudent. The Careers had secured it, meaning watchful eyes all over its proximity.

There was little to no prospect of making the correct decision. He could have fled into the tropical forest behind him, although someone or something could have gotten in his way, which would have caused him to differ on his way.

Your fingers dug into the roots of your hair as you cursed the Gamemakers with every bad word you held in your vocabulary. The arena was extensively large this year as though they had known of your plans all along, as though they had wanted to see you struggle in your quest of protection. They did, of course, yet the arena's extent added to the woeful cruelty of it all.

Keeping low, you eyed the tropical forest. To get there you would have to run across a vacant field. It offered no shelter, no safety, no way to take cover. A death trap, intent on segregating those reckless enough to risk their lives. You had never believed yourself to be one of them; how vastly the mind deceives. 

Ensuring that the Careers were still on the other side of the river, you strapped the backpack tight and hurried forward. Running while being close to a crouch proved to be immensely uncomfortable and strenuous, the muscles in your legs protesting painfully. You had barely reached the edge of the forest when a sharp pain cut across your cheek. Hissing, you clutched the bleeding wound, taking note of the knife that had hit the tree inches from your head. A young girl stood roughly hidden by the giant trees forming the rainforest.

The girl you recalled was only two years older than Atlas. You had pitied her, too, had felt a familiar stinging in your heart rewatching the clips from the Reaping. She had cried upon her name being called, refusing to step toward the stage. Peacekeepers had to drag her there, while she wailed and struggled and begged for them to end her life then and there.

You pulled the knife from the tree as you ignored the hidden girl, refusing to kill a child. Continuing on into the forest, you picked up the shuffling of footsteps at your back. You dodged the attack, causing her sword to hit nothing but air. She grunted as she took her next swing, the weapon lying unfamiliar in her hands. She had probably gripped whatever she could get her hands on before fleeing the bloodbath.

Before the girl could strike once more, you took hold of her arm, shoving her away. "Stop this!" You hissed. "I don’t want to hurt you."

She scoffed, finding her footing once more, ready to kill. "Then hold still and I'll make this quick," she grinned, throwing herself forward. Using your staff, you blocked the attack. Without warning she pulled out a dagger, slicing along the length of your arm with one quick swipe of her hand.

Kicking her off you watched as she tumbled to the ground, teeth on display as she growled in contempt. You pointed the sharp end of your spear at her in warning. "Stay down."

You moved past her, hoping she would stop and see the madness in it all, when all of a sudden, a weight on your back made you stagger. Caught off guard you grabbed at the arm tightening around your throat, catching the glinting of a blade out of the corner of your eye. Stopping the knife before it could slice your throat, you tried prying her off you. Throwing yourself back against a tree, the girl wailed in pain, letting go for just a second, before her sword found its mark in the back of your leg. You cried out, falling forward, causing her to tumble off you.

Scrambling to stand up, you were ripped from your feet and onto your back, as she launched herself onto you. Barely blocking her first strike, you couldn’t help but notice your wounded arm growing weaker with each moment you spent struggling. Her knife drew closer to your head, as the strength of your arm faded consistently. With your other hand, you searched for any object able to provide you with help, fingers landing on the cold handle of the blade you had dropped before.

"I'm sorry," you said, tears gathering in your eyes. She looked at you questioningly for a moment, until you urged your hand forward, piercing her chest. The pressure she had put against your arm ceased as she wrapped her fingers around the handle protruding from her body before yanking it out in one swift motion. Blood poured from her wound instantly, tainting the fabric of her clothes and yours. Her bloodied hands shook as she stared at the knife that seconds ago, had been in her chest.

Blood spluttered from her mouth. Small specks of warm liquid landed on your face as you watched the life slowly draining from her eyes. She fell, eyes wide though so terribly lifeless you could have wailed from the sight. You barely registered the sound of a canon, declaring yet another child’s death. The never-ending apologies forcing themselves from your lips soon turned into sobs muffled by nothing but your fist urgently pressing against your mouth. There wasn’t anything you could do but stare down at the child whose life had ended at your hand.

Footsteps sounded not too far off. You jumped in fright, snapping out of the state of shock you had lingered in. Looking for an easy way out, you wiped the tears from your face and eyed the trees. Taking the risk of trying to climb a tree probably would have caused you to fall to your death, since you had never once in your life attempted to climb a tree. Shuffling to stand, you pulled tightly on the strap of the backpack and took off running.

You did it for Atlas, you reminded yourself. Everything you did was so your brother could live. You ran until your lungs stung in discomfort and your legs throbbed, sure to be sore for the next couple of days. The next few days you spent hiding in the woods, all the while listening to the canon going off in an unrhythmic reminder that the Careers were close to wiping the arena clean.

The sun bore down mercilessly, its heat as relentless as you navigating through the treacherous landscape of the arena. Your heart was heavy with the thought of hearing another canon—and seeing Atlas’ face flash on the horizon, paying him tribute for the great sacrifice he made. Pushing through the dense underbrush, your mind racing, you felt a sudden sharp pain lancing through your leg. You gasped, shock coursing in your bones before stumbling back and falling. Mere meters away, you spotted a snake slithering back into the brush, its bite burning in your veins as though it had been laced with fire. Panic surged within you, the pounding in your chest instantly the only thing you could hear. Sweat gathered above your brows as you bushed yourself to stand, when suddenly, in your gaze state, you heard the childish laughter of your brother. Whirling around, a figure hushed past the trees, and you called out, changing the small shadowy form. Stumbling you caught up to the shadow, though upon touching his shoulder, wanting to turn Atlas to face you, he vanished.

White dots danced in your sight, a ringing in your head overtaking your senses, writhing in stark agony. In the midst of your haze, the sound of a parachute broke through, landing silently a few yards away. With every bit of strength left n within you, you dragged yourself towards it, unscrewing the metal cap of the item that had been dropped. Upon opening the cap, the sight of an antivenom greeted you, sent by your sponsor. The relief was instant but left you weakened and exposed. Knowing the dangers of the Game—the people within—had no consideration, no compassion, merely a drive to kill, you forced yourself to move.

In the far distance, foreign sounds drifted through the air and you stilled. Growls, you noted. You had never heard such a thing before, violent and vicious and terribly hungry for blood that you felt your lips begin to quiver. The growls of the mutts carrying through the dense brush hastened your escape towards the mountains, but vast expanse of no-man’s-land lay before you—nothing to shield you, nothing to hide you. You ran out of the brush and onto the orange soil, the ground crumbling behind you. A flitting gaze over your shoulder left you gaping, each spot that you had stepped on was caved in, leading into a dark abyss below. The look had cost you, you noted as a rip appeared in the soil before you. Mere meters in front of you lay the mountain range, so, so close but the ground gave away.

With the last efforts of survival, you leaped. Your fingers graced the solid ground at the beginning of the mountain range, gripping tightly as your body collided with a wall of hard rocks. Arms straining and teeth clenching, your feet pushed against the wall, trying to help you pull yourself over the edge. A gasp of relief fled your lungs as your eyes met the familiar glimmer in your brother’s wide gaze. He held a hand out for you to take, helping you heave yourself to safety. The feeling coursing through you was of overwhelming gravity, and in that moment, all fear and tension melted from your chest.

You pulled Atlas to you, arms engulfing the younger boy, lip quivering and eyes stinging. “I thought I’d lost you,” you whispered, holding him close. It was merely a second later that you recalled the situation you both were in—the hell they had forced you into. “We gotta climb up, find a cave or something,” you insisted, starting forward as Atlas nodded, his trust in you unshaken, even after the horror he must have witnessed. “We’ll just wait it out, okay? They’ll end up killing each other sooner or later.”

Luck had been on your side this once as you came up on a cave, its entrance no bigger than Atlas. It was a good place to hole up in—and you did for as long as possible until the grumble in both of your stomachs could no longer be ignored. The necessity for food driving you back down the mountain should have been something to anticipate, though after barely making it to the mountains, the thought of nutrition had fled your mind. A few days you had lived off of berries, though the bushes grew empty after a while. Telling Atlas to stay in the cave—scared you would encounter the remaining ranks of the Careers or whatever mutts had chased you. The cannon had sounded often in recent days and you guessed the mutts had done their jobs fairly well, taking out the majority of the Careers.

Wandering along the mountains, you kept your eyes trailing for any possible danger, they spotted the close rain forest instead. You had to be at the far east side of the mountains with how close the trees seemed to be. Turning back to the task at hand, you eyed the bushes for any edible berries, though ended up growing rigid at the sight before you. His figure stood broad as it always had, hair disheveled and perhaps just a little wet with sweat.

Within seconds, your hands found your spear and you charged. His betrayal had scorched a deep wound into your being, even when you would die rather than admit to it. The stark clash of your spear against his trident echoed loudly through the mountains, though his body moved with scarce efforts to keep you at bay. The ease with which he held himself, the ease with which he pushed you back, the ease with which he had stabbed you in the back on the first day in the arena caused you to burn from within. Fury in your eyes, you grunted, bringing the spear down once more. His hand went out, catching the spear and attempting to rip it from your grasp but you held on for dear life. Finnick pulled at it again and you stumbled forward, fingers still tightly wrapped around the perfectly balanced metal.

“Stop it,” he hissed, his warm breath flaring across your face and you flinched.

“So you can try and kill me again?” You shot back, staring up at the towering male, teeth clenching. “I won’t make it that easy for you, Finnick.” You, fueled by your burning rage, gave up on retrieving your spear, arm lunging forward and punching the male across his face. The impact made Finnick stagger and your hand spasm, but he still refused to release his ironclad hold on the spear. You stood, locked in the standoff, when a dark cloud began to form over the mountain range. Within moments, rain hailed down upon you and contentment filled you, knowing you had been running low on water. Though when the first drops, of what you had thought would be a salvation, hit your skin, you recoiled. Blisters appeared on your skin, each impact leaving behind a painful sizzling as you screeched in pain.

Finnick grabbed your wrist, pulling you along as he dashed across a tiny scrap of dried grass and into the nearby rainforest, seeking refuge from the corrosive downpour. Stumbling and feet sliding unsteadily against the wet floor, you tumbled into a small pond, about to righten yourself and run further, when you noticed the sudden grace the water proved to be. Finnick, after realizing it too, fell into the pond, hands splashing water onto his face and limbs in a desperate attempt to cease the searing ache. His hand came up, spilling water over your shoulder and back, washing away the blisters you hadn’t yet reached. The tenderness he was using to handle you was such a crass contrast to the earlier confrontation that it made your head spin.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snapped toward him at the words that had fallen from his lips, though his eyes didn’t dare to meet yours. You hissed in pain, accidentally touching a part of sore skin. “Sorry won’t fix what you did, Finnick,” you stated coldly, feeling a suggesting tingle in the tips of your fingers to try and push him under the water, try and drown him. “You tried to kill me—"

At that, he snapped. “Don’t you think if I wanted you dead, you would be?” The frustration in his eyes was palpable, though something else lingered within them—a flicker of pain. Tension arose so vastly, charged with anger, hurt, and the unspoken truths of your situation, you could have sliced it with a knife. You were enemies thrown together by circumstance, yet bound by a thread of mutual survival and the remnants of what could have been.

The fleeting moment of uneasy peace was shattered by a scream that pierced the air, slicing through the heavy silence of the rainforest. It was a sound you knew all too well, one that ignited a primal fear deep within your chest. Atlas. Your heart froze, the confusion and turmoil that had clouded your thoughts moments ago swept away by a tide of sheer panic.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet, the pain from your burns momentarily forgotten. You didn't look back at Finnick, didn't see if he followed. Nothing mattered except reaching Atlas. The acid rain had stopped, leaving the world eerily silent in its wake, a silence now broken by the echoes of your brother's distress.

You sprinted with a speed you didn't know you possessed, your legs carrying you back toward the mountain range where you had left Atlas, where you had told him to stay hidden in the cave. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a thunderous echo of Atlas's scream. Why hadn't he stayed? Fear and guilt twisted inside you, coiling around your heart like the snake that had bitten you.

As you broke through the treeline, the scene that unfolded before you was one of your worst nightmares, you realized. Atlas was there, at the bottom of the mountain range, not in the safety of your cave but out in the open, struggling against one of the tributes No, not just any tribute—a killer, poised to end your brother's life. A Career.

You were still too far to reach him in time, your desperate cries for Atlas to run, to fight, to do anything, lost in the distance that separated you. Time seemed to slow, each of Atlas's desperate struggles etched into your memory with painful clarity.

And then, it time seemed to still. The Career tribute overpowered Atlas, and with a swift, brutal motion, plunged a knife into the chest of the person you had sworn to protect, the person for whom you had volunteered to face this horror. A scream, raw and filled with anguish, tore from your throat as you witnessed your younger brother's life being snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint of rage, grief, and an overwhelming sense of failure. Your vision blurred, not with tears but with a fury so intense it threatened to consume you. Atlas, your kind, brave, and gentle brother, was gone, taken by the merciless game you had been forced into.

Every moment spent worrying about Finnick, about your fractured alliance and the betrayal that had seemed so significant, paled in comparison to this loss. In the face of Atlas's death, everything else was trivial, inconsequential. A deep, seething hatred for the Capitol and its cruel games took root in your heart, a vow forming from the depths of your grief; you would make them pay. Every tribute, every sponsor, every viewer who took pleasure in this barbarity would feel the weight of your wrath.

But first, you had a Career to kill.

As the cannon echoed through the arena, a solemn confirmation of your brother's death, the world seemed to stand still. Grief and rage battled within you, propelling your body forward with a singular focus—vengeance. The Career who had taken Atlas from you barely had time to register your approach before you were upon him, your weapon driven by a force fueled by loss and fury. He fell quickly, a testament to the skills you had honed for this moment, for this purpose.

But there was no time to mourn, no time to celebrate your swift revenge, as the rustle of leaves signaled another approaching. The last Career, drawn by the sound of combat or perhaps the cannon's call. Your heart pounded, not just with the exertion of battle, but with the realization of what was to come. You were ready to fight, to kill again if necessary, your resolve steeling within you.

Finnick's footsteps were close behind you, a rapid drumbeat on the forest floor. You half-expected him to call out, to try and stop you or to take the lead, but he remained silent, his presence a steady pressure at your back. The last Career appeared, sword raised, eyes wide with a mix of determination and desperation. He hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and Finnick, the confusion clear upon his face. He had expected to find Finnick chasing you, perhaps even fighting you, but not this—this silent alliance in the face of shared loss.

Without a word, Finnick moved past you, his trident gleaming in the dim light. The Career barely had time to lower his weapon before Finnick was upon him, the trident finding its mark with deadly precision. The man crumpled, and silence fell once more, broken only by the sound of two cannons firing in quick succession.

You and Finnick stood side by side, the realization that you had won, that it was over, sinking in slowly. There was no joy in it, no triumphant cheer; just a heavy weight of survival and the cost it had exacted from both of you.

The journey from the arena to the Capitol was a blur, a series of motions and procedures that felt detached from the reality of your victory. You were taken to separate rooms, the opulence of the Capitol a stark contrast to the brutality you had just endured. It was in this surreal state of limbo that Finnick came to find you, his own room abandoned in favor of seeking out the only other person who could possibly understand what he was feeling.

The moment you saw Finnick enter your room in the Capitol, the pent-up rage and grief you'd been carrying since the arena found a target. He moved with a cautious grace, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you. His first words were meant to be a comfort, but they ignited something fierce and painful inside you.

"We did it," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for something you weren't ready to give.

"We did it?" you spat out, your voice sharp, laced with anger and disbelief. "You think we did this together? You abandoned us, Finnick. You left my brother to die!"

Finnick's expression tightened, the sorrow in his eyes deepening. "I thought I was making the right choice—"

"The right choice?" you interrupted, your voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "You thought abandoning us was the right choice?"

Without thinking, you stepped forward, your hand balled into a fist, striking his chest. It was a futile gesture, driven more by your need to express your anguish than to cause him any real harm. Finnick didn't stop you, nor did he try to defend himself. He simply stood there, taking your blows, his face a mask of regret and pain.

"You could have saved him!" Each word was punctuated by another hit, your anger flowing through you like a river bursting its banks. "You were supposed to be our ally!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Finnick's voice was barely above a whisper, his arms tentatively coming up to hold you, not to restrain, but to offer solace.

Your strength faltered, the anger giving way to the profound sorrow you'd been trying to keep at bay. The punches slowed, then stopped altogether as the reality of your loss, of Atlas's death, truly hit you. Your hands fell to your sides, and you felt your knees weaken as the weight of your grief became too much to bear.

Finnick was there in an instant, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his chest. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for his betrayal, but the energy, the anger, had drained from you, leaving nothing but exhaustion and heartache.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Finnick murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I would give anything to change what happened."

And there, in the opulent room that felt miles away from the horror of the arena, you allowed yourself to break. Tears streamed down your face, sobs wracking your body as you clung to Finnick. He held you, his own body shaking with silent cries, as you mourned not just for Atlas, but for all that had been lost in the games.

The anger had burned bright and fast, but what remained in its ashes was a deep, unyielding sadness. Finnick's embrace didn't fix the gaping wound in your heart, but it offered a momentary reprieve from the loneliness of your grief. In the aftermath of your rage, wrapped in the arms of the one person who could come close to understanding your pain, you found a fragile sense of comfort.

The games had ended, but the scars they left behind were fresh, painful reminders of the cost of survival. And as you cried into Finnick's chest, a part of you understood that this shared sorrow was the first step towards healing, towards forgiving, not just Finnick, but yourself as well.

After the tempest of your grief and anger in Finnick's arms, a precarious calm settled over both of you. The initial intensity of your emotions gave way to a weary, shared silence. As you pulled away, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, you caught a glimpse of something in Finnick's eyes—a reflection of your own pain, the understanding that the games had taken something irreplaceable from both of you.

In the days that followed, the Capitol was abuzz with the aftermath of the Hunger Games. You and Finnick were paraded as victors, symbols of triumph and resilience, yet beneath the surface, you both bore the invisible wounds of survivors. The forced smiles for cameras, the scripted interviews where you recounted the horrors of the arena with a veneer of gratitude for the Capitol's 'generosity,' felt like another layer of betrayal, this time self-inflicted.

----

A few months after the Hunger Games, amidst another extravagant Capitol party celebrating the unity of the districts, the weight of your experiences in the arena became too much to bear. As the party's laughter and music echoed hollowly in your ears, you found yourself seeking refuge away from the crowd. Slipping unnoticed through a side door, you ventured into a secluded garden, a hidden oasis under the night sky.

The garden, illuminated by the gentle glow of fairy lights woven through the foliage, felt like stepping into another world. You moved aimlessly along the winding paths until you found yourself in front of a grand statue, an intricate marble piece that towered above the garden's natural beauty. Here, in the shadow of the statue, you leaned against the cool stone, allowing the tears that you had fought to keep at bay to finally escape.

As the facade you'd been forced to maintain since your victory crumbled away, the garden's tranquility contrasted sharply with the turmoil within you. The tears were for everything—the loss, the pain, and the irrevocable changes the games had wrought upon your life and Finnick's.

The sound of footsteps broke through your reverie, and you hastily tried to compose yourself, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. When you looked up, it was Finnick who emerged from the shadows, his eyes immediately finding yours in the dim light.

He stopped just in front of you, concern etching his features. "There you are," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding and shared sorrow.

"I just needed a moment," you managed to say, though your voice betrayed the depth of your distress. You attempted a smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil inside. Finnick reached out, his thumb gently catching a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender. “I hate this,” you confessed, the words barely above a whisper, “pretending to be something we’re not, celebrating when all I feel is loss.”

Finnick stepped closer, eliminating the distance between you. He didn’t dare step away; instead, he lingered before you, offering his presence as a silent source of comfort. "I know," he responded, his tone gentle. "But remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, with you. Always."

You nodded, struggling to find words that could encompass the breadth of what you were feeling. Before you could speak again, Finnick reached out, carefully wiping away a tear that had lingered on your cheek. His touch was tender, filled with an empathy that spoke volumes of his own battles with the ghosts of the arena.

In a gesture that felt as natural as breathing, Finnick drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The warmth of his body against yours was a stark contrast to the cool marble at your back. He kissed your forehead with such care and affection that it felt like a balm to your wounded spirit. Then, his lips brushed softly against your nose, a touch so light and comforting that it drew a half-hearted smile from you, despite the sadness.

Finally, his lips met yours in a kiss that was both a salve and a promise—a promise of shared strength, of mutual support, and of a bond forged in the crucible of unimaginable trials. It was a kiss that spoke of hope amidst despair, of finding light in the darkness, and of the unspoken vow to navigate the uncertain path ahead, together.

Leaning against the cool marble, under the canopy of the night sky, you found a moment of peace in Finnick's embrace, a reminder that, despite everything, you were not alone. You had each other, and together, you would find a way to heal, to rebuild, and to carve out a space for yourselves in a world that had forever changed you.

In the quiet of the garden, with the distant sounds of the party reduced to a mere whisper, you and Finnick shared a moment of profound connection, a brief respite from the chaos that had become your lives. The kiss ended, but you remained close, leaning into each other for support, finding solace in the presence of someone who understood the depth of your pain and loss.

Finnick's eyes met yours in the dim light, a silent conversation passing between you. There was an understanding that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, both seen and unforeseen, but there was also a shared resolve to face them together. The world outside the garden was a maelstrom of expectations, responsibilities, and the ever-present gaze of the Capitol, but here, in this moment, none of that mattered.

"You know we can't stay here forever," Finnick finally said, his voice low, breaking the silence that had settled between you. It wasn't just an observation about the garden but about the bubble of peace you'd momentarily created. The real world, with all its complexities and demands, waited just beyond the garden's confines.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, bolstered by the strength you found in Finnick's presence. "I know. But for a moment, it's nice to pretend we can."

Finnick smiled, a genuine, warm expression that reached his eyes. "We'll have more moments like this, I promise. Away from the cameras, the parties, the Capitol. Moments just for us."

The thought was comforting, a lifeline amid the turbulent seas of your new reality. You straightened, steeling yourself for the return to the party, to the roles you were forced to play. Finnick sensed your resolve and offered his hand, a silent pledge of solidarity. You took it, and together, you stepped back into the light, leaving the sanctuary of the garden behind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the two of you navigating the party as a united front, your earlier moment of vulnerability transforming into a source of strength. The Capitol's guests saw only the victorious tributes, the heroes of the games, but beneath the surface, you and Finnick shared a bond forged in the crucible of shared suffering and mutual understanding.

After the party, the journey back to your separate rooms in the Capitol's luxurious accommodation felt like transitioning from one world to another. The grandeur and opulence of the Capitol surrounded you, a stark reminder of the divide between the lives you once knew and the lives you were forced into now. The echoes of laughter and music from the party faded as you walked through the silent, opulent hallways, each step taking you further away from the façade you had to maintain in public.

Finnick walked you to your door, his presence a source of comfort in the overwhelming world of the Capitol. Despite the late hour, neither of you seemed eager to say goodnight, lingering in the hallway, caught in the bubble of tranquility you had created for yourselves. The intensity of the day, from the forced smiles at the party to the genuine moments of connection in the garden, had drawn you closer, a silent acknowledgment of the shared experiences that bound you together.

Standing before your door, Finnick turned to face you, his expression serious yet gentle. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. It was a simple question, yet loaded with the depth of understanding and concern that had grown between you.

You offered a small, tired smile, appreciating the sincerity of his question. "I will be," you replied, knowing that the road to feeling truly okay was long and fraught with challenges. "Thanks to you."

Finnick's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. The gesture was intimate, comforting, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the connection and solace it offered.

"I'm always here for you," he said, his voice firm with promise. "We've been through too much to let the Capitol's games tear us apart. We're survivors, and we'll keep surviving, together." The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a vow of mutual support and resilience. It was a commitment not just to each other but to the future, whatever it may hold. Finnick leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent echo of the affection and care he had shown in the garden. "Goodnight," he whispered, reluctantly stepping back.

"Goodnight, Finnick," you replied, your voice a soft murmur. As Finnick turned to leave, a sudden wave of vulnerability washed over you, the stark loneliness of the Capitol's luxurious rooms looming in your mind like a shadow. The thought of spending another night alone, surrounded by the echoes of your thoughts and the weight of your brother's absence, was unbearable. "Finnick, wait," you found yourself saying, the words slipping out almost without thought. He stopped immediately, turning back towards you with a look of concern. The hallway, with its grand decorations and the soft glow of the artificial lights, felt like a world away from the raw reality of your emotions. "Would you... stay with me tonight? I don't think I can be alone right now," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in your request was palpable, a stark contrast to the strength you had always tried to project.

Finnick's expression softened, his earlier resolve giving way to a deep, unmistakable empathy. He understood all too well the demons that haunted you in the quiet, the memories and fears that the Capitol's walls could not keep at bay. "Of course, I'll stay," he said without hesitation, his voice carrying a warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an unwavering support that seemed to bridge the distance between you.

He followed you into your room, the door closing quietly behind him, sealing off the world outside. The room, with its grandeur and excess, suddenly felt less imposing with Finnick there, as if his presence could somehow make the space more bearable, more like a sanctuary than a cage.

You didn't bother with the lights, the city's glow casting a soft illumination through the windows. The silence of the room enveloped you both, a stark reminder of the world you had left behind for this moment of solace.

Finnick's presence was a steady comfort as you prepared for bed, the routines of the evening taking on a new, less lonely aspect. When you both lay down, the bed large enough to maintain a respectful distance yet close enough to feel the reassuring presence of each other, the tension began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of peace.

Neither of you spoke much, the silence a comfortable blanket woven from mutual understanding and shared experiences. The sound of Finnick's breathing, steady and calm, became a lighthouse in the night, guiding you away from the shoals of your own turbulent thoughts. And for the first time since entering the Capitol, the night didn't seem quite so long, nor the shadows quite so deep. With Finnick by your side, even in the silence, you were no longer alone.

[sarah-yyy]

what: period cdrama // 40 eps, roughly 55 mins each  where: youku (you can also dl the app) // youtube // coming up soon on viki (usual disclaimer that i do not use eng subs so i don’t speak to the quality of subs) why: do you love watching a poor little meow-meow get tortured in a variety of ways before he decides to go fuck it, i’ll be a demon lord and kill everyone who wronged me?? do you like enemies to fated to kill you lovers??? do you enjoy PAIN AND SUFFERING??? this is the show for you

meet tantai jin, the cdrama fandom’s newest obsession 

cursed prince of the Jing kingdom who was sent as a hostage to a neighbouring kingdom. he’s been unloved and bullied all his life - think, discarded and left to die by his own father, kicked around by servants, begging for scraps of food, abandoned and slowly betrayed by everyone around him... it’s NOT GOOD buddies, you will watch his life unfold and you will become attached and want to let him do whatever the fuck he wants 

surprise surprise this sad pathetic man will one day become

THE demon lord who destroys all of humanity etc etc. look at this wardrobe upgrade??? amazing. beautiful. bad for humanity but great for him. good job, bud, you did well.

ANYWAY this show opens with demon lord tantai jin (affectionate) going on his lil’ murder spree (understandable). the fate of humanity as we know it to be rests on the shoulders of one li susu

to defeat tantai jin, she will transmigrate to the past into the body of ye xiwu (tantai jin’s evil wife who whips him every night (not in the fun way sorry buds) and tortures/bullies him for because it pleases her) to try to kill him while he’s weak, before he turns evil and amasses power. this is for the good of humanity!!! but also he’s truly so pathetic in the past that she can’t quite seem to put her heart into it (there’s also this whole finding his evil bone and getting rid of that before she can kill him problem but HMMM) and decides that?? maybe if she shows him some care and love??? she’ll subvert his murdermurdermurder tendencies????

this is the gist of the show!! there are a few arcs that we go through like all good xianxia cdramas, so we get to see them live through a few different lives (think: ten miles of peach blossom, pillow book etc etc), and every single dynamic between them is SO GOOD!!!!! we have spicy enemies to lovers!! cutesy arranged marriage between strangers to lovers (who don’t communicate enough for them to be happy)!!! star-crossed lovers fated to kill one another!!! 

the show is so goddamn pretty!! the aesthetics!!! the cgi!!!! the costumes ohmygod, i have never wanted to buy so many headdresses before

LOOK AT THIS!!! HOW PRETTY WAS THIS!!!!

he’s got this whole demon look LOCKED IN who else does it as well as my boy tantai jin

this show is very PRETTY but make no mistake there will be a lot of angst!!! that’s part of what makes it so good!! luo yunxi does Tortured, Feral and Deranged™ SO WELL i weep every time i see him on screen, i have truly not been Okay since this show started airing, buddies please join me in till the end of the moon hell, you will not regret it, promise 😇✨

⚠❗ few post-finale thoughts so y’all go into it with full disclosure (and can’t yell at me for inflicting pain on y’all, just know what i am also Suffering™) - stop reading from here if you want no spoilers for the show at all. 

trigger warning: there is some dubcon in ep 14 (stretches between approx. the 25:00-27:25 min mark) between ming ye and sang jiu 

we were all hoping for a happy ending, but this ends on a bad-open scale, depending on how you look at it. @minmoyu​ has helpfully directed me to a happy audio-epilogue which was apparently shot but didn’t make its way into the episode?? we still dk if the footage will be released as an extra?? we can all form a prayer circle and HOPE i guess

the plot is HMM the further to the end we get, probably because they had to cut the eps down, so it’s a little choppy, esp the last few scenes??? idk idk. it’s a bit exhausting to watch towards the end, because you root for ttj so so much and he tries so so hard and SIGH. i need another few working days to digest this, i’m still a bit :/ about the ending

would i still rec the show, post-watch? yes! this show starts off really solid, and luo yunxi carried the show throughout. like. y’all thought lyx was good in ashes of love?? watch him in this. every single micro-expression was flawless. bai lu’s acting is always so dependable, and it’s the same with this show!  

this show has an a+++ ost (i mean it’s got the king and queen of cdrama osts liu yuning and zhang bichen, literally how could this be bad)!! and CERTAIN side characters are so so good (pian ran my baby girl, ye qingyu who grows on you, decidedly NOT bingchang/tian huan/mo nv although i will concede that chen duling’s acting in this show was Incredible).