#but the rich thought it a fun little game to bet on who would survive

[seyaryminamoto]

my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Seven (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE. BRIEF MENTION OF SUICIDE

wc; 14.5k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

There’s a familiar feeling of dread when you wake up this afternoon. A bottomless pit in your stomach that sticks with you no matter how hard you shake. You sit in bed for an extra twenty minutes, hoping that positive affirmations will be enough to get some of it to go away. Dread is an unbearably uncomfortable feeling, and it doesn’t go away either.

You have to get out of bed at some point, so you drag your feet around your room, getting shit ready for the shower. Ripped white skinny jeans, an open-back light blue shirt, white underwear. You drop it all onto the white bathroom counter, turn on the shower, and let it run for a couple of minutes as you lean over the sink bowl.

Maybe you’re just hungry. You’ve felt this same hopeless feeling before, and all you had to do was eat for it to go away. You’ll have breakfast, and by the time you get to the betting room, your heart and stomach will be full. It’s hard to convince yourself this lie, knowing that it’s deeper than that.

You take your time in the shower too, no longer feeling sorry for Finnick for taking so long. He’s got Gloss and Enobaria down there, and they’re not so bad when you get to know them well enough. Unlike their crazy tributes inside of the arena, they know when and how to dial it down without causing too much trouble. Every year, it’s like the tributes ramp it up for entertainment. You wish they knew just how fucking insane they looked, how unappealing it’ll get to the gamemakers.

The Capitol likes fun, big and new until it’s gross and they can’t stomach it anymore. It might take them a little longer to get to that point, since they’ve been watching this shit for years, so they’re more desensitized than the rest of you. But it’s going to happen, and the moment it does, the gamemakers are going to censor everything possible to get their exciting program back on track.

It’s sickening, but it’s always sickening.

You wrap it up in the shower, allow the Capitol hair machines to work their magic on your hair. And while you’re at it, you go ahead and decide to let the body blow dryers do the exact same thing. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re not in the Capitol. You’re at home, on the beach surrounded by your friends and family. It’s late spring, early summer. You’ll picnic on the beach after you’re done with the water, and then you’ll play games until sundown. Walking home in the dark is especially fun, Reed drunk is a sight that never fails to amuse.

And then the blow dryers stop, and you’re right back home. You get dressed, one article at a time. Underwear, bra, pants, shirt. To avoid an endless stare in the mirror again, you go out to the dining room. 

You turn on the tv, sit at the table, and watch as the avoxes serve a big breakfast. Good, you want to make sure that you’re full. The sooner the shitty feeling goes away, the sooner you can start focusing on more important topics. You take your time getting through it all. Pancakes, with assorted berries, syrups and candies to place on top. You get orange juice, coffee and hot chocolate served in a heartbeat. If you don’t want the berries, you can opt for oranges, apples, plums, mangos. If not fruits, then vegetables. 

You stick with the pancakes, mixing and matching your food to try and find the best combination. You’re procrastinating, you know it. The longer you take, the less time you’ll have to spend inside of the betting room. You eat and eat, but find that the feeling isn’t going away. This shouldn’t be how today is going, especially not after the shit you just went through yesterday. It might not have been your tributes directly, but it was bad enough.

At least lady fate has been nice enough to give you a warning, right? Right?

It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. Everyone inside of the arena is awake and working on their own projects by now. Nine girl is relaxing off to the left, she’s got a fire started, and she’s cooking some animal that you’ve never seen before, over it. She’s content, and you think that she'll be able to kite the games easily, if she doesn’t go and pull anything like Bauhinia did.

Had Bauhinia just minded her own business and stuck next to the dam, she’d be alive right now. It wouldn’t have made for an interesting day, but that’s okay. You still can’t believe that she thought it was a good idea to try and attack them in the first place. Sure, it was only one of them, but she really didn’t think that she’d get away with it. The careers aren’t just going to let it go.

Sometimes there’s genius tributes, who can make their way around the arena, fight other tributes and survive off of worms in the ground. And they have everyone fooled, right up until they make their first not-common sense decision. A part of you can understand how they made it so far, because they’ve obviously got the skills for it. They’re just lacking literally the most obviously important details.

Bauhinia had the chance of winning, and she blew it for herself.

District Seven is awake, but they haven’t moved from the huts. They don’t look like they’re planning on going anywhere, either. The dam is leaking water, which has them mildly concerned, as they should be. They’ve just decided to ignore it for the time being, take advantage of it while they can before they have to actually go to the stream.

Annie and Marsh haven’t gone out to their snares at all. You don’t think they’re planning on moving today, either. They’re holed up inside of their shack, splitting food and talking about how they’re going to ration it. Maybe they’re finally going to try and make the push to the village tonight? That’s good, they should make one last round with the snares and gather what they can. Just in case there isn’t any food over there, they’d have some rabbits, squirrels and whatever else to hold them over until their next trip. Same thing goes for stocking up water.

As for the careers, they’re getting a slow start to today’s hunting day. They eat, discuss, go quiet, and then repeat the process about a hundred times until they eventually agree on just heading towards the stream. They pack up their things agonizingly slow, keeping the wretched kama with them so that no other tribute can run across it and keep it. It’s smart, but also a waste of space, considering they broke the strap on the outside of the backpack that would’ve held it for them.

And the only tribute that’s left is Five boy, who is a lot farther along than you thought he would be. He’s practically at the stream, and the path he took was on top of the careers. How they didn’t see him is a complete mystery to you. Like every other tribute that moves through the woods, he’s not very quiet. 

Then again, the careers are dragging their feet, so yesterday must’ve tired them out. After walking for several hours, and then running, there’s no way that their legs aren’t sore. Plus, they’re carrying backpacks chocked full of goods they’ll need for a couple of days. At least this shows that they’re some form of human. You’re sure that they’re going to find some way to change that thought in the next day or so. With what you’re feeling today, it’ll probably be in the next few hours.

You finish breakfast, still watching as Five boy gets closer and closer to the stream. With where he’s at currently, Annie and Mash shouldn’t have a thing to worry about. Hell, the kid isn’t even geared up, no backpack, no weapons, he’s just letting the wind decide where he’s going. Even if he did manage to run across your tributes, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. He’s harmless.

The careers get ready to go, heading the exact same was as Five boy, of course. Again, if they stick with the path that they’re on, they shouldn’t be a problem with your tributes, either. However, if that were the case, you’re sure your heart wouldn’t squeeze each time you think of the idea of them getting close to Annie and Marsh.

You brush your teeth in your bathroom, no longer taking your time getting ready. You’ve wasted thirty minutes eating lunch alone, dragging your feet isn’t going to delay the inevitable. If today’s going to be a bad day, it’s going to happen with or without you.

Plus, Finnick’s probably wondering where you’ve been this entire time. You know that he didn’t leave to go to the betting room until early this morning. With the confirmation last night that the careers wouldn’t be doing anything else, he decided to sleep for a little while longer. You didn’t really see any harm in it either. The important part is that he got down there this morning.

The elevator down makes you anxious, you press a hand to your stomach, hoping that it’ll ease your nerves. But the more you walk towards the betting room, the more the dread spreads from your stomach to your chest. By the time you’re actually inside of the room, you’re sure that being dead would be better than feeling this for the rest of the day.

Finnick is standing up instead of sitting, arms crossed while he watches the tv screen. Gloss is standing next to him, talking about something. Every now and then they’ll glance at each other, but for the most part, they’re reasonably interested in what’s going to eventually happen. It’s a matter of time before the careers and Five boy run across each other, isn’t it?

As for Enobaria, she’s in a group of sponsors, chatting away. You’d say that you’re surprised or that she’s gearing up for something, but the truth is that it’s a ritual of hers. She’ll lose a tribute, and then she’ll go talk to Capitol people all day to make her feel better. It’s a way to take away from the self-hated. The Capitol people are a fucking escape, with their rich lives, accents and complete obliviousness to social cues. It’s hard not to get lost in them.

Mentors are usually pissed at the Capitol for encouraging the games, but it works a little differently with the careers. You’re supposed to love the Capitol for favoring your districts all because of what you guys produce. The truth is that keeping up appearances is hard, and constantly trying not to be mad at them is even worse. At some point you’re going to snap.

And Enobaria wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect reputation that she’s built up all this time. To be fair, neither would you. It’s hard to get the Capitol to like a district that isn’t very good at the games, and it’s even harder to do when you’ve insulted them constantly. This is why you insult your own district to ally yourselves with the Capitol to make them think that you’re over being a savage.

Anyway, you wouldn’t be surprised if Enobaria doesn’t speak to any of you all today. She should be right back to it tomorrow, though. Nothing is permanent when it comes to her. She could be mad at you today, bounce right back at it the next day. She’ll also probably find a way to blow off steam.

The Afternoon Line Odds say that everyone is still at their respective places. Annie and Marsh are still at a 6-1, Sanguine is at 1-1, and Geare is at 2-1. As for everyone inside of the arena… you wouldn’t say that they don’t have a chance at winning, you’d say that they don’t have a chance at getting sponsored. The higher your odds, the more people are going to keep their eyes on you.

Before Bauhinia died, she was at a 14-1, which isn’t horrible, but isn’t the best either. Nine girl is at a 10-1, you can’t remember what she was yesterday. You can imagine that getting that backpack from the cornucopia has worked wonders for her. The more supplies she has, the easier it’ll be to live out in the woods. You still think that someone should make a run for the village before it’s too late. None of the careers are going to see, and do they really think another, lesser tribute is going to chase them down there?

The village is barren, it’s practically the golden ticket. Plus, Nine girl doesn’t even know about the stream on the right side of the woods! All she probably knows is about the dam leaking water, but that’s not really an efficient way to drink, right? Who knows how many diseases lie inside of the lake water behind the dam. The water probably has concrete dust anyway.

Though, you can’t completely blame them. If you were in the same spot as they were, you’re not sure if going out of your comfort zone would be a number one priority. In your arena, you always went to the pond. And after the pond was slowly being sucked up, you were apprehensive to go to the waterfall because it was uncharted territory… not really claimed, either. On the other hand, though, you knew that other tributes were in that area. Made it a little harder to want to go around there in the first place.

You appear behind Finnick and Gloss, who don’t seem to take notice of your presence at all. With the angle they’re turned at, Finnick could look to Gloss and still not see you. As you listen in, it’s basically meaningless conversation, until Finnick starts asking questions.

“Is she normally this stressed out?”

“You don’t even know half of it. Compared to the last couple of years we’ve known her, this is absolutely nothing.” Gloss lets out a breathy laugh, “I mean, she used to eat, sleep and breathe this room. None of us really understood how she’d survive down here. Sleep deprivation, hours without eating.” Gloss looks at Finnick, “The tributes would die and she wouldn’t even get mad. It’s hard to forget she’s human.”

“Do you think she unintentionally flirts with the Capitol people?” Finnick asks.

Your mouth opens, face twisting in disbelief as you look to Finnick. You have the urge to slap him upside the head hard enough to rattle his fucking brain with a question like that. You don’t mind that he’s asking these questions, he was practically asking the same exact ones last night before you went to bed.

After the Anchor question on the balcony, more followed. He had three years to catch up on, and you guys didn’t even get to finish. You got too tired to go on, so he let you go on the promise that you’d resume the questionnaire another night. He asked practically everything that he could think of.

How you were doing after all these years, what you like to do, how you fill your free time when you’re not in the Capitol. What your brothers have been up to, how Alyssum’s been doing in school, what they do now that they don’t have to work every hour of the day to provide anymore. And then went the questions for Caspian’s family and if you’re still close with them, which is an obvious yes. More questions about Mags, Anchor and Luther.

You think this is a good sign, like it’s Finnick’s own personal way to weasel his way back into your life. You’re practically down for whatever gets him to stay this time around. You don’t want him to be participating in this year’s games but completely fall off the radar by the time next year rolls around.

Anyway, Finnick turning to Gloss to ask these same questions is only natural, you’re sure that if Cashmere and Enobaria were over here too, they’d be more personal. To some extent, you think that Finnick isn’t trying to dig too deep, like he’s unsure of whether or not Gloss is one of your best friends or not. However, if he was going with that path, he wouldn’t have just asked Gloss whether he thinks you’re flirting with the Capitol each time you open your mouth.

“Uh,” Gloss says, smart man. He shouldn’t be quick to answer, but if he’s finding a better way to word whatever he’s thinking, he might have earned himself a hard slap to the side of the head too. “I wouldn’t say that it’s unintentional. We all know that the more you compliment the sponsors, the more willing they are to sponsor. So, I’d say that when she does, it’s on purpose too. She’s good at getting her way.”

“So I’ve heard.” Finnick mutters.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you ask, causing the both of them to jump.

Gloss places a hand over his heart, “Holy fuck, (Y/n). Again?”

You hardly pay attention to Gloss, eyes focused on Finnick, who’s beginning to turn red because of guilt, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“That’s what everyone says when they’re caught.” you roll your eyes, looking at the screen, “What’s up, Gloss?”

“Watching Enobaria unintentionally flirt with the sponsors.” Gloss snorts.

“Ha!” you elbow him, a smile peeking onto your face.

“(Y/n), I just meant that I’ve experienced it first hand. The elevator? The train?” Finnick says, you barely glance at him, “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

You shrug, a cheeky smile on your face, “Hey, I’d be careful next time, though. Who knows what corner I’ll be lurking behind next?” you reach over, fingers finding Finnick’s sides.

Finnick squirms, giving you a glare, “Get your dirty fingers off of me.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll just turn to Gloss instead--”

“I’m not ticklish, living a life with Cashmere will do that to you.” Gloss says.

You pause for a second, “She’s your younger sister.”

“Sisters are cruel.” he says.

You snort, going for his sides anyway, “You’re a liar!”

“Grab her!” Gloss shouts, Finnick laughs.

You move out of the way before either of them can do some real damage. Gloss had been going for your wrists, Finnick for your back. You knew it was only going to be a matter of time before they tried to torture you. But unlike them--the total liars--you’re not actually ticklish. 

It’s always the older sibling that messes with the younger ones. Of course, you’ve had your fair share of impish moments and getting on your brothers’ nerves. But you’ve never had the opportunity to hold down Reed and give him hell until he cried and begged and promised to do shit that he didn’t want to. Plus, the idea of Cashmere going that far on Gloss is heinous. Does he really think you’re that stupid?

“Anyway, hear the tributes talk about anything important?”

“For a while the gamemakers let us hear Annie and Marsh. Catch any of that while you were taking your sweet ass time getting down here?” Finnick asks, giving you a raised eyebrow.

“Not my fault I feel like shit.”

Suddenly, Finnick’s no longer suspicious, “Sick?”

“Probably not, just a gut feeling.”

Gloss lets out a laugh, “Well, that’s not good. Last time you had a gut feeling was last year when… both of your tributes died on the same day?”

“Yeah.” you huff, “And if this year is a repeat, I’m going to fucking lose my mind.”

“I would too. You’ve got quite the streak going on.”

You punch Gloss’ arm.

“So on top of everything else, you’re also psychic?” Finnick asks.

You place your hands on top of your head, “Yeah, something like that. What was Annie and Marsh saying?”

“Village, talking about going there before it’s too late. They both want to go tonight, they’re still worried about finding a water source, though.”

“Figured.”

The further Sanguin and Geare walk, the more they seem to awaken. No longer dragging their feet, conversation has picked back up into its usual vicious state. Mostly about what happened yesterday, and they can’t believe that the chase went on as long as it did. You can’t blame them, at first glance, Bauhinia doesn’t look like a girl that ran track in high school. Then again, appearances can be deceiving.

Five boy has made it to the stream, deciding to take a break. He’s sat on the right side of the bank so no one can sneak up on him from the way he came. He sheds some clothing, dipping his shirt in the water, ringing it out a little to not let him be completely soaking wet, and then puts it back on. You didn’t really consider the fact that it could very well be hot inside of the arena. It looks like it’s the middle of springtime there, like it can’t be more than seventy degrees.

Whatever he does, he doesn’t shed his shoes. He’ll sit in the stream water, let his pants completely soak, but taking off his shoes is out of the question. In fact, he even goes as far as to lift his feet in the air to make sure that they don’t get wet at all. You guess it’s not a completely fruitless idea. Walking in wet shoes isn’t comfortable at all, especially when your skin begins to wrinkle. Plus, if he were to take off his shoes and someone else were to show up, he’d be stuck running through the woods barefoot. If there’s one thing that no one wants to do, it’s run through the woods barefoot.

Rocks, dirt, sticks, needles, poison ivy, beetles, spiders, snakes, whatever can be lying in the grass. Hell, you’ve seen grass that looks like it’s harmless, but it turns out it has razor edges along the blade. It wouldn’t be a problem, if it weren’t for the fact that the grass had reached above their shoes, constantly cutting and reopening wounds on their calves. Didn’t make for a very fun time for the tributes.

You can appreciate the determination going on with Five boy. He kinda reminds you of Six before he went and died via forcefield. The both of them have their own set of determinations. While Five boy has, for whatever reason, made it his goal to make it across the woods in a little less than two days, Six boy had been moving to get away from the dam.

Although, you’re really not sure what Five is up to. If he was looking for water, he found it. But you can’t imagine that’s why he traveled across the entire arena. If he’s lasted this long, that means he’s had his own supply off to the far left for a while. Why leave what you know is working? You’re all for taking risks until it’s unnecessary.

Upstream from Five is your tributes, who are still inside of the shack. You can’t hear the conversation, as usual, so you try your best to read lips. You think you catch Marsh saying that they should hole themselves up inside of the shack until tonight comes. Annie asks what they would do if someone came along and wants where they’re saying, he says to fend it off or just make a fucking run for the village.

Annie says splitting up isn’t a smart idea, he agrees, “What choice do we have?” Those words are the clearest. Annie doesn’t really respond, she just brings her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees. Then, she shrugs. You can’t blame her, it’s hard knowing what to do when you don’t really have options. And with them being inside of the Hunger Games, everything is a risk at this point.

If they don’t move on, they run the risk of someone coming across them, their shack, their snares and taking one of them out. If they do move on, they leave behind shelter, the way they’ve been getting food, a certain water source, and they go on the chance that they might get caught on the way to the village. It’s not really a winning situation unless all conditions are perfect. Which is hardly ever. Oh, and also if they stay, the dam will eventually be their number one problem.

Marsh says that he’s going to step out and get fresh air, he’ll just be outside of the doorstep. Annie says she’s fine with that, watches him leave and then closes her eyes for a while. They’re not really splitting up, so you can’t see a problem with him just leaving for a moment. If he wanders off, that’s a whole new ordeal, though.

Sanguin and Geare are fast despite their sore legs. The map that the gamemakers show you, tell you that they’re basically on top of the stream. A couple more minutes, and they’ll be able to see it through the trees. And with the path they took, it’s parallel to what Five boy took. This is a fight waiting to happen. Any fucking minute now.

“Back to back.” Gloss says.

“Can’t wait to see what Sanguin has instore for us today.” Finnick says.

Gloss looks over, “You heard what happened?”

“Saw.” you correct, “Showed him what happened when I got back yesterday. Let’s just say that Finnick can eat and watch shit like that all day long.”

“O-kay.” Finnick draws out the world, but he starts laughing along with you two.

And like you predicted, Sanguin and Geare spot the stream through the trees. They’re not really overjoyed, just relieved that they finally found it after all this time. They take their time getting there, dropping off their stuff in the bushes along the treeline. Geare crouches down to splash water on his face, Sanguin complains about her hair being greasy.

They fill back up on water, talking quietly amongst themselves because there’s no use to shout if they’re next to each other. The moment they comfortably fall into silence, Five boy’s voice is heard. It’s not clear, it sounds distant, but it’s unmistakable. You watch as Sanguin and Geare share a look, hands finding their weapons, then dropping the things they don’t need at the moment before they head off toward Five.

A part of you wonders that if Five boy takes off running, if they’ll follow or just let him go. You wouldn’t believe your eyes if they just decided to go after him. But you also couldn’t believe your eyes when you watched Sanguin single-handedly rip apart Bauhinia like she was a fucking animal and not a human.

The careers disappear into the trees for better coverage, taking their time with getting down to where Five boy is. They’re definitely going to chase after him. And if they don’t chase, Sanguin will probably just throw her sword out of nowhere or some shit. Surprise all of you at the same time. If the odds could go to 0-1 with her, you’re sure that they would.

Five boy is humming to himself, turning a rock over in his hand. You watch in silent horror as Sanguin and Geare manage to get closer and closer without being detected. Actually, you’re sure that with their skills, they could easily cross the stream and still not be figured out. If they can do this in broad daylight, what can they do when they have the night as their veil?

You don’t like the chill that goes down your spine.

No words pass between Sanguin and Geare, they must decide that they’ll be able to handle Five boy in whatever way they need. The way that they simultaneously come out of the trees, with their hand-picked weapons brandished and the strict expression on their faces. They look like a pair of villains in a children’s fairytale. However, normally those villains are easy to beat and seem to have a chink in their armour. Sanguin and Geare are not like that.

Five spots them almost immediately, eyes widening and darting up, mouth parting as he watches them. You can see the glint of the sun off Sanguin’s sword land in his eyes for a moment, before disappearing off into the trees. No words come from any of them, he just stares as they get closer.

Sanguin and Geare split, wanting to take Five from both sides, which seems to finally set him off. Five jumps to his feet, crouching over slightly, caught in the decision of fight or flight. Would be he able to hold them off? You don’t think so. Would he be able to outrun them? You don’t think so, either. They’re good fighters, Sanguin’s an even-better runner. There’s no way he’s making out of this alive.

Doesn’t mean he can’t try, though.

And like a fucking psychopath, Five boy screams at the top of his lungs. And while that momentarily catches both of the careers off guard, it also makes Annie jerk to life inside of the shack. She grabs her short blade, throwing the door of the shack open to find what’s the matter. Marsh is already on his feet outside, eyes on Annie.

“What was that?” Annie asks, you can hear her this time.

“It’s not far away.” Marsh says, “We shouldn’t stay.”

“We can’t leave now, can we? Where will we go?”

“Up?” Marsh asks.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

Another scream, Five boy has brought his fists up to his face like he’s getting ready to fight. He’s an idiot, he’s going to get himself killed. If Annie can take out One boy--Colt--without blinking her eyes, Sanguin and Geare can both easily do it with their eyes closed. You have slight hope for him, looking at the Line Odds to see what the gamemakers are making of him. He’s at 15-1, worse than Bauhinia.

“He’s fucked!” you exclaim.

Sanguin bites, swinging her sword right at him. He ducks out of the way, jumping at her legs. He takes her out, scrambling on top of her, getting the sword away from him. He raises his fist up high, and before Geare can catch it, slams his fist straight into her teeth. You can feel the ache in your own front teeth, especially since he gave her all knuckle. She’s got to be feeling something.

Geare grabs a hold of Five, yanking him off and backwards into the water, which is now a huge factor. It’s splashing everywhere, getting all of them wet, slowing their movements down. The stream seems to get heavier, moving faster to make balancing impossible. No thanks to the gamemakers, you’re sure. A little interference never hurt anyone, right?

Sanguin scoops up her sword in her wet hands, which are still stained red from Bauhinia’s blood yesterday. She rinsed them off with the water from her water bottle, but even after that, and scrubbing them in the stream not five minutes ago, they’re stained. And they’re about to be stained again, you think.

Geare holds Five boy in place, raising up the sword. Five stays still eyes on the silver blade that’s about to make its home in his chest. His life is probably flashing before his eyes, every mistake he’s ever made is suddenly at the front of his mind. What he said to his family last before they had to say their goodbyes. It’s all he can think about.

Marsh has now geared up for the fight, completely switching gears from his original intention of running, “What if it’s the careers?”

“What--are you hearing yourself? You’re right! What if it’s the careers--you just want to run right on in?”

“There’s two of them, Annie!” Marsh shoves Annie’s backpack into her hands, “And just in case you forgot, we’re careers too! This could be our opportunity!”

“Or it could be our death sentence!” Annie grabs a hold of his arm, “This is stupid.”

“Come or don’t, I’m going down there.”

He tightens the strap on his backpack, quickly making his way down the hill. Annie stands there for a moment, runs a hand through her messy hair, and then lets out a sigh. She heads down there after him, tightening the straps on her own backpack, and gripping and regripping the short blade in her hand. This is bad, very bad.

The fight is about to go from three to five. The original stakes are now unmatched, now that two more careers have been added to the equation. District Four versus Five boy versus what’s left of the career pack. Who’s going to fight who, you wonder. Will Sanguin and Geare stay focused on their original plan, or will they be completely distracted by your tributes.

The tension in your chest has met its breaking point. Loud, shaking, vibrating. This is it. Exactly what you feared is going to happen. Last year, a couple of tributes had managed to kill both of your tributes at the same time. This year, it’s going to be the careers, since Sanguin is dead set on killing Annie at least, and Geare will naturally go for Marsh to finish District Four off once and for all.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick’s rubbing your back.

Sanguin brings the sword down, she misses Five boy by a hair. He turned sideways just in time, but Sanguin’s not fucking around. She’s desperate to get this over with, tired of outsider tributes slipping through her fingers like sand. She raises her sword much quicker now, and slams it through his arm, pinning him to the ground. He screams.

Marsh quickens his pace, Annie quietly ushers him to slow down. He doesn’t listen to her. They both make it down the hill just in time to see Geare pin Five’s other arm down with his foot. Sanguin holds out her hand, Geare hands over his own weapon. One moment, they’re all still, Five has no way of escaping, Marsh and Annie are an audience to some sick show.

Chaos is what happens next. Sanguin moves faster than Marsh had predicted. She easily kills Five, a cannon going off. But Marsh has revealed where he was, moving towards her, swinging his own sword before she can pull hers out of Five. He brings the blade up high, Sanguin flinches to cover her face with her forearm. The blade slices right through her skin, blood flying, a yelp of pain leaving her.

Annie moves forward too, apprehensive at first, like she doesn’t know where to start. Attack Sanguin or Geare? Does she even want to be placed in the middle of this? If she ran now, she could save herself. Fuck, she could run all the way to the village and none of them would be able to catch her. She’d be able to hide herself somewhere where they’d never be able to find her.

And then Sanguin catches sight of Annie, and suddenly the whole mood is shifted. With her target spotted, Marsh is an easy object to get out of the way. She shoves, rips her sword out of Five, blood gushing down her arm at an unhealthy pace, and storms her way over to Annie.

It’s too late for Annie to run now. Her chin lowers, she makes sure that Sanguin can see the shortblade, and the fight really starts. Sanguin swings, Annie dodges and moves closer. It’s the same dancing game that she played with Colt, except this time, Sanguin knows of Annie’s games. For every step Annie takes forward, Sanguin moves backward to keep her away.

At some point, though, she can’t run any further. It’ll make her look like a coward. Annie is persistent, she won’t let up until Sanguin conforms or runs. Subject yourself to the fight, or find a way to get out of there before Annie does some real damage. And since Sanguin isn’t a career for nothing, she steps up. 

Blade on blade, over and over and over again. Annie swings up, Sanguin blocks, slips and goes downward. Annie will narrowly get out of the way before bringing her blade down as hard as she can, breaking through any barriers that Sanguin thought she had built up. You’ll have to say it, they’re evenly matched.

The adrenaline that must be running through them is fucking nuts. Sanguin swings upward, Annie backs out of the way, bringing her short blade down. Sanguin just barely dodges, but you know that she’s in pain because of her arm. Annie tries to fake her out like she did to Colt, but Sanguin works faster than that. It’s okay, Annie recovers.

As for Marsh and Geare, it’s not as intense. They don’t have problems with each other, not like Sanguin and Annie. All Marsh really has to do is take out Geare before Sanguin somehow gets an upper hand on Annie. Once he’s gone, Sanguin will be too. Her pride is too big for her to just run away from a fight she’s been itching for since she first saw Annie during the bloodbath.

Marsh seems more successful. Geare might have scored a ten, but he’s lazy. Almost like he’s trying not to take it as seriously, as if he could also do this without trying. He can’t, the number that Geare scored was a reach. He too, looks like an eight or nine at most, he fights like it.

Annie keeps pushing, her strength never-ending. She’s got the same amount of stamina that Sanguin has, maybe more. The careers can run for hours on end, but you never saw use in something like that. If they get caught in a fight, they’re going to want to keep going, they don’t want to die. Annie can always go back and forth between running and walking, anyway. It’s not that easy when you’re using a sword, or in this case, a short blade.

Sanguin lets out a shout, moving faster than Annie can catch her. Instead of swinging her weapon, which is no doubt having its way with her arms now, she shoves Annie back hard enough for her to topple over. Annie hits the stream water, creating a wave that briefly reaches into the air, and then it comes all crashing down. 

All at once.

Sanguin rolls her wrist, spins toward Marsh and swings. A strangled scream leaves your throat when you cover your mouth. Geare moves out of the way, far back enough for the blade to not even come close to touching him. However, Marsh is unsuspecting, back turned towards Sanguin. He can’t see the blade coming, much less has a reason to think he’s in any sort of danger.

For a second, it’s not as bad as it seems. Sanguin’s blade forces Marsh to his knees with how it hits the back of his legs. But then Geare moves forward, sword over his shoulder, eyes locked on Marsh. The two of them work together seamlessly, it’s almost like they’ve been brainwashed with how their movements are mechanical. 

Geare brings his sword down, sword connecting with the side of Marsh’s neck. There’s no way he can defend himself, Annie just has to sit here and watch. Sit here and take it. The blade goes clean through without a struggle. His silver sword, glittering beautifully in the sunlight, has blood all along the blade.

Another cannon blasts.

Where Marshs’ head was before, has now been replaced by a fountain of deep red blood. The body falls forward, legs slanted uncomfortably. The gamemakers show Annie, and you can see she’s on the edge. There’s tears in her eyes, face slowly turning red. She’s no longer sitting, she’s already on her feet, knuckles white from how hard she’s gripping the hilt.

A stand still, you think. Where will they go from here?

Annie launches herself at Geare, completely pissed. He’s already covered in her former district partner’s blood, but with the way she collided with him, it rubs off on her. They struggle, Sanguin trying to grab a hold of her too. Logically speaking, there’s two against one. Annie shouldn’t get the upper hand here.

But Annie didn’t volunteer for the Hunger Games for nothing.

With one hand wrapped around his forehead, yanking it back, stretching his neck so that it’s accessible, the other hand has her blade sheathed. And with no hesitance, because the longer you wait, the bigger the chance of interference, she slits his throat, and shoves his body forward.

Like yesterday, with the bloody freckles across her face, Sanguin gets a face full of blood. She catches him, arms wrapped around him to make sure he gets down comfortably. Annie spins her blade between her fingers, and finishes off Geare, her short blade in the back of his head. 

Another cannon. Enobaria and Wade are going home.

Annie places her foot on Geare’s back, pushing him forward while she yanks her sword out. Sanguin can’t handle all the weight, so she falls back, trapping her beneath the dead body. Annie stares down at Sanguin for a moment, breathing heavily. She’s caught in a decision, should she take out the last career, once and for all?

It’ll take away the threat. Four people left inside of the games after Sanguin is gone. But it also goes against her moral dilemma of killing people when it’s not needed. She just needs to do it. Sanguin will keep following her if she doesn’t, Annie doesn’t want to be chased, does she?

She’s shaking, eyes filling with tears, “This is your fault. It’s all your fault.”

Sanguin opens her mouth, eyebrows drawn in. She doesn’t speak, only stares and waits. Annie lifts her sword, taking in a deep breath, and slams the blade right through Geare’s back, and into Sanguin. It doesn’t kill her, but it’ll keep her down.

Annie gathers the backpacks, transfers the goods without a single word, and then scoops up Marsh’s sword, finding a spot for it so she doesn’t have to carry. She takes one last look at Sanguin, and then spits on her. Saliva mixed with blood, it lands on Sanguin’s cheek. 

Only three tributes dead, maybe four if Sanguin’s wounds kill her anytime soon. Annie takes off through the trees, straight downhill and towards the village. It’s a shame that it took for Marsh to die for the plans to finally fall through. Either way, she won’t have to worry about Sanguin going after her. She can take her time getting to the village. 

“Okay,” You breathe, “Okay, it could be worse.”

“Why didn’t she just kill Sanguin?” Gloss asks.

“Because she doesn’t need to.” Finnick tells him, “Sanguin isn’t a threat to her, and won’t be for a while.”

It’s quiet, you let out a slight laugh, “We know how stupid it sounds. If Annie had the choice of running away from Geare and Sanguin instead of killing Geare, she would’ve just run.”

“Huh.” Gloss hums.

Enobaria no longer needs to talk to the sponsors. You watch as they all let her go, she slowly bids each and every one of them goodbye. When she finally has her back turned to them, she gives you three an eye roll. Enobaria stops a few feet away.

“Insufferable.” She huffs, “Had I known Geare would be dying today, I would've just stuck with you guys. They act like I need the condolences.”

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t talk to them unless I have to.” Gloss gives her a smile, she glares.

“I’ve got to go tell Wade the news.” She hugs Gloss first, even after what he said, “I’ll see you next year. Good luck.” You're next, she gives an extra squeeze. Finnick gives her a one-armed hug.

“It was good seeing you.” You smile.

“Yeah, whatever—“

Gloss snorts, “I’m sorry for your loss!”

Enobaria flips him off, you all watch as she leaves the betting room. You look at the Line Odds next to see that Annie and Sanguin have moved. Sanguin has gone down to 2-1, probably because Five boy got the jump on her, and Annie was able to match her power. Annie has moved up to 3-1, whereas previously she was 6-1.

Good news, it’s all good news. Annie’s alive, she’s moved up on the odds board. Even if she didn’t kill Sanguin, she at least injured her enough to keep her away. You know for a fact that Sanguin’s going to go running to the cornucopia with her tail between her legs. She’s not going to bother to go after Annie.

For the most part, Annie’s fine. She’s got a scratch here and there from not being able to move out of the way in time, but other than that, she’ll be able to easily overpower Sanguin. Beforehand, Sanguin’s idea of revenge could be supported by her health, now it would be a stupid move. It would be stupid for her to do anything but go home.

“Shouldn’t you be loading up a sponsor?” You ask, looking at Gloss.

“I’m going to let her suffer some. Maybe that’ll make her more humble.”

“I’m pretty sure Annie letting her live was grounding enough.” Finnick mutters, you all laugh.

Annie runs through the trees, she’s almost out of the forest. She’s going faster since it’s all downhill, but the clearing beyond the woods is flat. And the hills will slow her down even more. The problem isn’t so much Sanguin anymore, but the other tributes seeing her. Nine girl, who has her own weapon. The Seven tributes, who are working in a pair.

But as far as you can tell, they're not near the tree line. They seem to be stuck where they are, probably confused about the three cannons. One and two are normal, signifies a small fight, maybe the careers ran into other tributes, or the careers lost one of their own altogether. But three is bigger, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

Sanguin is still laying underneath Geare, wincing each time she moves. A moan will leave her mouth when she tries to push him off, the sword blade digging around in her wound. She pants, pauses, and tries again, gritting her teeth. Geare is bigger than her, it’s going to take a moment to get him off of her. She’s probably under some sort of pressure, knowing that everyone is watching, that the gamemakers are waiting to collect the bodies.

She presses her hands against Geare’s shoulders, slowly pushing him off. It’s like peeling a bloody shirt off of a wound, you’ve got to do it slowly if you want little to no pain. All at once is going to hurt like a bitch. However, at the angle she’s going with, it’s probably making things a whole lot worse.

She barely slips out from underneath Geare before he comes crashing back to the ground, sword hitting the dirt next to her. She lets out a groan, fingers finding her stomach. She’s in the same situation that you were in five years ago. Except her wound is all surface, hardly goes that deep. Your entire knife got shoved in, five to six inches, maybe more? Sanguin is going to survive.

She gets to her feet, grabbing her sword. Annie left her nothing, so she’s got to get to the cornucopia before sundown if she wants to be safe. She stands around the area for a couple of seconds longer, looking over Five, Marsh and then Geare. Her face twists angrily, and she shouts.

Sanguin brings her sword up, and then slams it into Geare’s back, “Fuck!”

She leaves, turning the way that she’d come with Geare and Vanilee a day ago, and starts going downhill diagonally. She keeps with this path for a while, a couple of hours, at least. The stream was only three miles off to the right of the cornucopia, with where they had started on the first day, it made it seem a whole lot longer.

Either way, Sanguin makes it to the cornucopia at the same time Annie makes it over the one important hill that’ll hide her from Sanguin. With the village right in front of her, Annie starts running again. The second that she’s stepped foot onto the washed-out soil, she collapses to her knees.

You stand from where you’re sitting with Gloss and Finnick, “Is she hurt?”

“Why would she be?” Gloss asks, he presses his lips together, and then sits up, “I’ve got to send Sanguin some medication. I’ll be back.”

Gloss finds his usual people, always ready on-hand for him to come by so they can send his tributes a gift. They talk for a moment, and then he leads them over to where he’ll confirm and send the sponsor gift.

As for Annie, her hands have curled into fists, body shaking. You’re not sure what’s happening until you’re allowed to hear, just in time for her to gasp and sob, whimpering. She sniffs, slamming her fist into the dirt a couple of times, turning her knuckles red. Annie sits up, staring into the village with bloodshot eyes. She wipes under her eyes and nose, a frown on her face.

The relief that goes through you really is like a wave. She’s not hurt, just grieving for Marsh. It’s natural with tributes that are close to each other. Annie and Marsh have been side by side since the beginning, partners in crime. Losing him was inevitable, they’re so far into the games now. It’s been less than a week and there’s only five left. From here on out, they need to treat the games like they’re almost over.

You take a seat back on the couch, lacing your fingers and leaning forward on your knees. You’re all allowed to watch a split screen of Sanguin receiving her sponsor gift, and Annie pulling herself together enough to find a place to stay for the night. She drags her feet through the dirt, but it’s not deep enough path for a tracker like Sanguin to come around and follow it.

Annie walks for thirty minutes before picking a three-story house. When she walks inside, you can see that the floorboards are rotting, the yellow-flowered wallpaper is curling off the walls, and the staircase on the first floor is missing quite a few steps. Annie doesn’t care, she tightens her grip on her belongings and takes one step at a time. The second floor’s staircase is much sturdier, same for the floors. The walls are just as bad.

She picks a far back room, sets everything down, and rolls out what she’ll need for tonight. With how she’s not unpacking everything, and putting things back after she’s done, Annie doesn’t want to stay where she is. Or she’s keeping everything ready just in case someone does come after her. After today, you can’t blame her, but she’s all by herself inside of the village.

Sanguin sits herself in the grass, carefully pulls her healing cream out of the silver package, disregarding whatever note that Gloss has decided to give her. Speaking of which, he joins you guys back at the couch, sitting on the arm. Sanguin squirts the contents of the tube onto her fingers, and then lifts her shirt for everyone to see.

Not a pretty sight, where the short blade had cut her is a huge gash. Dried blood around it, with how she flexes her stomach when trying to look for herself, more blood surfaces, and runs down her skin. She glares, grits her teeth, and then digs her fingers inside, trying to spread it inside to make the healing process faster. Her face turns a deep shade of red, holding her breath. When she’s done the first time, she lets out a breath of air, recuperates, and then goes again.

It’s six in the evening before anyone in the arena begins to settle down for the night. Annie has made her bed, she eats and drinks water, trying not to cry anymore than she has already today. Sanguin doesn’t have any water, which means that tomorrow she’ll have a decision to make; stay inside of the cornucopia, where she knows it’s safe, or risk going out to get water. You have a feeling that her pride is too much to allow her to just stay inside and be thirsty.

As for Nine girl, where she’s stopped is actually fairly close to where the Seven tributes are. Maybe a mile or so apart, the Seven tributes are at their huts as usual, towards the top of the arena. Nine girl is somewhere in the middle, if she continues traveling up tomorrow, she’ll come across the team easily. For now, she makes a bed of grass and uses her backpack as a pillow.

“I think I’m going back to the apartment.” Finnick says, he yawns and pushes himself up from the couch, “You’ve got it handled?”

“Yeah, of course.” you give him a smile, “I’ll go and get you later. Eat before you go to bed.”

“I can take care of myself.” he says, and then waves to Gloss, “See you later.”

“Bye.” Gloss holds up his hand briefly, and then turns back to the screen.

You get comfortable on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. Not everyone is turning in for the night in the arena, but they might as well be. Something tells you that there’s not going to be another big event in the arena tonight. You can take it easy, probably even go out to dinner and come back and relax.

“When’s Cashmere supposed to be down here?” you ask, looking over at Gloss.

He hums, “A couple of hours, why?”

“We should all get dinner together before you switch out.”

“Sure.”

--

Without the weight in your stomach holding you down to the bed this afternoon, you slip out of bed with a yawn. You stretch your arms over your head, dragging your feet to the closet to pick out today’s outfit. Your fingers fumble, still half-asleep and squinting to be able to see properly. 

Dark blue jeans, a red tank top, black underwear. You throw it all over your arm as you reach to grab the tennis shoes, not really liking all the other options. You’re actually fairly sure that the last time you wore flats, you got blisters on the back of your feet. It’s hard to focus on your tributes when you’re complaining about the pain in your feet all day.

You throw your clothes onto the bed, as well as the shoes. On the way to the bathroom, you lock your bedroom door to make sure that you’re not going to get any unwanted guests. The shower water is warm almost instantly, but as soon as you’re dipping your fingers inside to double-check--a force of habit--you’re quickly turning the knob to make the water more cold.

Naturally, the Tribute Center has an automatic system that adjusts the heating and AC to make it comfortable for everyone inside. But this afternoon, things are particularly hot. It’s been that way since last night, when you had to shed practically everything to even get your body to a normal temperature. For good measure, you took a second shower, also cold.

It must be some sort of heatwave, thanks to the summer. And the window that you’re dealing with inside of your room probably isn’t helping all that much, either. By allowing the sun rays inside, you’re subsequently signing yourself up for the warmth that comes with it. Unfortunately, the windows don’t really come with blinds, so you just have to put up with it.

You do have to say that the heatwave inside of the Tribute Center is nothing compared to what you deal with at home. You have AC in your victor house, of course, but all the years prior when you’d just have to bear the sweat and flushed faces was like existing in hell. The only way to get away from the heat, if you weren’t swamped with housework via your brothers, was to go down to the beach and sit in the water for a while. But shedding clothes meant sunburns, and sunscreen goes up in price during the summer.

You’ve gotten used to it over the years, as you’ve grown older, you’ve also developed the philosophy of not letting stuff like that get to you anymore. Especially with not how Alyssum is getting older. If you pretend to act like everything is just fine with the heat, eventually she’ll have to stop complaining when she realizes that no one relates to her mundane problem.

However, shirts sticking to your back, using folders as fans and the irritating feeling of sweat rolling down your skin isn’t always ignorable. At least she doesn’t have to deal with you, Reed and Mox telling her that she should’ve felt what it was like to live in the shack for all these years. There’s been a silent agreement not to compare the previous living situation to the one you have now. It’s not her fault she’s living the way she is now. Plus, you think that you’d rather save those stories for when you’re old and wrinkly.

The cold water feels nice on your skin for a while, until it begins to make you cold. You step out, tie your hair out of your face and get dressed. Looking in the mirror today, there’s definitely a difference on your face. You’re not as sullen, yesterday it almost looked like someone told you that your dog died. Might as well have, Marsh is gone, and he’s not coming back.

Marsh placed seventh, with a final Line Odd of 6-1. He scored a nine on his training score, he had the Capitol in tears during his interview. He’s memorable, especially with the way that he went charging toward the careers. His intention might not have been to save Five boy, but it was still noble to face them head-on. You can only hope that none of this is in vain, that Annie will survive.

You get dressed, place your ring on your finger and hurry out to the dining room. It’s almost one already, and you haven’t even eaten yet. Dread isn’t the only thing that can ball and chain you to a bed, worry is pretty good at it too. Even better when you don’t fall asleep until late in the morning.

You shouldn’t be stressing yourself out like this, Annie is fine. She’s in the village, far away from Sanguin, who’s still injured, as far as you know. All the tributes that she would have had to worry about before are now miles away from where she is now. Hell, Sanguin would have to walk hours up and down hills just to get to Annie. And then what? Annie would be able to defend herself.

The tv is already on when you get out there, which makes you think that the avoxes had done it so that you wouldn’t have to ask today, until you see that Elysia is sitting at the table. There’s a mug in her hand, it has coffee in it, you don’t even have to pretend like you don’t know. It might be the afternoon, but she takes in caffeine like it’s an alcohol addiction.

“Hey.” you say, making her look up.

She raises her eyebrows, a smile crossing her face, “Good afternoon. How are you holding up?”

“Could be a lot worse, Annie’s a survivor.” you sit at the table, watching as cold cut sandwiches, fizzy beverages and potato chips are placed on the table. It’s not much of a fancy feast, the Capitol does this sometimes when it’s a casual afternoon.

“I’d say.” Elysia looks over to the tv.

You look over too, it’s focused on Annie at the moment. It looks like she’s finally unpacked her things, but she hasn’t moved from the back corner. Sanguin, Geare and Vanilee’s bed rolls are placed inside of each other. It’s a good way to keep warmth and make it a little comfortable. 

Food, knives, water are spread around her. She won’t be needing water refills anytime soon, she’s inherited all the dead tributes’ water jugs. You think that if she drinks enough to keep her body going, she’ll have enough to last her a week, maybe two if she really tests her limits. 

She’s sitting in the corner of the room, legs to her chest, arms wrapped around them to keep them from slipping. Her hair is messy, eyes bloodshot, bags beneath her eyes. She didn’t sleep at all last night, there’s no question about it. But at least all the scratches and cuts that were inflicted have healed. She applied the medication last night before she laid down to sleep.

You sat down in the betting room for a while with just Gloss. As soon as Cashmere came around, you kept to your idea and went out to dinner with them. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, you didn’t even bother to get a private room to eat at. It was a soup and bread place, you stayed as long as you could before Gloss fell asleep on the table.

It was nice catching up with Cashmere, she said that she’d seen Enobaria and Wade just before they left for the train. Wade was reasonably upset, but Enobaria didn’t even look phased. In fact, Cashmere leaned across the table and whispered; “Enobaria says that she hopes Annie wins.” You’re glad you have these guys as your friends, even if they have to go home, there’s no malicious intent.

They’re your best friends, through and through.

After dinner, Gloss went back to his apartment, and you were left with Cashmere for a little while. You caught her up on a lot that’s happened inside of the arena, your opinions, how you guys hung around Cecelia for a while. Cashmere agreed that Sanguin’s experience with Annie was probably enough to bring her back to reality. They’re teenagers, tributes in the Hunger Games, they can’t control anything, much less try and play god. 

As soon as the first conversation was over, Cashmere started a second one about Finnick. Which made you groan with a, “It’s not that important, Cash.” But she wouldn’t let it go until you answered her questions. She hasn’t been able to ask you all the juicy details in private like she’s really wanted to.

There’s not much to tell. You let her know that Finnick was asking about you to Gloss while you weren’t there yesterday. And the night before you spent hours talking on the balcony after Bauhinia died. The two of you came to the conclusion that Finnick is deciding that he’s going to stay for a while--which you’d partially come up with by yourself yesterday.

Cashmere said it was a good sign, good for you when it comes to mentoring and the boarding school. You can finally chill out and be there for Alyssum more after school instead of relying on Reed and Mox to take care of her all the time, “You don’t want to be the absent older sister, trust me.” She’s right, it would be a shame to be so focused on saving other teenagers in District four, and completely miss out on Alyssum’s innocence while she still has it. A couple more years and she’s enrolling into the boarding school early.

After that was over, you went ahead and got Finnick before you would be too exhausted to get up this morning. Your attempts were, obviously, futile, as you hardly slept last night and you’re tired anyway. Finnick’s lucky you’re reliable, otherwise you would have considered staying in bed for a little while longer. What ruined that idea is the sweltering heat of the fucking Tribute Center. 

And since the betting room is quite literally under a glass roof, you can’t imagine that it’s very cold in there, either. In fact, you’re sure that it’s going to be worse. Which now makes you partially consider changing into a pair of shorts so you’re not stuck sweating the entire day. The tank top is nice, but it only brings you so far.

Ugh.

Sanguin is up and at it already, heading towards the woods in the direction of the stream. Figures that she wouldn’t wait a little while to give herself time to heal. She’s always on top of it, always moving. A part of you wonders if she put on healing cream as soon as she got up this morning, or if she’s waiting to do it later tonight.

Either way, she’s got a full backpack again, her sword is propped up against her shoulder with the blade flat. Exactly how she’d carried it before she went and murdered the boy from Three. To think that was only two days ago is fucking insane, it feels like forever. But you guess that’s just what happens when you get back to back days of absolute mayhem.

The Seven tributes are wandering around, heading into their own personal uncharted territory of the left side. Well, actually there’s a lot where they haven’t been before, always keeping to their safe bubble. It’s not a bad strategy, but they can get away with it for so long. The gamemakers don’t like comfortable. Comfortable means you need to be pushed outside of your boundaries and experience new things.

As for Nine girl, you think she’s unintentionally stalking the District Seven tributes, with how she’s trailing them. She could very well be tracking, but the path that Seven is leaving isn’t all that obvious. It’s too obvious to be a coincidence, maybe she’s just trying to play it off that way? Or see where District Seven leads her? You’re surprised she isn’t cloud watching today. She’s sitting pretty, does she really need to follow the other tributes around?

You eat your sandwiches, watching the tributes move around inside of the arena. Annie stays put, Sanguin gets closer to the stream, Seven is nearly in the section all the way off to the left. When you’re done eating, you have the avoxes pack up some sandwiches for your friends inside of the betting room, and get ready to go.

You take one step towards the door, before you’re stuck where you are, watching what’s unfolding on the screen. 

Uncharted territory can be dangerous for obvious reasons. The tributes don’t know what they’re heading into, which means that they don’t know what to expect. Foreign animals, plants, traps set up by the gamemakers to ensure a pleasant surprise. Heading off into the unknown means that you’re expecting unpredictable situations. Anything can happen the moment you’re no longer in your safe space.

Because of this, it’s important to keep a schedule. Let the gamemakers come to you, they’ll be playing on your side of the court for this reason. But walk right into what they want, you’re subjected to their own house of horrors. And the only way of making it out alive, is fighting for freedom, or hoping your counterpart isn’t as good as you are.

The gamemakers hardly ever allow both tributes live. If they did that, it would take away the entire entertainment aspect. Not allow the Capitol people to see tributes like Annie fall apart at the seams because she doesn’t have her best friend around her anymore. You’re not sure what’s so fun about a depressed, sleep-deprived teenager but… to each their own.

Seven girl is leading, with the male tribute just behind her. Everything appears to be just fine, there’s no visual signs that they’re about to be submerged into frigid waters. Then they’re warned, a howl loud and clear, telling them to turn back and go away now, before they continue to make the mistake that they’re working on.

Maybe the tributes don’t hear the wolves, maybe they’re so caught up in their own heads that the silence breaking doesn’t register. Or maybe they choose to ignore it, because it’s a couple of wolves, and animals tend to run away once they realize that there’s something much bigger trying to challenge them. Because of their blatant obliviousness, they’ve fucked themselves over.

They’re not any ordinary wolves. They’re Capitol-made and controlled mutts.

The first one breaks through the trees, huge, black, eyes belonging to the devil himself. The girl catches sight of the genetically mutated mutts, comes to a complete stop, and then spins herself around. She takes off running, grabbing onto her district partners arm, snapping him out of his daydreaming daze, bringing him right back to reality.

They run together, arms pumping at their sides. The boy doesn’t care what path he takes, through thickets, thorns, and between trees that shouldn’t be possible to squeeze past. The girl however, is more careful about where she goes, thinking that it’ll help her move quickly, knowing where she’s stepping and that the path is definitely clear. It’s working the other way around. For once, a lack of carelessness is going to be the downfall of a tribute.

She falls behind, the wolves gaining on them both more and more. The pounding of their paws against the dirt is loud enough for the Capitol cameras to pick up. Like a heartbeat, a steady thrum against the ground. It’s also a telling sign that the Seven girl needs to give up her act or accept her death.

It’s frustrating, especially since she doesn’t even seem to notice her mistakes. One of the first rules of being chased is always being aware of how close they are. She doesn’t have to do it by looking behind her, which is always a mistake the idiots seem to make. She can just hear the footsteps all by themselves, getting louder and louder. Doesn’t she have any will to live?

If she does, she doesn’t get a chance to prove it. The lead wolf uses its hindlegs to launch itself at her. It’s mouth unhinges like a python snake, revealing rows of sharp teeth, drool coming out as a long string. It pounces on Seven girl, snarling, and bites straight into the back of her neck. The screaming is loud, you wince and sit back down at the dining room table.

The wolves around the leader continue after Seven boy, which comes as a fair surprise to you. But then again, the girl isn’t necessarily dead just yet. As soon as that cannon goes off, it’s like a whistle to the dogs. They’ll all go back to whatever hell hole they crawled out of. They might even be used a different year, for the exact same purpose that they’re serving now.

The leader bites down, and whips its head to the side. A mouthful of flesh rips out of the girl, her scream loud enough to be heard as a warning to both Seven boy, and Nine girl. Run, and run fast if you want to survive. The blood coats the tree bark around the girl, drips off the flesh that was previously attached to her body. Her hands twitch, eyes open and rolling to the back of her head.

It’s more or less the same situation that Bauhinia was in. But instead of it being done by another tribute, which will definitely leave a permanent impression on mentors and future tributes alike, this is being done by a mutt. The Capitol has specifically engineered these guys to do this. Bite, rip, rinse, repeat. Seven girl’s screams start off loud, but slowly die out like she’s lost her voice.

The next wolf that is leading on Seven boy, jumps at him just like the last wolf did to Seven girl. However this time, instead of all the other surrounding wolves continuing forward, they swarm and maul the boy. Their teeth are just as sharp, but without all the rows. You’d say that his situation is better, but he’s got more mutts going at him from different angles, with no time to breathe in between bites. 

By the time that Seven girl does die, allowing the wolves to go home, the boy is severely hurt. Puncture wounds from the teeth, shredded skin, half his face is missing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a noise. He just lays in the grass like he’s already dead, the only thing keeping him from being collected by the gamemakers like his district partner, is the cannon. 

He’s a living soul in his corpse of a body. 

It’s like sleep paralysis. He can’t speak, can’t move. He’s stuck where he is, like a suffering dog that just needs to be put out of his misery. But there’s no one to do it. You all will just get the pleasure of watching this poor boy wheeze and bleed. Doesn’t mean much for entertainment, his life is practically over.

The only tribute that’s nearby is Nine girl. But there’s no promise that she was following the Seven tributes in the first place. It looked like it, now you’ll just have to wait and see if it was true. This could take hours, and she has a bigger chance of accidentally missing him than stumbling upon him in the bushes. It’s not like he’s being loud.

You stand up from the table again, “I’ve got to get downstairs before anything else happens.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

You go down the steps and through the door. You punch the elevator button, head down to where the betting room is, bad quietly walk down the hallway. It’s all barren cement, no one hangs out here, and the peacekeepers standing outside of the door are required. Just in case a few mentors get too upset, because the Capitol people hardly ever care about rivalries.

The moment you open the door, a cool breeze hits your face. No wonder why the Tribute Center is so hot, the betting room is hogging all of the air conditioning. The glass ceiling is now blocked by a white cover to reflect the sun and ensure that you all won’t be sweating like pigs. Because of the cover, it’s dark, which is why there’s colored lights strung up on hooks. Almost like Christmas lights, but somehow less fun and more sophisticated.

Finnick and Gloss are already sitting at a white table, so you head over and drop the basket of food in the middle. 

“Did you see what happened?” Finnick asks, watching as you unload the basket.

“Yeah, Elysia and I watched it together.” You then move the basket off the table and onto the floor, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I guess the gamemakers were bored.”

“Or they have a vendetta against the Seven mentors.” Gloss cocks his head in the direction of where they’re standing off to the side. Arms crossed, angry faces. They’ve been screwed over, you can’t really blame them. Their tributes couldn’t even defend themselves, “Thanks for the lunch.”

“Figured you guys were hungry.” you look at Finnick, “What are you making of Annie?”

He shrugs, uncapping the bottled fizzy drink, “Well, besides the obvious fact that she’s some form of depressed, I think she’s in shock. How long did her and Marsh know each other?”

“They were only a year apart. So, since Annie was fourteen and he was thirteen.”

“Four years.” Gloss says, “A long time to build a friendship. What about you and Finnick, how long did you two know each other prior to your Hunger Games? I remember you guys being mentioned as friends at some point.”

You make a face, not entirely sure, “Well, I was a sophomore and he was a freshman…”

“Middle school?” Finnick proposes, but he doesn’t look confident either, “Only a year or whatever. We mostly saw each other in the hallway, and then it went on from that after my girlfriend dumped me.”

“Which one?” you ask, half-kidding, half-serious.

Finnick gives you a look, “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember which girlfriend?” Gloss asks.

You snort, “He has brain damage from all the girls he’s gone through. I can name fifteen he went through while we were just friends.”

“It was not fifteen!” Finnick defends, face turning a shade of red, “Probably only five or something.”

“Probably.” Gloss has a smile on his face, clearly enjoying Finnick’s discomfort.

“Finnick, just trust me for once when I say that it was fifteen.” You muse.

“Except there weren’t fifteen girls in my class that liked me like that. I should know.” 

You and Gloss share a look, and then laugh. He wouldn’t know, it’s not always obvious when girls have crushes on people. Girls learn to hide it when the guy or girl they like is after someone else in that moment. You wouldn’t be surprised if his entire grade of girls had liked him, and only a quarter of them showed it. Finnick thinking that he’s aware of everything is a complete joke.

The Afternoon Line Odds say that all the remaining tributes are standing where they were yesterday. There’s only four tributes inside of the games, about to be three as soon as Seven boy is gone. Annie, Sanguin and Nine girl, who you really need to find a name for to make it all easier to say. 

“Do you guys know the name of the girl from Nine?” you ask, running a hand through your hair for any snarls that might exist in your ponytail.

Gloss’ face scrunches up, eyes finding the Line Odds too, “Uh…”

Finnick tilts his head from side to side, also thinking. They’re just as clueless as you are. You can’t even remember if anyone mentioned her name outside of the training score and interviews. Everyone normally stops paying attention after District Four, for obvious reasons. No one can really compare. The only person you think would know her name is Annie, mostly because she likes to keep track of stuff like that.

It’s not like you can really ask her. And you can’t really pull a name out of thin air, anyway. When it comes to the districts, you guys have ridiculous names just as much as people in the Capitol do. Gloss? Cashmere? Enobaria? What about Anchor and Marsh? Even Sanguin’s name isn’t really a name. It’s an adjective, based off the word sanguine, which means positivity or something dumb like that.

Of course, this philosophy can’t apply to everyone. Finnick’s name is normal, so is Mags, Luther, Scotch, Wade and Cecelia. It only really falls apart when it comes to last names, like Gallows or Golding. At some time or another, you all came from the Capitol, or you great grandparents changed their last names to make them more fierce during the rebellion. That last part is especially true when it comes to your family.

You don’t remember the original last name, just that Gallows wasn’t inherited through a husband. Your great-grandmother had changed it after the nickname she got from the people around her in District Four. She was in on the plan before the rebellion had even started, and got a head start when it came to taking out peacekeepers and Capitol officers in the district. It was suspicious after a while, how every single one of them committed suicide the same way, one by one. After all the known Capitol people were gone, she was onto traitors, and she was good at finding them.

Hanging people from rope relates to the gallows. However, after the rebellion failed, she wasn’t able to go back to her regular life. With the conspicuous last name, and the way that people would talk when she came around, her position was found quickly. She was a wanted woman inside of District Four by high-standing officers. By then, she’d already birthed your grandmother, who was being held at someone else’s house during the day, and went unfound by the peacekeepers when they went looking to wipe out your family.

Your great-grandparents died, as well as any of their siblings, grandchildren, cousins, whatever. The only person left was your grandmother, who got sent into the foster care system with the last name still attached. And since there was no family to help her revert back to the original last name, she just kept Gallows out of spite. What are the peacekeepers going to do eighteen years after the fact? Kill her? She was a baby when it happened, wouldn’t even be able to recall the details, much less looked like she had an inkling to continue her mother’s murder path.

It’s a fun story to tell to the older kids, you know that your brothers enjoyed it when they got to exaggerate every little detail and add in facts of their own. As you got older, they filtered out the bullshit to make it more believable. Even now, the entire story seems like it’s out of some dark fairytale or something. With no happy ending.

“I think it starts with a T.” Finnick says.

“Huh?” you ask, looking at him.

“The girl’s name.” 

“I think you’re right!” Gloss says, he’s rubbing his forehead, “What the fuck was it?”

“Something stupid that ended in a vowel.”

“That starts with a T?” your face twists.

Finnick hums for a moment, listening as Gloss tries out names. Then, Finnick’s face lights up entirely, slamming his hands on the table, “Tekla!”

“Tekla?” Gloss pauses for a moment, “Oh fuck, you’re right.”

You nod slowly, taking their word for it. So, Seven boy, Tekla, Sanguin and Annie. The boy dies, it only leaves the three girls. What an accomplishment, to completely unintentionally wipe out the guys. You don’t want to say that they’re a bigger opponent, but they typically have an upper hand when it comes to fighting. It’s like they’ve been taking drugs.

Finnick and Gloss eat their lunch, you all come down with your final predictions on what’s going to happen inside of the arena. You all think that Sanguin and Annie will be fine, since they’re miles apart and both caught in their own worlds at the moment. The real problem is Tekla and her moving around so often. She knows that Sanguin is alone in the cornucopia by herself, and she also knows that she could sneak up on Sanguin since she has a weapon of her own. Courtesy of when the careers had left the cornucopia alone.

Seven boy is still alive an hour and a half later. Tekla has slowed down in the direction she was heading. She doesn’t look unsure, more that she’s lost motivation, you guess? Or maybe she’s lost the path that the Seven tributes were taking before they stumbled into the Capitol trap. Either way, there’s no telling whether or not she’ll actually be able to find the boy.

Every time you think that the boy has finally breathed for the final time, he inhales sharply, like he’s being pushed back into his body. It’s a shame, watching him struggle like this. You’re sure that he should be dead by now, well past his expiration date. Hell, soon the bugs are going to start to get to him. If you thought the wolves were bad, watching him being eaten alive is going to be worse. Much, much worse.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.” Gloss says, gathering the trash, “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t have too much fun.” you smile, he gives you a mock look before leaving. You turn to Finnick, “I’m thinking of going out and drinking after this. You wanna come?”

“With or without Gloss?” Finnick asks, eyebrows drawing in.

“If it were with Gloss, I would’ve asked while he was here.” you wiggle your eyebrows, “Come on. Me and you, at that awful drinking place, The Victory Speech.”

He purses his lips, “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Annie’s safe inside of her house, what’s the worst that can happen overnight?”

“The dam breaks?”

“You think that the Capitol would do that right after mauling two tributes to death?” you look at the timer above the Morning Line Odds that says how long the tributes have been in there for. It’s a couple hours less than seven days, “The games haven’t been even going for a week, they’ll want to draw it out for a little while longer.”

Finnick gives you a look.

“Don’t start acting like a parent, I’m older than you.” you point at him, “Yes or no. Or I’ll ask Gloss and Cashmere--”

“Yes.” Finnick says.

You grin, “You won’t have some sort of relapse, right?”

“Haha.” he rolls his eyes, “Ready to get shitfaced off the water-tasting alcohol?”

“I am going to have three of those in a row just to see what happens.” you laugh, he does too.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’ll give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“I’ll probably be fine.” You shrug, “Won’t be my first near-death experience.”

Finnick cracks up, shaking his head.

It’s only another thirty minutes before Tekla does come across Seven boy by accident. She wouldn’t have even known he was there if it weren’t for the wheeze he let out as a warning before she stepped on him. He’s hidden under bushes, camouflaged in. The only obvious sign that he’s there is his legs, but even then, they were easily missed by Tekla.

She stands over him, eyebrows drawn in. Her eyes will occasionally flicker up like she’s looking for someone, like it’s some sort of trap and a tribute is waiting for her to be off her guard to attack. Unfortunately, it’s none of those things. Just bad luck, and horrible timing. She crouches down next to him, face twisting as she carefully moves leaves out of the way to see him properly. 

“Gross.” she says, “I don’t even know how you’re still alive.” Tekla shakes her head like she’s getting rid of her thoughts, standing back up on her feet, “It’s over now. Rest easy.”

She raises her weapon and puts him out of his misery. A second cannon goes off, making Sanguin stop in her tracks, looking up at the sky for a moment. The Fallen won’t show until later tonight, but the tributes all have the same reactions, anyway. It’s because the sound comes from above them, so naturally they’re going to want to see where it comes from.

As for Annie, she barely snaps back to life long enough to squint, allow wrinkles to appear on her face, and then she relaxes again. She sets her head back against the wall and closes her eyes, gripping onto her sword tightly. You wonder if she came to the conclusion that she’s one of the final three inside of the arena now. Annie’s made it, she’s beaten all the tributes from District Four that came before her.

Hang in there, Annie. You’ll be home soon.

--

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio / @suranne-doesstuff

[staticscreenwriting]

California Summer - B.H. Smut [one]

Synopsis: Kings Cove California is Billy Hargrove’s hometown. It’s also a popular summer vacation destination for rich couples and their spoiled kids. (Y/N) is one of those rich girls. Proper, sweet, innocent. Only that all bores her to death and Billy is just the adventure she’s been looking for. It’s all fun and games. A summer fling. Not strings attached. Right? 

Inspired by the songs “dreaming of you” and “Kiss it off me” by Cigarettes After Sex.

 A/N: This is smut, babes. Filthy. I will sit in the shame cube after I post it. Please if that is not fore you, don’t read it. Also do not interact if you’re under 18, that’s just not cool. Kay, thanks ♥

Might fuck around and make this a series.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

There’s something about California summers, Billy thinks, thank makes them special. They’re hot and sticky and messy but they’re also exciting and exhilarating. The world seems to be dusted in a perpetual golden glow and days seem endless and full of possibility.

Maybe that sentiment is what brings all the tourists to the little coastal town of Kings Cove, California. A town caught between the undeniable charm of an old sleepy coastal town and the ever-expanding demand for tourist-friendly beach houses in gated communities where rich people can relish in the charm the town brings and then piss off once their vacation days are over.

Billy was born here, raised here until he was 17 and shipped off to forge his path in shitville Indiana. He was miserable then, but a shadow of himself. Angry and sad and overwhelmed by emotions he never learned to properly deal with. Singers and artists always seem to find something poetic about being young and angry and lost. Truth is: there’s nothing poetic about it, nothing romantic or desirable. It’s hard and it kills you slowly. Starting with your heart and then taking over every part of you, slowly but surely.

Soon as he turned 18 and was handed his High School diploma, Billy packed all his belongings into the Camaro and was off. The drive back to California, back home, it felt cleansing. Like a rebirth. A return to life at his own terms.

He got out. He survived. This, Billy is sure, he would always pride himself with no matter how trivial it may seem to anyone else. He got out. Not completely whole. Severely bruised. He got out with a heart so scared he’s sceptical it will ever fully heal. But he got out.

Though coming home didn’t come without its hardships and obstacles. There was nothing waiting for him here but a bunch of questions and an uncertain future. Finding a job, a place to stay, a point from which to start — it was hard. It still is hard. But he’s trying his best.

Kings Cove has a handful of restaurants, some convenience stores, a gym, a few bars, a drive-in, a normal cinema and a bowling alley. It’s really nothing spectacular and yet it seems there’s more and more tourist making it their temporary home in the months between May and September. It started about 5 years ago, that the town started changing with the increase in tourism. They bulldozed the playground Billy always played at, the one closest to the beach and built a bunch of fancy-ass houses and condos and a fucking Starbucks. It pains him to see it. To watch the town he loves so much, the one that holds so much charm, turn into a sandbox for rich people to shape and turn and make it something it isn’t. Something empty and lifeless.

The good thing about those tourists though, is that they are really really rich. Absolutely filthy rich. The kind of rich where they don’t know what to do with their money so you can charge them insane prices for ordinary things.

And that’s what the locals have started doing. A scoop of ice cream used to be 30ct, now it’s a dollar. You gotta bend with the world. You gotta adapt. Surviving means changing even if it sucks ass.

When he first arrived back, Billy had no idea how to navigate this place with all its changes. He felt so god damn out of place in his own home. That’s until he reconnected with Johnny, an old friend from middle school. A kid who grew up in a home filled with anger and sadness just as Billy did. Someone who understood. Someone who understands.

Johnny had it all figured out, adapted and changed. Got Billy a job at the maintenance business he works at. Fixing rain gutters and mowing lawns and cleaning driftwood off the sections of private beach belonging to the beach houses. It’s not the greatest job in the world but it’s alright and it pays good money and sometimes Billy even gets to hang out at the houses when the rich people are out taking surf lessons or doing a wine tasting a town over or try their luck on a god damn banana boat.

Kings Cove is small and the locals know each other. They’re a community tightly bonded through their shared disdain for the change their beloved town went through and the knowledge that though they can’t change anything, they can at least make the vacationers pay big money for everything.

It’s his second summer now and most of the families whose houses he tends to he’s already familiar with. You don’t forget the people who tip you 50 bucks each time. On Mondays, Billy cares for the Millers’ backyard. On Wednesday he makes sure the Callaghans’ pool is clean and still stinks of way too much chlorine. On Thursdays, it’s the Franklins’ estate that needs tending to. And weekends? Those are off.

Weekends mean he gets to enjoy the California summer himself. He goes out to the beach just after sunrise, to catch a few waves or just hang out in the ocean and let it wash away the stress resting on his shoulders from a whole week of hard work. Later, much later, when the sun is about to set, the real fun begins. There’s a bonfire almost every week. No one is ever quite sure who starts it and no official invitations are ever spoken though everyone knows and sure enough, every Saturday a crowd of young people gather by the driftwood pile and hang out and drink and dance as the bonfire crackles on.

It’s not just locals either. There’s always a few stray tourists there. Billy isn’t really all that interested in getting to know them. This is just a blip on their radar. A temporary adventure. But to him this place is home and he’s so fucking tired of these rich kids coming around and acting like they own the place. He’s the first to admit though, that the girls are quite hot and he doesn’t mind a little fling here and there without the fear of having them want anything permanent, knowing their time together comes with an expiry date. They can be quite fun and they’re so willing to let themselves fall into an intimate adventure with a local.

There’s no chase, no effort from him. The only annoying thing is they usually don’t grasp the idea of a summer fling and get clingy to the point where it becomes frustrating.

It’s a bonfire like any other, when his eyes drift across the beach, filled with people mingling all clutching a bottle or a cup. Nothing feels different or spectacular or special. But maybe that’s the thing about special moments — we don’t realise they’re special until we look at them in retrospect. And then they mean everything.

His eyes meet hers across the way. There are no fireworks. His heart beats at a normal rate. Whatever the movies and the songs try to sell you, that’s not how it really happens. Your world won’t shift and there will be no hummingbirds going wild in your stomach. It’s just a glance, a flicker. A moment that seems to hold no significance at all.

Billy can tell she’s not from here. Her outfit says it all. She’s wearing a long flowy skirt and a white tank top and some denim jacket over it that looks like it probably belongs to some boy with a trust fund and a name like Kyle or Charles. In her hair, there’s a clip with a fake flower on it. She looks expensive and fancy and like a piece of work that he’s not willing to put any effort in. He bets the guy beside her, the one that keeps playing with her hair. The one in the polo shirt. That’s probably her boy. His dad owns a boat for sure and probably fucks his secretary.

And even though he pulls his eyes away, he can feel his thoughts drift back towards her. As if some magnetic force tries to keep his mind there, with her. On the way she smiles, or how the wind blows through her hair and makes them looks messy and disorderly and — hot. On how he wants to be the one making a mess of her. He wonders what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like. Even Billy can’t deny he wants her. She’s just his type though something tells him she’s different from his other flings. There’s something deeper in her eyes. A secret he wants to unravel. It’s hidden there and it’s screaming out to him and only him.

As he turns back towards her, he sees her looks straight back at him. With those eyes full of secrets and that smirk on her lips.

Maybe his heart does beat a little faster then. Though he’ll never admit it.

That night he goes to bed and dreams of her and the beach and California.

California summers come with heat but they also come with thunderous storms. Mighty and unforgiving and rough.

Billy makes his way down the roads of Kings Cove, windshield wipers just about dealing with the heavy rainfall as it drums down onto his car window.

“ It’s the wrath of all women scorned and mistreated “ his mother used to say when he was younger and a storm washed over them. He always thought that was silly. Women aren’t thunderstorms, they’re April showers. They’re sunshine on your skin. They’re dewdrops on the lawn.

It’s so dull and gloomy he almost doesn’t see her. Only the peach coloured baseball cap makes her stand out against the grey. She’s slowly walking along the side of the road, unbothered by the downpour. Casual and relaxed as if she’s not getting soaked right this moment. There’s a Slurpee in her hand, blue raspberry.

He wants to drive past and no let himself be bothered with it. This, she, it’s not a mess he needs to get involved in. This can only end in a disaster. Rich boys don’t like you picking up their girlfriends. Rich boys also don’t like you lusting after their girlfriends. And rich boys who see you as a threat can get your ass fired real fucking quick.

And yet he pulls up to the curb and rolls down the window. “ Do you need a ride? “.

She smiles at him, the same way she did that night at the beach in the glow of the bonfire. Her lips are cherry red and for a second he wonders what they taste like. It’s like a primal desire, to taste her. To have her. God, he’s such a guy.

“ Need? No. I’d like one though.”

It’s the first time he hears her voice. It sounds so proper, so innocent. And yet there’s an edge to it. She’s all riddles and mysteries and things he wants to unpack and unravel. Something tells him all the red and the ribbons are only the outermost layer of who she really is. And wouldn’t he like to see more of her?!

“ Get in then,” he instructs with the nudge of his head. A gust of wind follows her as she opens the door and slides into the car. She smells of sunscreen and salt and artificial raspberry flavour. She smells like summer.

“ I’m Billy. “

“ I know. “

That catches him off guard. Sure he knows the locals and some of the kids whose parents he works for but that’s about it. He’s not nearly as prolific as he used to be in Hawkins. He’s a bit more mellow now if he can say so himself.

“ And you are?”

“ (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You tend to our beach house on Tuesdays. I saw you clean our pool the other day”.

That’s news to him. The fact that the (Y/L/N)s have a daughter. He thought it was only her parents alone in that big house in some attempt to rekindle the fire of their marriage. Last year it was only them two, he could swear.

“ Is that so? I could’ve sworn it was just your parents in that house. “

“ Was just them last year, I was in New York City last summer. This time they decided to bring me. Let me enjoy the California sun. “

“ So you enjoying it? “

“ Verdict is still out but I quite like the view yeah. “

The teasing edge in her voice does not get lost on him. If Billy Hargrove is good at one thing, it’s realising when a girl is flirting with him.

“ You watching me then? What does your little boyfriend think about that, huh?”

“ Boyfriend? “ she sounds almost offended at those words, spits it with a certain malice that takes Billy by surprise. “ You mean Dawson? “

Dawson. Of course, that’s his name. Fucking Dawson. Dawson with the swoopy hair and the polo shirt. Dawson with the trust fund. Dawson with the DUI and the state attorney dad. Dawson with the scholarship.

“ Dunno his name.”

“ He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend that’s a boy that thinks if he waves around his money I’ll spread my legs for him. As if I don’t have my own money. It’s so unsexy it makes my pussy dry as the Serengeti.”

Billy has to stop himself from pushing the brakes too hard. It’s not something he has expected her to say. Not this outright at least. Something about her brashness and her honesty is truly charming though. It’s endearing for sure.

“ Wearing his jacket though, poor guy thinks he’ll score soon enough.”

“ Eh. Maybe I’ll let him. I’m getting a bit bored. If nothing better comes along— “ she says it casually and shrugs her shoulders but Billy swears there’s an open end to that sentence. Almost like an invitation.

“ Hope pretty boy does it for you then. So — where to? “

She faces him, peach baseball cap on her head and cherry smile on her lips. “ See, the thing is that my parents aren’t home right now and I don’t have a key so … “

“ So...? “

“ Just wanna hang somewhere until they get home tonight. Maybe somewhere dry? “

Everything in him screams at him not to do it. Not to get tangled up in this. He knows, god he knows, this is a bad idea and yet he says it anyway.

“ Do you wanna chill at my place? “

She bites her lips then takes another sip from her Slurpee. “ Yeah, sounds good to me.”

God Billy, you are such a dumbass.

Billy’s apartment is small but he feels more at home here than he ever did in any house he shared with his father.

There’s an open kitchen/living room area, a bathroom and his bedroom. It’s not much but it’s his and that makes all the difference.

“ Well uh — this is my place. “

He almost expects to see some kind of disdain on her face, disappointment too maybe. She’s used to big fancy houses with white shutters and stucco ceilings. Though when he turns to look at her there’s none of it. Just curiosity. No judgment. Not even a tiny spark. Not even at all.

“ It’s nice. Do you uh — I’m soaked. Do you have a shirt or something you could give me?”

It’s now, that he lets his eyes travel down her body, and notices her shirt clinging to her body. She’s not wearing a bra and it’s painfully obvious and he swears he dies in that moment. There’s only so much a guy’s heart can take.

“ Uh. I — mmh.”

As if his body works on autopilot, Billy hurries towards his bedroom and rummages through his closet until he finds a shirt that’s even baggy on him and will surely work for her. God, seeing her in his clothes is gonna give him another little heart attack.

“ Here you g — “ she’s naked. Not completely but her shirt and jeans are gone and all she’s in is a pair of red underwear and no bra and some socks and that damn peach baseball hat.

“ Huh? you never seen a pair of tits before? “

“ No, I have. “

“ Good. “

“ Yeah. Here “

She smirks as Billy hands her the shirt, doesn’t break eye contact. Not even once and she slips if over her head and almost drowns in the fabric. It reaches down to mid-thigh and she looks glorious. Wet hair clinging to her skin, shirt covering everything but just barely. Bily is usually suave and charming and smooth. Why not now? Why not with her? What is it about this girl that she plays his games better than he does it himself.

“ You want something to eat? “

What the fuck, Billy. There’s a half-naked girl in your kitchen and you’re asking her if she wants food? What is going on?!

“ Sure, what’ve you got? “

“ Lemme see — “ Billy says and turns towards the kitchen cabinets and (Y/N) slides up and sits down on the island. Her ass must be flush on the counter and Billy has to stop himself from following that thought any further because that would result in a serious hard-on right now.

“ So I got some Nachos aaand — “ he says and squats down to open a lower cabinet, “ I think there’s guacamole somewh— “

A soft thump interrupts him and, as he realises what’s caused the sound, his heart drops straight down into his pants and his whole body goes hot. Like his entire system is going haywire.

His hand reaches out to take the flimsy red fabric into his hand. Her underwear. This has crossed flirting long ago. This is an obvious invitation and if this was any other girl or any other situation he’d already be balls deep inside her so why not now?

As Billy turns to look at her, the teasing smirk is back, her eyebrow is raised in a way that tells him she’s challenging his next move, and the secrets are back sparkling in her eyes.

“ Oops “ she says though he can tell she’s all but sorry.

“ What are you doing? You have a boyfriend. “

“ Uuuugh ”  (Y/N) moans in annoyance, “ I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a boy who doesn’t get it. I have a lot of boys in a lot of cities who all do not get it. They think because they’re rich and their parents have influence, everyone has to do as they wish. They’re not used to not getting what they want and I like to see ‘em get pissy once they realise they can’t have me. Billy those guys — they are so boring. So dull and if I have to listen to one more lecture about politics or their scholarship or how their daddy helped finance the university’s library I am going to off myself. “

“ So what role do I play in this game? You’re just a rich girl who’s bored with her suitors then, huh? What am I ? “

“ Exciting. You are different. You are you, no ifs or buts. You are your own person not a clone of your wealthy father and his even wealthier father. You are exciting and so. fucking. hot. “

Billy doesn’t notice it happening but suddenly he’s so close he can feel her breath on his skin. She’ so close. So close. All he has to do is reach out and grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

“ Fuck me.”

“ You sure? “ he murmurs, voice low and deep and soothing. “That’s all this is gonna be. Sex and fun and nothing serious. “

“ Just fun. No strings. I’ll leave at the end of the summer anyway. Until then we can — explore. “

“ Explore? “

“ Mmh. There’s so much we can do.“

“ Sounds good to me. “

Billy doesn’t give her time to reply before his lips descend on hers. She doesn’t taste like cherries or chapstick or sugar. She tastes cold and like fake raspberry slushy. Billy thinks it’s his favourite flavour now.

His hands wander up and down her sides and hers get tangled in his curls, combing through his hair and tugging slightly. She’s breathing deep, quick breaths as his lips make their way across her neck and down towards her boobs. He bunches the shirt up and pulls it over her head leaving her naked on his kitchen counter. She’s absolutely fucking breathtaking and his jeans are getting awfully tight around the front.

“ You’re so hot “ he murmurs against her skin as he buries his head in the crook of her neck. Her skin is flushed and there’s a cute red tint to her cheeks. Maybe he was wrong about it on all accounts. Maybe she’s not as innocent as he has first thought.

Her fingers slip down his body and straight into the front of his jeans, grabbing his dick and squeezing his hard on softly. Yeah, she’s definitely not as innocent as he had first thought.

It’s a clash of teeth and a tongues and a lot of saliva. This is messy and raw and rough and he feels like he’s died and gone straight to heaven. With every second, his lips wander a little further down her hot skin, placing kisses one every inch he can reach until he’s kneeling in front of her. Her eyes lock on his as she spreads her legs further letting him see just what he’s been lusting after since the first moment he’s laid eyes on her. He feels like a man starving being presented with an all you can eat buffet.

Their eyes lock as his lips kiss the spot where her abdomen meet her thighs. It’s not where she wants him but it’s enough to make her go fuzzy in the head.

“ I’ll make you forget about all those rich fuckboys, baby.”

And he does. God, he does. As soon as he licks at her clit she can’t recall a single name of any other boy she’s ever met. He devours her like he was born to do nothing but eat a girl out. There’s kisses followed by kitten licks followed by more kisses. It’s driving her crazy, the way he flicks his tongue.

(Y/N) lifts her leg to rest on his shoulder as her hand reaches down burying herself in his hair. The way she tugs, the slight pangs of pain, it’s delicious. Billy can’t get enough of it. He adds a finger, then two, slowly in and out, the faster, then even faster. He knows she’s close by the way she throws her head back, bites her lips. Her lipstick is everywhere, her hair clings to her skin now from sweat instead of rain. She’s a mess and he’s so proud of getting her to this point. He further spreads her lips, lapping up the wetness, sucking at her clit, making her come undone right there on his kitchen counter.

The moans that fall off of her lips are almost pornographic, he wonders if her parents know the kind of activities she gets up to when they’re away. He bets they don’t. She’s a princess at home. Nice and proper. A princess who spends her free time getting fucked by their poolboy.

Billy pulls away at the last minute which (Y/N) really doesn’t enjoy. She pouts at him, gives him a sound of pure dismay. “ Why did you stop? “ she questions, voice breathy, almost incoherent.

“ Cause I wanna feel you cum when I fuck you. “

He’s not usually this bold and brash. Girls like lovely words. They like soft voices and hushed whispers and for boys to say nice things during sex. Not her. She wants the dirt and the mess and the honesty.

(Y/N)’s hand finds its way back to his crotch, pulling down the zipper of his jeans and freeing his solid boner.

“ No boxers? “ there’s a glimmer of mischief playing in her eyes.

“ You complaining? “

“ Fuck no. I’d suck you off but I want you inside me — like right now. “

Billy only nods, before fumbling a condom from his wallet and pulling it down his cock. He shares her sentiment. All he wants to be right now, is inside her.

Rough hands grab her hips and turn her around before pushing her down. Her boobs as flush against the counter, ass on full display. She’s a sight for sore eyes. A masterpiece.

Billy can’t keep his hands off her ass. He has to grab a handful, squeeze it, caress it. There’s boob guys and butt guys and then there are guys like Billy who know that both those features are mutually phenomenal and to limit yourself by choosing one or the other is a move only a fool would make and he ain’t no fool.

Billy lines himself up at her slit. He can’t wait to feel her around him, wet and warm and throbbing and —

“ What are you waiting for? “ she grunts, impatience clear in her voice and she tries to wiggle her ass closer to him.

“ Patience, baby.” Billy instructs as he grabs onto her hips and pulls her even closer. Her skin is so soft, so perfect. There’s a primal desire in leaving his marks of passion there so he leans over and places little love bites on her shoulder. They’ll be easy for her to cover up with a shirt but he’ll know they are there and that’s all that matters to him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he trails his erection up and down her entrance, coating it in her arousal. He’s really not looking forward to clean this mess later on but right now it’s damn worth it by the way she’s trembling and wiggling underneath him, desperate for some stimulation.

“ Patience is not a word I know, sorry “ she’s so god damn desperate it almost makes him cum before he even gets a fuck in.

“ Yeah me neither. “

With those words he sinks into her and it feels heavenly. Engulfed by her warmth, her wetness, her passion. Quite frankly, he’s convinced, there’s no better place to be in the entire world, than buried in the pussy of a pretty girl.

Billy moves his hips slowly, deliberately, set a rhythm and a pace. He watches his cock disappear inside of her then slide back out in a delicious cadency as he dings his fingers into her hips, surely leaving bruises.

The moans tumbling from her lips are almost pornographic though he can tell they’re real and honest. There’s no reason for her to fake anything. He’s pretty sure she’d set him straight if he was doing something wrong.

“ more. “ she gasps, breath hitching as she pushes back against him, taking him even deeper. This girl is a dream if he’s ever seen one.

Billy speeds up his movements, slamming into her at a faster pace, pounding her against the counter. The air is hot and both of them are so sweaty and the room smells of sex and salty ocean air. God, he loves California summers and pretty girls.

There’s a fire lit in his lower abdomen as she whimpers and arches her back off of the counter. Billy lifts one hand off of her hips and grabs onto her front, caressing her soft tits and pulling her upright so her back is flush against his chest. The sheen of sweat covering them makes it hard to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins. Right then, they are one. Her peach colored baseball cap falls off of her head and onto the floor, where the rest of their clothes lie discarded.

His hand desperately moves across her chest, squeezing and teasing and trailing fingers around her nipples, hard from arousal.

“ Oh fuck yes. “

The confirmation that he’s doing something right, that he’s making her feel good, makes Billy’s ego grow 3 sizes. He’s such a sucker for validation.

He snaps his hips faster, harder, tries to go deeper. His hand grabs onto her thigh and lifts it up so her knee is resting on the counter letting him fuck her at a whole new angle.

At the way she cries out in ecstasy he knows he’S doing something extremely right. “God, right there. “ she almost sobs. Billy’s sure she’s biting her lip so hard it must be close to drawing blood.

Billy buries his head in her messy hair, softly traces kisses and love bites up and down her neck, tugs on her earlobe with his teeth. “ Yeah? Your pussy is a dream, baby. A fucking dream.” he grunts, voice laced with lust.

“ I’m gonna cum, Billy. “

He can tell, by the way she trembles, clenches around him. By the way her breathing hitches. And he’s right there with her.

There’s a fire pulsing through him, shockwaves rippling. It bubbles in his abdomen then boils over. With every snap of his hips the movements get more arrhythmic, messy, uncoordinated, desperate

A bunch of expletives fall from her lips but Billy can hardly make them out as his own orgasm washes over him. It feels like time slows and every sound disappeared into a white static. Nothing matters then but to chase that high and catch it and get some sweet release.

Billy feels her cum around him, squeezing him tightly in the process. The way she moans his name, as if it’s both a secret and a confession to himself and the world, that’s what does it for him.

Grabbing her hips with both hands, he holds her in place, before pounding into her with a few last uncoordinated hard thrusts. And then his vision goes black for a moment and his brain stops functioning as he cums into the condom.

For a moment there’s no sound but them trying to catch their breath as they slump down against the counter, spent from the activities. Sweaty, filthy, messy. But oh so satisfied and content.

Billy pulls out of her and for a second he misses her warm and tight around him. Like he was meant to stay there forever. Fuck, he’s such a guy.

Another heartbeat passes and (Y/N) lets out a melodic but breathless giggle. “ I could go for some Nachos and Guac right now. “

This girl is really something else.

They devour the snacks while lazing on his couch. Naked as they came to this earth, unbothered. Maybe this is what makes him go so absolutely feral about her, the fact that she’s so uncomplicated. Yeah she comes with all kinds of warning signs and bad news for him but being with her like this it’s so easy. Like they’ve been some kinds of friends for a long time.

Their bodies are always touching in one way or another. As if they can’t get enough. Billy’s sitting on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table while her legs are places on his lap, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The air is sticky and humid and even the late afternoon breeze doesn’t bring any cooling-off.

As his eyes fall onto the clock on the wall, Billy lets out a frustrated grunt. “ Fuck.”

“ What’s the matter?”

“ I’m supposed to meet my friend Johnny at the gym in about 10 minutes. Totally forgot about it. “

“ Do you have to go? “

“ I really should. “

“ You’ve had quite the workout today though. “

Billy scoffs a laugh at her words before plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a drag. He lets the smoke sit in his chest for a moment, hoping to capture even a bit of the warmth he felt when buried balls deep inside her cunt.

It doesn’t work.

“ He’s waiting for me. “

“ Aw, that’s too bad. “ she says grabs the cigarette back and, after one last drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray resting on the coffee table. “ I was just about to ask for a round two. Guess I’ll have to do it by myself then. That’s fine. “

Her fingers trail down her body, teasing her nipples before descending towards her slit. She slowly circles her clit. Billy is honesty sure she’ll be the death of him. This girl is so sweet yet so dirty and he’s not sure he’s ever met someone like her.

“ You gonna sit there and finger yourself on my couch ? “

“ You gonna sit there and watch and not join in? Come on Billy, I can give you quite the workout. No gym necessary. Do I have to beg? “

Yes. God he wants to hear her beg but that makes him feel a bit — uneasy. He doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t want this just as much as she does. Maybe they can leave the begging for another day.

“ You’re insatiable, huh? “ he asks as he settles himself on top of her, lips colliding with hers ina fiery kiss.

(Y/N) just nods, a satisfied moan slipping from her lips as his fingers nudge her hand away and replace them softly trailing up and down her slit, slipping inside every once in a while.

“ What can I say? It’s a bad habit I just can’t seem to quit.”

Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe he’s getting himself into more trouble than he needs right now. But the way she feels and sounds and taste make it worth it.

As the sun sets upon the horizon and the summer storm has long passed on to another coastal town, Billy thinks that it’s so worth it if only he can feel like this for the rest of the summer.

There’s really nothing quite like a California summer and a pretty girl with a dirty mind.

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless + Hvitserk)

Who is in control?

Synopsis: Skuld’s family leaves for the Mediterenean so she spends some more time with Ivar before he leaves as well.

Warnings: toxic relationship, casual sex, little bit of smut, talk of personality disorder, hints of sub and mommy kink, attempted good girl kink

Masterlist

I don’t own the gifs.

Today would be the day Bjorn set out on his journey, bringing everyone willing with him. Ylva sharpened her weapons peacefully, praying to the gods to keep her sons and daughter safe. The girl, of course, spends the day with Ivar once again. Loving the way the boy hangs onto her every word and challenges her right back.

So it was obvious that she slept with Ivar again. Out of all the men in Kattegat right now, her youngest had to choose Ragnar's son. Once upon a time, even Ylva found Ragnar worthy of her bed. But she was married and had too many children. All Ragnar ever wanted were sons to carry on his legacy; what a joke it would be if Skuld would be the one to carry on Ivar's?

What felt like a thousand years ago, she lest her beloved husband to Ragnar's whims. And so all her attraction to the handsome king faded as well. Now, whenever she drank, she dreamt of all the ways of paying him back.

But the great Ragnar Lothbrok was very capable of destroying himself on his own. Taking a second wife, not raising his son, nearly killing his youngest, and abandoning them all. Now he was just a shell, while she has everything: children, loyal followers and allies, riches, and a throne.

All her children made her proud, and the older they got, the prouder she became.

Egil was their first child and looked like his father with his fair hair. Very responsible, but he had her anger and temper. How proud she was when he presented Liv to her. His lovely wife gave him a daughter soon enough. And the glory of battle overshadowed the need for an heir. Liv was, of course, too content to tell him she wanted more children. So Egil sailed to possibly imaginary lands and left Liv and Kara to watch after the earldom.

Gunne was a troublemaker since birth, so keen to annoy people. He had no problem with women or battle. So when he settled down with Hjordis, Ylva believed her a witch. But he grew calmer and boasted about his pretty wife that could dance the whole night away and never tire. Out of all her good daughters, Ylva liked the cheeky Hjordis the most.

Another favorite was Þórfríðr, Stigandr's wife. The third born was everything Ylva hated. Silent, shy, and unsure. Þórfríðr charmed him because she knew what she wanted and told him to do the same. The only place he was sure and precise was the battlefield. People may underestimate him, but in battle, he would always win.

Despite being the fourth son, Brandr worried about his siblings the most. He had a pure heart and will of steel. No luck with finding a wife and giving Ylva more grandchildren, but that's not everything in life. What matters is that he survives and lives on.

Haldor may not give her any grandchildren, but that doesn't matter. His curly hair and adorable smile warmed her heart the first time she saw him. He didn't scream like the others, only whined and snuggled closer. That attitude never really left him.

Skuld was the youngest. A little bit spoiled, but she was where Ylva bet her money on. She was wicked, intelligent, and brave, so much like her mother. Sometimes, Ylva worried for Skuld's mind. The girl didn't cry either when she was born. There had only been silence. But the babe wasn't dead; it just looked around with tired eyes, silently judging everyone. The more Skuld grew, the stranger she seemed.

She didn't follow cry when she fell; friends always surrounded her that she didn't care about and had no problem with violence. At first, Ylva thought it was her brothers' fault, but when she found her eight-year-old cutting herself, she knew it wasn't the truth. Apparently, she wanted to see how blood looked like up close, and Brandr ran away before she could find out.

Over time, her behavior lessened, and all that was left behind was charm and cunning. But sometimes, Ylva saw the same dangerous glint in her eyes as that day. And yet, she thought of Skuld as her best child. Her youngest had the best chance of moving up in the world and becoming successful.

That's why she allowed this charade with the Ragnarsson. As long as Skuld was enjoying herself, the danger of her violent side was low. And a Prince was better than the usual company she kept.

"Aren't you a confident virgin?"

"I am not a virgin anymore; you know that," Ivar growled into her ear, flipping under him and changing the slow teasing pace that she set. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I had worse." Skuld teased, wrapping her legs around his waist so he can go deeper, and scratched her nails down his nacked back. "But I also had better. So speed up, Ivar."

The Ragnarsson growled like a feral beast and bit into her collar bone to ground himself. With rougher trusts, he made the headboard bang against the wall so even his brothers will hear. He wanted them to remember the sounds and prove he was a man, and Margrethe just wasn't worthy of his cock.

Not like Skuld, who took his dick like she was born to do it. When she wasn't naked around him, she joked with him and smirked like a sly fox. To think that he didn't want her anywhere near him not even two days ago. And now, after round four, he felt like he found himself the perfect match.

"How about now?" He whispered into her ear; she didn't answer, probably didn't even hear him with how loud she was moaning. With one last high pitched moan, she shuddered under him and came. He followed five trusts later and collapsed next to her.

"A shame you will leave soon. Your mother will probably give me the cold shoulder the moment you sail off."

"Why?"

Skuld chuckled and rolled over to drape over his sweaty torso. "Her darling boy is leaving on a dangerous journey. And he chooses to spend his last moments home, fucking the guest." 

"Mother had me my whole life. It's only fair you had me for a little bit. I am doing what she asked of me before you came here." Ivar chuckled and pulled her closer, careful not to touch her back. She had limits just like him, he never showed his legs, and she never turned her back to him or let him touch it. Whatever the reason, he didn't really care as long as he got laid. "I am being a good host and paying you attention."

"How nice of you." She teased back, sitting up and leaving his bed again. This time not only to drink something like before. She picked up her discarded orange dress and put it on.

"You leaving already?"

"I have places to be. They are sailing away today, remember? I can't warm your bed for the whole day. I need breaks too."

"Not necessarily. You can still walk. That means you can come a few more times."

Skuld smirked at him and brushed his hair away from his face. "I created an insatiable monster."

"You could sate the beast like a good girl." Ivar tried the words, waiting for any indication that she liked the new kink. But Skuld chuckled and trailed her hands down his chest to paw at his cock.

"Or you could take what is offered and stop complaining like a spoiled brat. Be a good boy and get dressed." She drew her hand away from his lap and left him alone, looking dazed from her words. With a chuckled, he threw the furs off and left his bed.

Skuld walked to the shore where everyone was already present. Haldor was chatting with another man who enjoyed the attention. Her brother had some fun before he was supposed to leave as well. Good for him.

"I was worried you wouldn't see me off, Sweetheart." She turned on her heel to see the Ragnarssons standing there, waiting for their mother to stop talking to Harald and say her goodbyes.

"Maybe I came to take you to Valhalla before you could slay any enemies. Who are you to know?" Hvitserk grinned at her bold joke and moved closer to her.

He leaned to her ear and whispered softly. His breath lightly teasing her skin. "A shame I didn't have as much fun as you did. You are rather loud, you know?"

"I am aware, thank you. Thank the gods your brother will leave soon. Otherwise, I will die of exhaustion."

"I could talk to him if you want," Ubbe suggested only for her to shake her head.

"Let him. I am sure you were all the same. I still see the insatiable spark in your eyes as well." With the last sentence, she turned her eyes to Hvitserk, who was not hiding the fact that he ogled her chest. The second oldest smirked at her, no hints of shame, watching her as her oldest brother whisked her away.

"Another Ragnarsson, really? Isn't one enough?"

"If I were you, I would worry more about my survival than my sister's bed friends."

Egil rolled his eyes at her attitude and led her to the rest of their family, waiting for her. "Why, you think I won't make it? Do you truly have so little faith in me? Who do you think I am?"

"I think you are an idiot and annoying. Now leave me be, Egil." She seethed back at him and strode over to the rest of their family.

Ylva smiled a sad smile at her and drew her youngest to her. With uncharacteristically soft hands, she took her face in her palms and stroked her cheeks. "Stay close to Aslaug. She won't let anything happen to you."

"How can you be so certain? She has no place in her heart for anything other than her sons and wine." Skuld rolled her eyes at her mother's advice. She still saw the plan to leave her behind as a stupid decision.

It would have been better for Skuld to stay in Yugar and rule in her mother's place, instead of the three good-daughters that had the duty now. Placing her in Aslaug's household was a strategic move, a sign of trust and peace. If the Queen were to break it, she would face the rage of the Lioness and her five ferocious cubs.

"Maybe not, but she is clever and knows how to avoid war. Our relationships have strained enough thanks to her husband. The very one she despises as well. So going against him and entrusting you into her hands..."

"Is the perfect way to give her a sense of power with her hands still tied." Ylva nodded and kissed Skuld's hair as one last goodbye before departing for her journey. She hugged all her brothers as well. No matter how annoying they would get, they were family. And family always supports each other, especially if possible death looms over them. And with their tendency to get hurt in battle, this may be the last time they see each other.

"Keep your wits sharp, Skuld. May Freya protect you." Gunne whispered into her ear and passed her something wrapped in a cloth. He winked at her as he departed and sailed away.

Skuld's face was devoid of all emotion as her family grew smaller and smaller. In Kattegat, she was a stranger and probably rumored a whore. How much easier it would be for her to leave in the black of the night and return home—seeing Kara running around covered in mud while Liv scolded her halfheartedly. Hjordis stitching on the loom while Þórfríðr mocked her shaking fingers alongside Skuld.

But Ylva made a choice and gave her an order, if Skuld were to disobey, she would be punished. The last time she did it, her mother placed guards outside her door that chased away any lovers. Not even the thralls were allowed to be by her side. And that was only for being late to a meeting with another Earl.

When the small dots on the sea were gone, Skuld retreated to her family's hut. She sat down near the gone out fire and unwrapped the gift from her brother. Inside the cloth was a simple dagger with a wooden handle. It was light and easy to manipulate.

"Keep your wits sharp, huh?" She held the blade up for closer inspection and smirked in delight. It was a truly perfect gift. Skuld settled the dagger in her lap and teased her fingertips over the edge.

Skuld tucked the weapon away in her corset and left the silent hut. First, she must gather allies. And the best way to do that is to mingle with the common folk. Finding sympathies in Aslaug's court would be impossible; right now, the only trump card she holds over the Queen is that she saw her son naked.

The people in the market watched her walk by; she sent them smiles, playing the brave, lonely Lady. Slave traders, slaves, merchants, farmers - all useless to her right now. A merchant's ship would be a good escape in case of need. But they move on too fast, and she can't strike a deal with every boat that comes here. What she needs are whisperers. Little unseen things that will tell her all they know. And won't tell a soul they tattled to her.

"Margrethe! I would say it's fate that we meet, but that would be a lie. After all, I live where you work." The blonde slave smiled at her and shifted her hands in unease. "Would you like to walk with me?"

Of course, the girl had no other choice but to do as told. And so, Skuld led her away from the crowd by the arm. Smiling the whole time innocently. "Say, Margrethe... Does Ivar still bother you?"

Margrethe shook her head but still looked uneasy. She looked up at the taller female and leaned closer as if to tell a secret. "Did he...Did he hurt you?"

Skuld chuckled and pulled the scared girl closer to whisper into her ear. "In a way. But nothing I didn't like. Did he hurt you?"

"Yes."

Skuld frowned at the revelation. "Since the feast?"

"No... I only see him during meals. He doesn't even look at me." Margrethe confessed and looked at Skuld in confusion. It was weird of a foreigner to question thralls like this. The only one who ever asked her if she was okay was Sigurd, and he fucked her right after.

"That is good. I saw how uncomfortable you were that night. And I felt sorry. I also wanted to apologize for my flirting. I was drunk and wanted to lighten the mood. But I think I just made you more uncomfortable."

"It is alright."

Skuld shook her head and let Margrethe into an empty alley away from prying eyes. "Ivar is a cruel person, as we both know. And it would be better for everyone if they didn't know what we know. Or he might become even worse."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Margrethe denied, fully well knowing what the Earl's daughter was talking about. There was only one thing connecting them, and that was that they both slept with Ivar. Or attempted to in the thralls case.

"He told me, Margrethe. There is no need to deny it. And we don't have to talk about it. I know that night must have been scary. I just want you to know not to tell anyone."

"I told." The blonde whispered, scared, her eyes terrified. Skuld wondered what the cripple Prince did to her after he failed to get hard. A simple failed fuck would scare her so much. "I told Sigurd."

Skuld bit her lip at the dumb girl's actions. Scared or not, seeking refuge by the brother that spat venom at Ivar was stupid. One argument, and he might use it against Ivar, leaving Margrethe as the only possible source, especially when Skuld told the brothers that she and Ivar had no such problems.

"Don't worry. If Sigurd thinks you a liar, he won't spread the news. All I must do is prove them wrong. I did most of the job already. Just a few more things, and he will think Ivar more than capable."

"And how will you do that?" The wide eyes blonde stepped closer to Skuld. Trying to hear what plan the young female hatched.

Skuld leaned into her ear and whispered slowly, watching for any possible interruptions or witnesses. "Go to a healer and ask for Moon tea. Mention my name as often as possible. Ask for some herbs against pains as well. Say he left marks, and I ordered you to go there. Say anything that might sell the story, bruises, bite marks, even blood."

"Tell some slaves as well - the ones that spread the most rumors. I will walk with a slight limp and wince when I sit down. Moan and scream louder than before so everyone will hear. If they ask you what happened that night, you tell them naught. Deny any accusation and seem shifty. As if you lied about the whole thing."

Skuld pulled away after she was done whispering and watched the thrall try to remember the plan. "That will work. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We, strong women, should work together. That's the only way we might survive men like Ivar. Always one step ahead. If there is anything you know that could help us..."

"The Queen..." Margrethe trailed off, not sure if she should tell or not.

"Yes..."

She swallowed and looked around as if the woman would jump out at any moment. "She isn't fond of you. This morning she ordered Ivar to stop seeing you, but he protested and said he wouldn't. She thinks you a spy or that you have ulterior motives. Hvitserk just thinks you horny."

"That's more or less it. I am also bored and want Aslaug to regret her choice of taking me in. I could be at home annoying my good-sisters and niece instead of diddling her darling son. But thank you for the information anyway. I will remember your words well. Now go before someone finds us."

Margrethe ran off as Skuld watched her go, a deep sense of satisfaction sets in. Playing kind and concerned was as easy as breathing by now. Faking what people want to see or hear is easier than others think. Soon enough, they turn into little birds, fluttering around and gathering whispers and rumors—easy pray and yet useful. The more they believe you protect them and care for them, the more loyal they become.

During the night, Ivar sat next to her, propped on one arm. He was leaning over her with a frown on his face and kept pestering her. "Then why did you come to my bed if you don't want to sleep with me?!"

"I was lonely." Skuld shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with a teasing smirk. She was not hiding the fact that she is lying right into his eyes. "And maybe I wanted to be toughed kindly instead of being mauled by a beast."

Ivar looked away from her and laid back down. Refusing to even look at her as a spoiled child would. "Oooh. Don't be like that, Ivar. I want affection, give me some, and we can play." The young Prince continued to look away, pretending that he didn't hear her.

Skuld pulled a face at his stubbornness and rolled onto her side to catch his gaze. "Don't make me beg..."

"If you keep being difficult, I won't get in the mood at all..."

Skuld rolled her eyes, and forcefully turned his head to her. She held his cheeks in a tight grip, digging her thumb into his jaw in a warning. "I don't like being ignored, boy. So either you pay attention, or I will leave you to play all by your lonesome. How embarrassing would that be, huh?"

Ivar watched her with nearly black eyes, charmed by her rough treatment, and hissed words in a fake sweet tone. "What do you want?"

Skuld smirked and loosened her grip a little, caressing the tender spots with her thumb instead. "Hold me for a bit, and you can do what you want later on."

"Anything I want?" Ivar rasped out, looking like an addict with his drug right in front of him but still out of reach. She smirked in victory and patted his cheek mockingly.

"Within reason and boundaries. You do anything I don't like, and you will be punished. I am not a slave; remember that." The Ragnarsson nodded and pulled her against his chest, stroking her auburn hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all and just needed a firm hand.

After the cuddles, Skuld kept her promise and let him fuck her how he wanted. The boy saw some positions that he wanted to try, so they had a few rounds before they were both spent. As Skuld laid on her back with Ivar sleeping with his head on her chest, she watched the shadows on the ceiling.

Her dagger was on the floor, buried under her dress. For whatever reason other than brotherly worry, Gunne thought she needed a weapon. What he knew, he didn't tell. But there was something big coming if he was worried for her safety enough to arm her.

Ivar whined on her chest and buried his head deeper between her breasts. One of them hidden under his calloused hand, sleepily squeezing the boob. She sighed and scratched her nails over his scalp to lull him back to sleep, choosing to rest as well.

[annerbhp]

Lucky

- part one - part two - part three - part four -

Part Five

Ginny hasn’t heard a word from Harry since the day he asked her to the party. They’ve bumped into each other occasionally in the halls, but usually going opposite directions and in a rush to get to class.

She would wonder if he’s changed his mind, but he always smiles at her before disappearing off with her brother or Hermione—depending which shift he’s on at the time. So he doesn’t seem to be rethinking it, as far as she can tell.

She’s pushed forward with it all, sending an owl to her mum asking for a set of dress robes. Which Molly had definitely come through on, sending a gorgeous set of dark blue, slightly sparkly robes that are clearly meant to make up for the new broom Ginny wouldn’t let her parents buy for her.

They are easily the most extravagant robes she’s ever owned, and she would wonder if Molly somehow figured out just who her date is somehow, but shoves the thought aside.

“There,” Antonia says, leaning back from her face with a final flick of her wand. “I suppose you’ll do.”

Ginny turns to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair has been pulled half back, the rest hanging long in soft curls around her shoulders. Surely even Fleur would approve. Eyeliner and a golden dust of eye shadow make her eyes seem bigger than normal, a soft blush on her cheeks matching the light pink of her lips.

“Okay?” Antonia says.

“Amazing,” Ginny says. “I hardly look like me.”

Antonia rolls her eyes. “You just mean not wearing a ponytail and covered in sweat and dirt from practice.”

Ginny laughs. “Well, let’s hope my date can actually recognize me, or I might have to go alone.”

“I’m sure Harry will have no problem recognizing you.”

“Ah, but will I survive the scrutiny of being The Chosen One’s date?”

Antonia laughs. “I have faith in your ability to persevere. Now, should we go before our dates give up on us?”

She nods, nerves erupting in her stomach. “I guess so.”

They leave the seventh-year girl’s dorms, climbing up to the common room. There’s quite a few people milling about, some dressed and ready for the party like Hestia and Flora, others just watching the spectacle unfold. Zabini is impeccably dressed with Pansy on his arm, both looking slightly bored, like they are well above all of this, despite how aware they must be of the jealousy of other students without invitations. Pansy will no doubt lord it over anyone she can for the next month at least.

Antonia doesn’t even pause, the two of them going straight for the exit after giving Hestia and Flora waves. Lucas and Harry should be waiting for them there.

Feeling silly for doing it, Ginny still pauses at the door, taking a deep breath before stepping out.

The first person she sees is Lucas, wearing a rather daring shade of aubergine with what looks like copper trim. Her gaze doesn’t linger long enough to find out, because a few steps farther away stands Harry.

He’s is actually here. She tells herself this swell of relief is mostly to have to avoid the humiliation of being stood up so publicly. Yet another awkward aspect of going with Harry is knowing that everyone is watching. She’s been the recipient of more than one snide remark the last week as word finally leaked out about Ginny and Harry going together.

He’s wearing a smart set of dark green robes, his tie slightly askew as if he’s been tugging at it. The smile that spread across her face at first seeing him fades as he continues to stare at her, without speaking, his eyes wide.

“Ladies,” Lucas says, giving them a slightly absurd courtly bow. “You are looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.”

Antonia laughs. “Not as beautiful as you.”

“Yes, well, that would be impossible.”

Harry still hasn’t said anything, eyes sliding over to Lucas and Antonia as if he’s only just noticed them.

Lifting the hem of her robes, Ginny crosses over to Harry. “Hey,” she says, hoping her voice won’t betray her nerves.

“Hey,” he breathes out, smiling at her. “You’re, I mean, that’s a nice—” His eyes dart down to her dress only to immediately lift back to her face as if caught doing something wrong. He tugs at his collar, setting it even more askew.

Lucas looks between them, leaning into Ginny. “I think he’s trying to tell you how beautiful you look.”

Antonia gives him a repressive glance, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm and steering him down the hall.

“What?” Lucas says. “We’d be standing here all night, rate he was going.”

Harry looks comically annoyed and Ginny can’t help but laugh, probably just her nerves looking for any way out, and she finds herself folding her arms in front of her and leaning over in her mirth. “Merlin,” she says, feeling tears prick her eyes. “I’ll ruin my makeup.”

Straightening up, she looks at Harry, who is looking rather sheepish.

“You do look really…” he tries again.

“Nice?” she asks, grinning up at him.

He blows out a breath, seeming happy to laugh at himself. “Yeah.” He flaps a hand. “Floaty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Should we?” She gestures after Antonia and Lucas.

He gives her a faux bow, holding his arm out with exaggerated pretentiousness. She’s still laughing as she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and follows after Antonia and Lucas.

“So,” Ginny says. “Time to place bets on the most salacious things to happen this evening.”

Harry slides her a look. “You mean like will the vampire forget himself and eat someone at the dinner table?”

She nods. “Or just how ridiculous on a scale of Lockhart-to-Trelawny Slughorn’s outfit will be?”

It turns out the rooms themselves are ostentatious enough to win the award on its own. The whole place has been draped with rich fabrics and hanging fairy lights with house elves wandering through with platters of food. It’s overwhelming and almost a little hard to look at.

“Subtle,” Ginny says, Harry snorting in response.

They no more than step through the door when Slughorn falls upon Harry, fawning over him and his excellent choice of companionship. And then he’s seizing him, pulling him off to introduce him to all of the guests, which seems to include a few members of the Weird Sisters and, yes, an actual vampire.

Harry gives Ginny a panicked look back over his shoulder as Slughorn drags him off, his hand groping for hers, pulling her along. He seems very intent on not losing her, so Ginny does her best to stay by his side through the series of introductions, most of which seem to be specifically aimed at being as unbearable for Harry as possible. She stands with him, her hand still firmly in his until it seems like Harry’s patience has been completely depleted.

She looks over the vampire’s head, ignoring the way he’s been staring at her neck, and waves her hand animatedly.

“Oh, Harry,” she says in a breathless voice, hanging on his arm like she’s completely helpless, “I just have to go see Flora!” She smiles up at the wizards. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Oh, no, no! Of course not!” they say, smiling at her like she’s a vacant child. “Take your escort, my dear.”

“Ah, young love,” Slughorn belts loudly as they make their escape.

“You are a life saver,” Harry mutters, his ears burning red.

“Well, I did promise to save you from Slughorn.”

They bump into Hermione as they make their escape, grabbing a few tasty looking treats on their way. 

Hermione nearly yelps as they bump into her, her hair and robes disheveled. “Oh, it’s you!” she says with real relief. Then she looks between them. “You look well together.”

Harry darts Ginny a look before turning back to Hermione. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Hermione says, pulling her sleeve back into place. “Oh, just Cormac. He’s a bit…persistent.”

“Need me to take care of him for you?” Ginny offers.

Both Harry and Hermione look at her, seeming a bit alarmed.

“No need for that,” Hermione says. “I just need to—oh, no. Here he comes. Have a nice time!” And then she’s gone.

“I don’t know what she was thinking,” Ginny says. Having been on a handful of handsy dates herself, she knows how awful they can be.

“Mostly about getting back at Ron,” Harry says with a sigh.

Ginny shakes her head. “Lovely.”

They start moving through the crowd again, Ginny angling them away from Slughorn as best she can. She only realizes her hand is still firmly held in Harry’s when she’s able to tug him in a new direction when she sees them heading straight for Melinda Bobbin.

“Trust me,” Ginny says in an undertone when he looks at her in question. “That’s the last thing we need tonight.”

They end up tucked away in a corner, almost obscured by thick folds of fabric, happily dissecting the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match from the weekend before as they finish off their stash of snacks. Ginny’s team will have to face Ravenclaw right after the holidays.

“Their Keeper is the weak spot, I think,” Harry observes.

Ginny nods. It’ll really be a matter of slowing the game down enough to get their hands on the Quaffle. Her Beaters are going to have step up.

“We’re well matched at Seeker at least,” Ginny says.

“Dunno,” Harry says, sounding unconvinced.

She peers up at him. “You think Cho is that strong?” she asks, only partly wondering if this is some lingering loyalty to the girl.

Harry gives her a strange look, shaking his head. “No. The opposite. After all, I’ve learned not to underestimate Reiko.”

Ginny smiles. “Has she tracked you down and forced you into a Quidditch talk since the last match?”

Harry laughs, not seeming all that put out. “Once or twice.”

Ginny isn’t all that surprised. Once Harry proved that he wasn’t just messing with her, Reiko would no doubt throw off all hesitation at bugging Harry endlessly. “You brought that on yourself, Mr. Altruistic,” she says, pushing at his arm.

He catches his fingers in an attempt to defend himself. “I suppose I did.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand, and she finds she doesn’t mind.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he blurts.

“You were right. This is fun.” More fun than she would have expected.

He smiles, his thumb brushing along the back of her hand and sending an avalanche of goosebumps up her arm. “Good,” he says, voice quiet. “Probably would have been pretty unbearable without you.”

“Oh,” she says, trying to ignore the warmth in her chest. “I have no doubt of your ability to defend yourself.”

“Maybe,” he says, head tilted down towards her.

Their eyes catch and hold, the two of them just looking at each other, and she is suddenly very aware of how close they’re standing, the warmth of his body next to hers.

A peal of laughter nearby has them both jumping apart.

Harry clears his throat, tugging at his poor abused collar. “Uh, why don’t I get you a drink?”

She nods. “Yeah. That’d be nice,” she says, thinking she wouldn’t mind a minute to pull herself together. “But first…” She reaches up, tugging his tie straight, running a hand down to make his lapel lie flat.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he says, and Ginny feels a little foolish, pulling her hands back. What had possessed her to touch him like that?

She watches him walk off, or escape more likely. But then he sends a smile back her direction as he makes his way to the drinks table, almost running into a miffed-looking Pansy as he does.

Ginny looks away, biting back a laugh. Maybe coming with Harry wasn’t the worst idea after all.

A few moments later, there’s a bit of a to do near the entrance, Ginny craning her neck in time to see Filch dragging Draco in by the scruff. “Caught him trying to sneak into the party,” he says, loud enough for most people to hear.

Draco looks so mortified and pissed off that Ginny almost feels sorry for him, everyone clearly gawking and reveling in his humiliation. Slughorn, for all he clearly finds the Malfoy’s ‘uncollectible’, seems open to showing mercy, but then Snape is there, leading Draco away.

The room is loud with whispers as everyone processes what just happened. Ginny looks around for Harry, but he’s not by the drink table anymore. She frowns, scanning the room, and there he is, heading straight for the exit.

Leaving Ginny on her own.

[mememanufactorum]

Ace Combat Zero quotes

* Feel free to share as you please, no credit needed. Change pronouns or anything else as desired.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I know him.”

“Did you know there are three kinds of aces? Those who seek strength, those who live for pride, and those who can read the tide of battle.”

“It was a cold and snowy day…”

“It’s starting to come down.”

“You’d better have our pay ready and waiting.”

“Be ready to pay up. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“[name], I got a feeling you and I are gonna get along just fine. Buddy.”

“It all started on that snowy day.”

“My first impression was… He had potential.”

“I forgot about my job and read everything I had on hand.”

“We were all on an equal footing, fighting under the same conditions. No affiliations or ranks to hinder us.”

“The only rule of engagement was to survive.”

“We WILL survive, [name].”

“I figured you’d say that. This is gonna cost you extra.”

“Unlike you mercenaries, I fight for a real cause.”

“The ones who survive are those who fight for their convictions.”

“Dead men’s words hold no meaning.”

“Those mercenaries are crazy!”

“He hesitated. A vulnerability that can be exploited.”

“I was certain I would win.”

“We protect the meek and give our lives for honor. But that does not mean that we are generous… Since generosity will cost us our lives.”

“Well, then, let’s have some fun.”

“I figured it was just temporary chaos and it’d be over by the time I got there.”

“Every now and then, guys like that appear on a battlefield. Someone special, y’know?”

“War is something fought on the desk of politicians. As long as they win in the end, that’s all that matters.”

“But for us, it’s a matter of survival. In order to survive, you need to be able to analyze the situation in an instant.”

“Time to hunt some wild dogs.”

“Looks like we were just a couple of decoys.”

“Yo, Buddy, you still alive?”

“Back then, I was bursting with pride.”

“Staying where it was nice and warm wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“Whatever it may be, the fact remains I was forced to walk a different path in life than the one I had envisioned.”

“They only fight for their own power and fame.”

“[name], let’s do this right. We got the pride it takes to win!”

“They’ve got a reason to fight. This battle’s over.”

“Let’s take care of them.”

“It takes time to admit you lost.”

“[name], you hear those people screaming for freedom? That’s where we come in!”

“It felt like he could see right through me. He was always one step ahead of me.”

“I didn’t feel like I was fighting with a human being.”

“I wanted to end that battle as quickly as possible.”

“It signals peace, but to me, they are the sounds of death.”

“Everyone is a hero and a villain. And no one knows who is the victim and who is the aggressor.”

“And what is ‘peace’?”

“Looks like we live to see another day, [name].”

“Mercenaries like us are disposable to the guys in charge.”

“But in the end, we survived.”

“When are you planning to buy those flowers?”

“Wait around too long and another guy’s gonna steal her away from you, you know.”

“This is no time to talk about my personal life!”

“Yo Buddy, you’ve got everyone fired up and believing in miracles.”

“Right on! Now that’s what I call teamwork!”

“[name], you hear that warm welcome? It’s the sweet sound of victory.”

“Not bad for a group of misfits, huh?”

“Dammit, there’s too many of them! We can’t handle them all!”

“Time to dive into the fireworks!”

“Looks like you’ve still got the touch.”

“It’s happening just as you thought.”

“It’s about time we got out of this dead-end job.”

“Not just yet.”

“They’re attacking without mercy. Do they plan on burning everything?”

“He can’t be human!”

“He’s like a demon…”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I fight for peace. That’s what I’m up here for.”

“While you’re up here ‘fighting for peace,’ tons of blood is being shed on the ground. Some ‘peace,’ kid.”

“And I’m here to put an end to that.”

“You think you can stop the bloodshed by shedding more blood?”

“Flying with all those ideas floating around in your head is gonna get you killed.”

“Anyway, I’d really gone out with a bang this time.”

“It’s a scary thought, but it also makes you feel alive.”

“But it gets pretty lonely up there all by myself.”

“Guess they’ve come to pick on the dead again.”

“This is the worst kind of support we could hope for.”

“Those mercenaries smell of money and death. They’re nothing but vultures… Scavenging for profit through the blood of others.”

“Sorry about the accommodations. It goes with the business. I’m not active during the day.”

“Something unexpected happened.”

“I figured the least I could do was take them down in return.”

“Of course, that was where my luck ran out.”

“Though I guess it’s hard for bad guys like us to die.”

“The real heroes always manage to die first.”

“We live the rest of our lives in hell.”

“But, then again, being alive is proof that we were good.”

“This will be your final lesson.”

“I’ll show him he’s only digging his own grave.”

“What’s important on the battlefield is to let go of hate, to survive, and to adhere to the rules you’ve set for yourself.”

“There was no more need for an old soldier like me.”

“Hatred cannot be the only motivation for war. It only brings about more pointless deaths.”

“I will never overcome that grief.”

“I’ll just look on from here.”

“He was unstoppable.”

“It didn’t matter where the battlefield was, the man had complete trust in his own powers.”

“He was born for battle, a Demon Lord who struck down all opposition.”

“He was born for combat. It was no wonder they called him a Demon Lord.”

“That said, it was hell trying to keep up with him.”

“He was cool-headed and proud. A combat professional.”

“Maybe the man was blessed by the goddess of war.”

“Before long, everyone had taken notice of him.”

“People wanted to burn his image in their memories.”

“Hell, they weren’t the only ones.”

“Learn to accept it, kid. This is war.”

“There’s no mercy in war. It’s a collision of powers.”

“Even war has a set of rules to follow!”

“Damn them all…”

“Nobody knew why they were fighting anymore.”

“All I felt at that point was sadness for the world.”

“You gonna get remarried to your girl?”

“We’re both getting married for the first time!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up.”

“Nah… I’m just sad.”

“There’s no impossible jobs for us mercenaries!”

“Your fairy godmother’s here, Cinderella.”

“How can you say that after what just happened?”

“Today is your lucky day, [name]. Like your birthday.”

“And you’re here to pull me off in a magical carriage, huh? To hell I suppose…”

“Buddy… I’ve found a reason to fight.”

“This is where we go our separate ways.”

“And I like to play polo. You know, the game with the horses?”

“…Maybe we should get going now.”

“I should be able to do that too.”

“This war should be over already.”

“Why would they do this after all that’s happened?”

“I’m going to put an end to this war.”

“We’ll decide when this war ends… And now is not the time.”

“Today is a day of hope.”

“We have to go into battle.”

“Are they being stupid or is it just part of a plan?”

“The rest is up to you.”

“Our lives might’ve been different.”

“I will never forget his overwhelming power.”

“I returned alive from that battlefield.”

“There’s no meaning there now that he’s gone.”

“He soon passed away, leaving me behind.”

“We were only able to spend a short time together in peace and quiet.”

“But those who hearts are in the sky will always return to the sky.”

“And he died there, never to return to me.”

“It’s an awful place, but the fastest shortcut.”

“Don’t even think about heading back.”

“What are you fighting for?”

“I will eliminate the false hero.”

“You will make a worthy opponent.”

“What are you doing?! The war’s ended long ago!”

“It’s time for a perfect world without restrictions or wars.”

“He’s going to destroy everything!”

“I’ll follow [name] to the end!”

“I thought I was watching magic.”

“I’d never felt fear toward an opponent.”

“The same went for my ideals. I wasn’t afraid to take on even an entire country.”

“But when I was fighting him, something felt different.”

“There’s always a war somewhere and I’m sure he’s on some battlefield somewhere fighting even now.”

“He’ll always have a place to live.”

“Let the victor be justice.”

“I was hoping to meet you under different circumstances.”

“The table is surrounded by politicians who have never placed a foot on the battlefield.”

“It’s a necessary discussion to build a peaceful world.”

“It’s a disgusting squabble on who gets the largest share of the pie and that’s why it needs to end.”

“It is for that duty that we raised the King.”

“Let’s begin.”

“This place is no longer a battlefield.”

“Clashing greed is the cause of all conflict.”

“Style and skill does not matter in battle.”

“We will carry out the new creation of destruction through the power of righteousness.”

“Territories, peoples, authorities… All will be liberated.”

“Neither nations nor nationalities have meaning.”

“We will erase these unnecessary borders.”

“The world will change.”

“He’s not destroying anything unnecessarily.”

“This darkness and that little window are my entire world now.”

“I’m actually rather fond of it.”

“The darkness envelops me in a borderless world, a world with no boundaries.”

“No matter what the desired outcome is, the world can still change as long as people expand their knowledge and desire change.”

“If I’m with you, I know I can do it.”

“I’ll follow your lead.”

“We’re gonna stop it, no matter what.”

“I never want to see that barren land again.”

“We’re gonna be rich!”

“We’re gonna be heroes!”

“I’m gonna propose to her when I get back. I even bought flowers!”

“So, have you found a reason to fight yet?”

“Here comes the snow…”

“Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they’re invincible.”

“I bet you do too, Buddy.”

“Can you see any borders from here? What has borders given us?”

“We’re going to start over from scratch.”

“It’s pretty ironic, Buddy. A couple of dogs like us fighting the last battle.”

“There’s no mercy in war. People live and people die. That’s all there is to it.”

“You fired up? Come shoot me down.”

“It’s time.”

“Too bad, Buddy.”

“This twisted game needs to be reset.”

“You’re the only one who can stop him.”

“I pray for your success.”

“You and I are opposite sides of the same coin.”

“When we face each other, we can finally see our true selves.”

“There may be a resemblance, but we never face the same direction.”

“Fire away, coward!”

“Come on!”

“Come on, let’s go back home.”

“We wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting for you.”

“Maybe this was one path to achieve peace.”

“I should have died that day. But I didn’t.”

“I felt an unbearable sadness when I witnessed that landscape.”

“It may be true that the world has no need of borders. But would getting rid of them really change anything?”

“The world won’t change for the better unless we trust people.”

“Trust is vital in a peaceful world.”

“But that’ll never happen.”

“I want to see for myself what borders really mean and what their volition really is…”

“I may not find what I’m looking for but I still wanna try.”

“Anyway, that’s what I’ve come to believe and I think that’s enough.”

“Yo Buddy. Still alive?”

“And thanks friend. See you again.”

“I was never able to find out what kind of a person he really was.”

“But whenever they talked about him, they always had a slight smile on their faces.”

“That, perhaps, might be my answer.”

[knittingdreams]

Fireheart - Chapter 24

Sorry for the wait, I’m drowning in real life over here xD

Enjoy this new chapter! :D Huge plot twist in this one! Waaahhh, I loved writing this chapter so much and I hope you love it too! *-*

Masterlist // Ao3 // @tillyrubes10

CHAPTER 24

Surprises

By the time Rowan got to the Fossa, that night’s tournament was mostly over. He could have gone home, could have been lying on his couch drinking a cold beer and watching a game of whatever sport might have been on TV. But instead, Rowan decided to head to the fights. To see it with his own eyes, to make sure he didn’t make a mistake… Not like he could have mistaken her.

“Didn’t think you were rostered tonight,” Lorcan said as Rowan stepped through the main door, not wanting to use the back alley.

“I’m not,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Then why are you here?” 

“That is none of your concern, kid,” he almost spat the words, looking down at Lorcan and then walking away without a second look. 

He didn’t want to be rude, but he had an appearance to keep, and the kid had a lot of lessons to learn if he wanted to survive the Fossa. Lorcan was pushing his luck and stepping out of line, which was dangerous in their line of work. The place had no space for weakness, no room for doubt, and certainly no patience for curious people that got their noses where they shouldn’t. That’s how you could get yourself killed, or worse.

The gymnasium was loud, and it smelled of stale beer and sweat. The dampness of the room clung to his skin, and Rowan folded the cuffs of his black shirt up, his jacket already away in his motorbike’s storage compartment. Reaching the edge of the room, he found a spot where he could watch the whole comings and goings of the place. It was not one of the spots where security was normally posted, but one he had found after endless nights working there. 

Connal was stationed to one side of the made-up stage, minding the crowd, and Rowan could see Fenrys by the side, watching the fight closely. He didn’t recognize either of the fighters, but that was no surprise, he never paid much attention to them unless they were regulars. The fight finished up a few minutes later, and Fenrys escorted the winner to the backroom. The whole place roared with claps and cheers, and he saw a few bills slipping from hand to hand. 

Betting at the fights was allowed in any kind or form. Bigger bets were made with Maeve herself, as she was the one that organized the events, but she always said a little under-the-table betting helped to spice things up. Whoever had been working long enough for her knew the truth behind that statement. All of the bets were run by her. All of them. Nothing in the pits went unnoticed by Maeve, which was half the reason Rowan had gone to the Fossa that night.

There was no way Maeve didn’t know.

But even if she knew, what did it all mean?

As Fenrys walked the next fighter over to the stage, Rowan walked by his side, mostly unnoticed between the crowd, and gave him one quick nod. Immediately after, he darted to the back, but instead of heading into the fighter’s backroom, he went into the office next to it and waited.

“What are you doing here, mate?” Fenrys greeted him as he walked into the office and closed the door.

“Did you get someone to take your place?” 

“Yeah, I got Con, I have five minutes or so, what’s up?”

“Maybe nothing, maybe a lot,” Rowan replied thoughtfully.

“Cut it to the point mate,” Fenrys said, his expression going a little serious despite the grin.

“Is… Fireheart here tonight?” Rowan dropped his voice to a whisper, even if he knew no one could hear them there.

“Yeah, why?” Fenrys smirked.

“I was at the gala with Maeve tonight, as his escort,” Rowan started. “And I saw her there,” Rowan dropped his voice even more, just to be cautious. “I mean, it had to be her, she was even wearing the same mask.”

“Oh, wow, okay,” Fenrys scratched the back of his neck, and then his smile widened as he looked at Rowan again. “Did she look gorgeous in a ball gown?” He said in a dreamy and mocking tone.

“Fenrys! That’s not the fucking point!”

“Weird, she didn’t tell me she saw you there, I thought we were friends now… Thought she’d share something like that with me…” He put a hand over his heart in mock offense, his expression turning into one of fake utter-disbelief. 

“For fucks sake Fenrys, can you be serious for a second? She didn’t even see me.”

“Did you hide?” Fenrys’ eyebrow lifted playfully, and he punched Rowan on the shoulder.

“Fenrys, please. This is serious. She was there as Dorian Havilliard Jr.’s date. So, yeah, I might have made an effort to stay out of her sight.”

At the news, Fenry’s smile dropped and he looked down, scratching the back of his neck again. 

“And here I thought the kid she was with today was her boyfriend. I should have known better, he seems gay,” he said, speaking mostly to himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“She brought a companion today, a cute kid with gentle eyes hiding behind a black lace mask. I think he’s the one that was here with her the first night.”

“Can we go back to the point? Who cares if she’s here with someone?” But as he said the words, Rowan realized he was already planning on popping his head on the back to look at this kid. “So, I’m thinking, she either goes to school with Havilliard, or she’s from one of the wealthy families in town. Either way, she’s wealthy. She needs to be if she goes to school with him, so my question is… What is she doing here? She can’t be here for the prize. What if she’s one of Maeve’s spies? She was in our home, what if she was looking for something?”

“Maybe she enjoys the fighting too much, maybe she’s rebelling against her parents and just thinks having a double life is fun.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?”

“What?!” Fenrys lifts his arms in surrender, his confused expression getting on Rowan’s nerves. “She didn’t go to our home, I took her there because she was dying, do I need to remind you that?”

“I told you she was trouble, and this proves it,” Rowan replied, not even listening to Fenrys anymore. Maybe it had all been staged, all to set them up, to test their loyalties.

“This proves, what? That she goes to school? We already knew that! A lot of people around here do.”

A lot of people… like the Salvaterre kid. Could any of it be related? All of it?

“Doesn’t Lorcan go to school with Dorian?” Rowan asked, and Fenrys looked taken aback by the change of subject.

“Why would I know which school he goes to?”

“Because you hired him.”

“True that, let me think… I think it was something with… Adarlan…”

“Half the schools here are called something ‘Adarlan’, Fenrys!”

“You have no fucking patience, mate! I think it was something fancy… like…”

“Like Adarlan Elite High?” Rowan asked, squaring his shoulders while trying to find the connection.

“Yes! That one! How did you know?”

“Because that’s the school Havilliard goes to.”

“And you know that because…” 

“Because unlike you, I take this job seriously, and…” Rowan dropped his voice again, “and I keep a close eye on Maeve, and the Havilliards are important to her business.”

Fenrys looked at his watch, and then back up at Rowan, a worried expression on his face.

“I need to go back,” he said as the crowd’s cheers grew louder outside. “Please, don’t do anything stupid, this probably means nothing. I mean, she’s that rich kid’s girlfriend, so what? It doesn’t change a thing. Now, that girl we’re talking about is about to jump on stage, so I better go... Oh, by the way, do you need a lift home?”

“Nah, I’ve got my bike.”

With a simple nod, Fenrys walked out of the office and Rowan moved to stand by the door, watching him walk into the back room and come back out followed by the blond fighter. He told himself he should go, but he was rooted to the spot, watching Fireheart walk towards the stage, her chin held high as the crowd around her went wild. 

Everybody was on their feet, clapping, yelling, chanting.

“Fireheart, Fireheart, Fireheart.”

Rowan couldn’t say he was surprised, it was not common to see a girl on the Fossa, and Celaena was certainly putting up a show. She had been reckless the first night, ending her fights too fast, but since having an audience, her style had changed. At that moment, the way she walked, seeming so sure of herself, he could picture every man on her wake dropping to their feet, serving themselves up on silver platters. She had them all eating from her palm.

He turned to the side, and there he was. Tall, lean, and with a black lace mask over his face. The guy was smiling up at Celaena, his eyes following her every move with something that looked almost like devotion. He couldn’t say he remembered him from the first round of fights, even if he barely recalled Fireheart being there with someone, but he surely hadn’t had a mask on. 

Rowan turned back to the stage in time to see Celaena jumping up, her rival being one of the few regulars he recognized. His name was Zhek, and he had been one of the finalists the previous year. The girl moved along the stage with grace, her every movement feeling like a piece of a well-practiced dance. She ducked, twirled, rolled on the floor, and jumped to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. But she also punched, kicked, and struck Zhek over and over again, her every attack hitting its target with a precision that had Rowan mesmerized. 

She was no ballerina, she was a ruthless fighter. 

He had seen many fights in his life, but he had never seen anything like her. As Celaena ducked again, then threw a high kick and knocked her opponent, he understood the meaning of her fighting name.

Fireheart.

The girl’s heart burned bright with flames. She was not only fire, but ash, and smoke, and blazing light. He had never seen anybody fight with so much passion and determination.

Fireheart, who are you? And what do you want?

***

“Can I borrow your car for a little while?” Rowan asked on Monday morning.

“What’s wrong with your motorbike?” 

“Nothing, it’s just that… I’d rather use the car.”

Fenrys dropped his spoon on his cereal bowl loudly and looked up at Rowan, a cress between his brows.

“Mate, what are you up to? Don’t tell me you’re about to do something stupid?”

“I’m not telling you then,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you need the car or not?”

“No… I don’t.”

“Sweet,” Rowan grabbed the keys from the kitchen counter and strolled purposely towards the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Fenrys yelled after him.

Rowan drove slowly, trying not to draw attention. He had the tinted windows up, and he rolled into the parking lot casually, following the line of cars as if he was there every morning. He was early, so there weren’t a whole lot of people around. He parked around the back, as far away from the main doors as possible, and he waited while he sipped on a cup of coffee.

About five minutes later, the car he was waiting for drove in, and he leaned forward, his coffee forgotten for a moment. The car parked right in front of the main door, and the driver’s door opened up. A tall kid with dark raven hair that he recognized as Havillard Jr. stepped out, and then he circled the car, opening up the passenger door. He reached a hand down, and Rowan watched flabbergasted as a delicate hand clasped it and a long pale leg stretched out, heels too high to be school-appropriate hitting the floor. 

Celaena got out of the car like a celebrity, her long legs being followed by a pleated grey skirt that revealed a whole lot of skin, and then a white snug shirt and a curtain of perfect golden curls. She shook her head once, fanning her hair, and then the rich kid closed the door, leaning unnecessarily close, and laced an arm around Celaena’s waist as they walked together towards the school.

Rowan took the last sip of his coffee, scrunched the paper cup in his fist, and threw it over to the passenger seat. His eyes were still on the retreating couple, which is why he jumped up as a loud knock sounded on his window.

The girl standing by the car with her arms crossed over her chest had to be an illusion. 

Rowan cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes, looking over at the girl again, who, annoyed at the waiting, knocked on the window again and motioned for him to roll it down. He lowered it slowly as the darkest set of eyes he had ever seen stared back at him, making his heart race at the thousand suppressed memories.

“What are you doing here?” the girl asked, sounding more surprised than angry. 

Her hair had grown so long since the last time he had seen her, and instead of being a puffy mane, it was now tamed into long but uneven dreads, some of them with golden rings around them. But the rest of her... It was the same face he had seen so many times, even if mostly in pictures.

“Nehemia,” he let her name out in a single breath, almost like a curse, or like a plea. Like a forgotten and buried memory he never thought he’d had to deal with again.

“I knew it was you the second I saw you… It’s been a long time, Rowan.” There was sadness in her tone, her voice almost breaking as she said his name.

“Do you go to school here?” Rowan found himself asking, the thousand coincidences starting to prickle his skin and make his gut churn. Or maybe those were the memories, relighting the fire in his soul. 

“I do… And you don’t. As far as I remember, you finished school four years ago. What are you doing here? I thought you might have been looking for me, but you seem utterly surprised to find me here.”

“I was… No… I didn’t know you came here… I was… It’s work-related,” he managed to let out.

“Still in the same line of work?” Nehemia asked, her lips turning into an upside smile.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he replied, shrugging with one shoulder.

“I thought so…” Nehemia looked to both sides, and then rushed around the car.

She jumped into the passenger seat, knocking the discarded cup onto the floor of the car, and shut the door with a loud bang behind her.

“We need to talk, and it’s probably best if we don’t do it here,” she said, her words rushed in through harsh whispers.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Rowan,” Nehemia’s eyes were pleading, unshed tears lining up on her eyes. “Please, I need your help.”

Rowan swallowed hard, and before he could regret his decision, he stepped onto the gas and drove out of Adarlan Elite High’s parking lot.

[whendidyou-leaveheaven]

Like I like My Whiskey...

[a self indulgent stucky emotions short piece]

“I like my men like I like my whiskey,” Bucky says, a smile curving into the corner of his cheek like the curl of a wood whorl off of a bevel, that smile just a chip off the block, “aged and mellow.” His eyes are playful but private, quiet but lively.

“I can give ya aged but I don’t know about mellow, pal,” Steve says, closer to giggling than he ever is in any other circumstance. Bucky brings it out in him, that giddiness that smarts of his youth.

They’re both leaning on the polished but worn wood edge of the last bar in Brooklyn that survived the century and the nostalgia is rich. Steve has to resist running his hand over the old wood in pure affection. Old things evoke a kind of appreciation he can’t explain.

Bucky looks just like he did the day they made him ship out with that mahogany hair tucked behind his ears. He’s got a smile on his face that just won’t leave. Steve hasn’t seen him smile in weeks, but now they’re alone and tucked back into this small crevice of the city where time almost stands still and Steve...his heart feels like the last seventy years maybe didn’t happen. Maybe Bucky just pulled him up out of the alley and he’s never fought a war in his life. Everyone else is background noise. Everyone else is so young. They’re misplaced in time but the music is almost right. He’s been searching for the right jazz bar, anywhere that still has that feeling. He probably won’t ever find it again. Some things just don’t persevere. In fact most things don’t. Haven’t. But thank god he’s got one thing that does. He’s got Bucky now. Bucky is wearing some grey t-shirt and black jeans instead of a navy green military uniform but that face still fits the picture.

There’s a vintage piano piece playing and Bucky tips his face up listening. “Hey… I know this one,” he says. “C’mon cap’n, let’s dance.” He’s telling Steve, he ain’t asking.

Steve can’t remember what they were even talking about. Or why Bucky mentioned how he liked his men. His men being Steve? Steve must be his only man. After all, who the hell else could he be talking about?

They have to drink like fish, a whole school of them, to get drunk these days. Steve used to be the biggest lightweight on the entire planet. Bucky used to drink until he woke up smelling soaked to the bone in whiskey but now they both have to drink hard liquor like water to feel it at all. But they prepared for this earlier, (what do they call it these days ? Pre-gaming?) and they’re both a little drunk for once, god bless. Only Thor really got that, the superhuman resilience to alcohol bit, until Bucky came back. Bucky came back…

Steve is too involved in Bucky to worry about what anyone around them might think. It’s not a simple thing, to overcome the fear of prejudice. But no one in their right mind would try and beat him up now. It seemed hard at first and then after everything else he dealt with coming out of that ice, it seemed like nothing. It just didn’t matter. He had problems that were so much bigger than a look someone might cast his way. And Bucky was so much bigger than any pitiful little fear. Bucky, brave and smiling and waiting for him to get off his damn stool and dance with him… they’d never danced. He was a little drunk. Bucky was a little more drunk, perhaps. Bucky had asked all their girls to dance. Steve had always stood on the sidelines. Once upon a time he thought he wished those girls would have asked him. And then when they did, he realized it wasn’t really them he wanted to be asking. It only took a hundred years for him to wise up. What was a century anyway when this man was smiling at him like that, biting his lip? Still doing that thing. Still licking his bottom lip and holding it between his teeth with that look like he was thinking real hard about something. And his eyes were on Steve.

“Well come on!” Bucky urges. He’s not standing there for nothing.

Steve shakes his head but stops looking at his best friend and gets his butt up.

The room is small. It’s a little hole in the wall of a place but they still have live music sometimes and it’s enough, enough room to get by and to stand the test of time.

Steve takes a look around finally, out of curiosity, and they’re mostly alone. And if two men are dancing here in this tiny corner of New York no one really cares now. But him.

Bucky’s arm slides around Steve’s waist as soon as he gets close and it could just be a gag, just for fun. Even though Steve is feeling some way he hasn’t felt in years. In forever. It has been a long time since Bucky’s thrown an arm around him. Like this, or over his shoulder, and not when they were struggling to get across the battlefield, the only thing keeping them up being each other’s arms. This is something different, and also familiar. Steve is nearly taller now than Bucky but-

the music is slow, almost too slow to dance to. Bucky has to move in closer, he pulls Steve nearer until they are hip to hip. He seems more loose than usual, more carefree. But the more loose and carefree he becomes the more warm Steve feels, the more he can't stop. Can’t stop staring.

“I gotta tell ‘em. These lilly young studs just don’t do it for me.”

Steve blinks and tries to sober himself. He’s been staring at Bucky’s face and not hearing what he's saying. “Yeah,” he says, breathing in deep and feeling Bucky’s chest touch his with the inhale. He can almost smell the cold water brine and the iron if he reaches for it; the way Buck used to smell at the end of a long day. After he came home from work.

His hand is on Bucky’s shoulder. Friendly and harmless but -

“You seem pretty mellow to me.”

“You’re just drunk.”

“I can’t get drunk.”

“If I can get drunk you can get drunk.”

“Yeah right, you’ve always been a lightweight. I can drink ten times as much as you.”

Steve gives him a look of pending protest but he ends up just shaking his head and saying nothing because Bucky is right. Bucky's had to carry him home practically any time they had ever gone out drinking. And Bucky looks so happy, for once, finally, he is smiling so much it’s all Steve can think about. “It’s nice to see you smile, Buck,” Steve says. It feels like a mistake instantly, because the smile leaves Bucky's face, like he’d just remembered where he was. Here in the twentieth century on the seedy side of Brooklyn and not in the smoky familiar proletariat bar of 1941.

“I mean, it makes me feel like everything's like it was,” Steve says. He wants to bring the smile back. But he doesn’t have to wait too long. Bucky’s smile returns naturally on its own as he watches Steve, but he’s grown quiet. And they are pressed close now. He feels Bucky’s arm tighten around his waist. He doesn’t even try not to press his hips to Steve’s. He holds them closer, body to body.

Steve moves his hand down Bucky’s right arm until their hands meet and he presses his hand into Bucky’s, feeling every finger between his own. Now it’s like they’re dancing. Slow dancing for real. The way you’re supposed to do it.

“Nothing’s like it was,” Bucky whispers. His mouth is close to Steve’s jaw . He leans forward so that his head is side by side with Steve's.

“Buck…”

“It’s alright.”

After a too-long silence with the sound of an old trombone and sax squealing into the dusky space and Bucky’s warmth gathering in his skin Steve moves back just so he can see Bucky’s face again. He makes his voice light and teasing. “You haven’t aged a day.” This has the desired effect. Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles again. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” he jabs.

Steve lets himself laugh. A real laugh showing his teeth and letting himself feel it.

They dance like that for a while and Steve could stay that way forever if he wasn’t afraid Bucky would get bored of it. But he doesn’t sound bored when he finally speaks again. He sounds tired and a little fragile and like all the longing in the world has been hiding under his tongue this whole time and Steve somehow missed that. And he sounds like he trusts Steve, with it, with him. “Steve...”

Steve squeezes him tighter, probably too tight. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

[silveraccent]

Designated Drunk || Grace & Cece

TIMING: Evening, Sept 5th PARTIES: @silveraccent & @thebickedwitchoftherest​ SUMMARY:  For once, Cece is the responsible one who’s listening to Grace’s ramblings. Grace lets a few secrets fly, and Cece thinks she may know what’s going on.  Trigger Warnings: Death mention. 

Grace didn’t drink. She didn’t drink because when she drank, it was harder for her to not let people in. Not metaphorically, but literally. She became an open book, and she hated it when she became that way. Hated the way she couldn’t shut up, the way her jokes became a little less morbid, a little more telling. Though, after the week that she had had, it was inevitable. After the situation with Winston at the morgue, Grace wasn’t sure what to think. It was real, she knew that much, but she wasn’t sure how to make sense of it. It had been awhile since she, Cece, and Regan had gone out for drinks, and with Regan’s sudden absence, Cece had found it important for the two of them to bond without the flying airplanes. Grace couldn’t blame her, as their last attempt had been a bit lost. She sat now in front of Cece, a cider half-gone as she wrapped her hand around it, the condensation rubbing onto the palm of her hand. “It was a good idea,” Grace said as she hiccuped, “that we didn’t go to the same spot.” God she was such a lightweight. 

Having a new face around the morgue had taken some getting used to, but luckily Cece was flexible and adapted to change well. Overall, Cece had decided that she liked the newcomer. Even if her personality was more aligned to Regan’s than her own, Grace was a fresh face and Cece had managed to get a few laughs out of her at work. More than she had gotten from Regan, after over 6 months. Cece was two drinks in, watching was fascination as Grace drank hers. She couldn’t get a good read on the kid, but something about the girl screamed lightweight. “I’ve made my way around the team. I know all the good bars.” Cece took a long drink and grinned at the girl, “Listen, I know you’re a lot nicer than me. But tell me that leaving Ricker’s behind wasn’t powerful?? Drinking game, take a drink for every time he told us about Cody’s after school activities today? Talk about blackout drunk.” 

“The good bars,” Grace nodded slowly, thumbing the bottom half of her glass and smeared the condensation around, “I like good bars. I don’t usually go to bars.” She looked at Cece. This wasn’t something she normally did, go out drinking, but she could release some of the stressors that had been making it hard to sleep lately, right? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the reanimated corpse lunging at her and Winston and her stomach would churn all night long. Maybe allowing herself to have a few drinks would change that, make it easier to sleep. “I don’t know if I’d be able to survive that.” Grace scrunched her nose and lifted her drink to her lips, taking a hefty sip. The apple bit at the tip of her tongue. “I think… we’d die.” She looked up at Cece with a stoney gaze. “Or do something stupid, because of how drunk we’d be.” She laughed at her words even though they weren’t funny. “Maybe,” Grace continued, “we’d be able to make money.” Her eyes lit up. She knew she wasn’t making sense, it was why she didn’t drink, “do you think we could bet on it? I need new shoes.” 

“Really? I couldn’t tell, kid.” Cece laughed sarcastically, the obviousness of Grace’s lack of bar experience being pretty obvious. “Grace, I pride myself on being able to drink people under the table at five feet tall and even I couldn’t survive a drinking game like that.” Cece slapped Grace on the shoulder playfully and tried to imagine in a single day how many shots that would take. Cece wasn’t sure this bar had enough alcohol in stock. A day like that would end with Grace and Cece in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. This Grace, not many drinks in but already tipsy, was absolutely adorable. “Make money, huh?” Cece leaned in, egging the girl on. “Tell me more about this plan of yours. Where is the money coming from? What shoes are you going to buy? Most importantly, should we buy matching crocs?”

“You are really short.” Grace observed, looking Cece over. Despite the fact that they were both settled in their chairs, she could tell that she had at least 3 inches on Cece. “I wouldn’t survive either, but maybe it’d be a fun way to forget about the day.” She looked up at the blonde when her hand came in contact with her shoulder. It seemed like Cece was having a good time, but Grace’s impression was a bit muddled due to the alcohol. Truthfully, the reason she didn’t drink much was because she didn’t like how numb everything felt, despite wanting it to be quiet. “Money would be good, I could afford a new pair of Dr Martens.” She looked at Cece with a grin before taking another sip of her drink. She hadn’t been aware of the AC of the cider before ordering it, but it didn’t seem to matter now. “How many times in a day he would talk about his grandkids,” Grace continued, gaze settled on the napkin dispenser between them, “maybe 50. Whoever loses, pays up.” She furrowed her brows, “I don’t know if Regan would want to though.” 

“Thanks for the reminder” Cece scowled at her coworker, but she didn’t hold it very long before smirking. Cece had accepted her fate long ago. She had watched everyone around her get their growth spurts. Cece thought she would just be a late bloomer, but turned out she was actually cursed. The lack of height only fueled her. She gained power from being underestimated by the people around her. “I like your dedication to these new shoes. More than that, I love this obnoxious Ricker’s pool idea you’ve got going. Y’know what Grace? I like you. I think we’re going to get along.” Cece held her glass up and offered it in a cheers to tap against Grace’s, “What Regan doesn’t know won’t kill her. That’s my philosophy.”

“It’s okay, I’m short too.” Grace said it matter-of-factly. She leaned into her drink as she picked it up and pressed the rim of the glass to her lips. It was cool to the touch, her face already feeling warm from the alcohol. She blinked at Cece, “I have to be dedicated to something, right?” She smiled innocently at her before taking another sip, only to be left with less than a quarter of a glass. She set the glass back down onto the table. “I like you too!” She smiled broadly at Cece, “I was worried, because when Regan told me about the coffee, I thought maybe you didn’t care about your job, but you do.” She nodded again, “I like this job.” She looked at Cece and picked up her glass again, clinking it against Cece’s. “She won’t know, just like she won’t find out about what happened at the morgue.” She froze. Shit. 

That damn coffee story. For whatever reason, Cece had somehow come out of that story the bad guy for bringing coffee into a morgue. Sure, Regan May have been right in the minuscule and potential risks involved if the coffee were to spill. But she had to understand that Cece never let coffee go to waste. Not to mention, the real victim here still had not received any true justice, her almost full cup of coffee. Wasted. No one there to sip on it’s rich and caffeinated goodness. A true tragedy. Even if Regan ever admitted the two were friends outside of work, Cece would never forget the injustice given to her that day. “I do care about my job, actually. But I think there’s also something to be said for caring about the job a little too much.” Regan was passionate about her work. It was something Cece could admire most of the time. Except for when she was living in her office and throwing away her coffee. “A good work life balance goes a long way. Don’t forget that when you’re learning shit from Regan. She can teach you a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.” Won’t find out what happened at the morgue. That piqued Cece’s curiosity. She wondered if Grace was talking about the incident with the body? But he would Grace be so dead set on keeping something that wasn’t her fault a secret? “Tell me more about what happened at the morgue again. Scouts honor that it stays between the two of us.”

When it came to drinking, Grace was bad at it. As bad as she was with most things physically demanding, like soccer, or mowing the lawn. She couldn’t hold her alcohol and it showed in the way she bowed over her drink, a small grin tucked at her lips. She knew that she was going to either get herself in trouble, or Winston in trouble by even talking about it, but she could at least just say she saw the body, not what actually happened with the body, right? She looked up at Cece again in an effort to gauge whether or not she could actually be trusted. Sincerity rolled off of her as well as curiosity, for what Grace could tell. “It was…. Alive.” She blinked. That wasn’t the right word. “Not alive, but it moved.” She nodded. That description was better. “It moved… at me, and then it crumpled to the floor.” Not totally a lie. It was too bad it hadn’t happened prior to Nell’s truth serum wearing off. “Like… a pile of laundry.” She scrunched her nose and let her hands fall into her lap. “It just…. Fell apart, to pieces.” She picked up her drink and finished the cider off, the memory of that day leaving a foul taste in her mouth. 

A dead body that came back to life? This was definitely the most interesting part of Cece’s day by far. “The dead body moved?” Cece questioned Grace. It was important to remember that Grace was definitely drunk. Side note, Grace was an adorable drunk and should definitely not be driving home. That being said, Cece needed more to go on before getting too excited. In her experience, drunk people were usually more honest than sober people. But drunk people also tended to exaggerate more than sober people too. “When you say moved, you mean like normal spasms that corpses have? Or full on limb function?” Knowing what she knew about the status of the body at the end of the exchange, Cece was willing to bed on the latter. Unfortunately, Cece needed to stay sober tonight to make sure that good ol’ Gracy didn’t wander off into the woods and get herself eaten. “So what’s your take on this whole situation? Are you drunk enough to consider that this was supernatural or something?”

“It wasn’t gassy if that’s what you’re asking,” Grace mumbled against her knuckles as she held her hand to her mouth. She was in deep shit now, revealing what had happened. As long as she didn’t slip and mention the fact that Winston was with her, she should be fine. It’d be possible to just say that the corpse crumpled to the ground rather than admitting it came after them, right? She looked anywhere other than Cece’s eyes, she wouldn’t be able to hold in the truth if she made eye contact, she just knew it. “It got up… off the table, it moved, then it fell.” It felt weird, saying it out loud now. The words felt foreign on her tongue, like they were a lie, but she knew what she saw, she knew what had happened. Winston had been there, too. “Drunk enough to consider this a supernatural phenomenon?” She looked up at Cece finally, but looked at her nose instead. “I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t normal.” She kept her voice low, “honestly a lot of weird shit has been happening since I moved here, I don’t know what to believe, and it’s not like I can ignore it, I’m not exactly--” Grace clamped her mouth shut and let out a forced laugh, “I don’t know what to believe.” God, why couldn’t she just stay sober. 

That shit was magic if Cece had ever heard of it. And considering that Cece was a witch, she had definitely heard of it. But who the fuck had any interest in reanimating some stupid dead person inside of a morgue? Whatever they had done, it didn’t seem to work well if the thing just crashed soon after. Cece had a lot of questions, and none of them could be answered by a drunk girl who clearly had no idea what the hell was going on. Poor thing didn’t seem in tune with the supernatural world at all. Which could only mean that she was in for a rude awakening around these parts. “Yeah well, welcome to White Crest. This town is weird as fuck.” Cece stated matter of factly. Cece had spent the last ten years travelling the country with a coven with questionable morals and Cece still thought this town had a few screws loose. “I’ll tell you now kid. If you’re going to stick around, you may want to start lowering your expectations of what normal is.” Cece chuckled. It almost reminded her of how Cece had felt back at fifteen, discovering her own magic for the first time. “Was anyone else with you? What if I told you that we could stop something like that from happening again?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it weird,” Grace mumbled against her knuckles. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened, but it had to be something-- whether or not she wanted to believe it, there was definitely something supernatural going on. She had seen it when Winston blew the decedent to pieces, as well as when the door had fallen apart. There was no other explanation, the town wasn’t just weird. She had been called weird all her life, what she was capable of, it wasn’t normal, and she knew that-- but this? This was out of the ballpark in the world of weird, or normal. She could be confused, but still understand that there was something bigger going on, right? She rubbed the side of her face, the sweetness of the cider beginning to give her a headache. Maybe it was the bridal party in the corner of the room, she couldn’t tell. Elation filled her as the woman opened a gift and she went to take a sip of her empty drink. She looked back towards the bar when Cece asked if anybody else had been there, and without thinking, she spoke, “Yeah, Winston.” Grace’s bit down on her cheek hard. “But they left right before it happened,” she quickly covered up as she turned back to Cece. “Do you think we can get another drink?” She picked up her empty glass and wiggled it in the air with a frown. 

“You have a better word for it then?” Cece raised an eyebrow. In the know or not, even someone familiar with the supernatural couldn’t deny that something about the town was off. If a hellmouth was real, the one in this town would have a portal that dropped you directly on Satan’s lap. A widespread, long lasting town curse hadn’t been completely ruled out of Cece’s theories either. Not that Cece was actively trying to find a root of the cause. That certainly wasn’t her business, and not worth the trouble or danger. “Because I’m sticking with weird as fuck until I get a better adjective.” So Winston had been there? Or rather… Winston had not been there? Drunk Grace was a bit loose on the specifics, changing that they had left right before the body had moved. Cece knew Winston well enough on the surface as a coworker. The two had worked together before and both kept the whole werewolf versus lobster debacle to themselves. Clearly, they weren’t ignorant of the supernatural. “You bet we can. I’ll even pay for it.” Cece laughed, raising her hand to wave the bartender over. “Listen I’m not telling you this just because I think you’re one drink away from the deep end and you’ll forget the conversation. But I think I know what happened and I think I know a way to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She didn’t have a better word for it. Maybe just accepting it as it was what Grace needed to do, because if she didn’t, where would she end up? She shook her head, trying to figure out the word that was at the tip of her tongue, but refused to tumble over. She looked at Cece, “I guess that works, weird as shit.” She hiccuped at Cece’s declaration that she’d buy the next drink. Grace felt guilty, only for a moment, before giving her a firm nod. “I’ll buy the one after that, then!” Grace smiled at her, the mood from the corner of the room sinking its claws into her. The last thing she wanted to do was exhibit their mannerisms, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly cheered up, despite her longing to fall into the pit of despair that surrounded her current circumstances. “Wait, what?” Grace looked from her empty glass back to Cece, eyebrows pulled together in concentration-- concentration that she didn’t exactly have. “What do you mean you know what might have caused a dead body from being dead, to getting up and attacking us--” Grace chewed on the inside of her cheek. She needed to never drink again. 

Cece reminded herself to cut Grace off after this drink. Cece always supported a good, safe blackout drunk adventure. But this girl already said that she rarely drank. It was never a smart idea to put Cece in charge of being the responsible one, but even she could see the writing on the wall here. One more drink and Cece needed to get Grace home and hydrated. She’d still feel like shit tomorrow, but at least she wouldn’t end up in the hospital. Or worse, a two day hangover. “So it’s back to us then?” Cece raised her eyebrows in suspicion. Funny how the story kept changing. “And it attacked you this time? It’s like a whole new little fable now.” That didn’t exactly answer the girl’s question. Though given Grace’s current emotional state, Cece wasn’t convinced her coworker would quite comprehend an honest explanation anyways, “You think I’m completely blind to the shit that happens in this town? I didn’t cause the dead body to attack you, but I’m familiar with the spell. It’s magic.” Cece waved her hands around and added in some spirit fingers for dramatic effect. 

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Grace lied as she scrubbed her chin with her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Winston into this, to out them for… what had they called themselves? She couldn’t remember, it had all been a blur. This was like those days in which she had been under the influence of the truth serum, her inability to shut up was a risk, and she knew it. “I can’t remember.” Grace let out a defeated sigh, one that she hoped was convincing enough to sway Cece into thinking that she genuinely had her details mixed up. She had even screwed up with Regan, not having mentioned Winston at first, when they were clearly on the security cameras. The m word made Grace’s skin crawl. “That’s what…” That’s what who said? She couldn’t say Winston, her story was already messed up. Defeated, she shrugged, “sure, if that’s what it was.” She had bargained with the idea that it was something else, anything else, but it was so clearly magic. Her Grandma had told her stories about sorcerers and covens, but nothing that she ever took for truth. Though, with her involvement in tarot readings, of course those things would shroud her stories. 

“Clearly, that much has been obvious.” Grace couldn’t decide on what the truth was. Admittedly, Cece wasn’t in the mood to pressure her too much on the issue. There was a reason she was remaining slightly apprehensive. Either she was protecting Winston or hadn’t quite accepted what she had seen yet. Either way, drunk Grace clearly wasn’t going to be any more help. Cece had already gotten the answer she needed anyways. Someone was playing around with necromancy. Bringing corpses back to life for the hell of it. And by the looks of it, they were either just doing it to fuck around or they sucked at actually bringing someone back to life. If that was the case, the problem may have taken care of itself. Bringing someone back from the dead was a dangerous game that needed to be done perfectly. “You’re new to all this. No worries there. I’ve been there too. Stick with me, I’ll help enlighten you to the world of fuckery. It’s a wild ass ride, fair warning. There’s not really any going back once you start.” 

Truth be told, Grace had no idea what she was getting herself into when she moved to White Crest. She hadn’t expected to have a reanimated corpse running at her, hands outstretched. She hadn’t expected to see somebody fling the body against a wall without so much as moving a finger. It was all… chaotic, and the expression on Grace’s features showed that. “I’m already living here, so aren’t I kind of in it?” She was taking this all a lot easier than she had expected of herself, mostly because she wasn’t sure what was real and what was dramaticized. She picked up her glass to find it empty. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips as she looked back to Cece. “There’s a lot you can’t explain, but I’m guessing you can?” She looked towards the bar, glad to see it was absent of paper airplanes flying their way. “Did you ever figure out what happened with the planes?” Grace asked absently as she tried to slip off of her chair. 

Grace had a point. Not everyone got the luxury of living in White Crest and ignoring the weirdness. Cece didn’t quite grasp the people that lived here their whole lives without recognizing. For the most part, the town seemed normal enough. But once someone got their first glimpse into the weirdness, it felt like a rabbit hole that couldn’t be climbed out of. Unless that person was Regan, who had managed to be permanently stuck head first in the rabbit hole and still refused to accept the inevitable. Honestly, her stubbornness was downright impressive. “I wouldn’t go that far, Grace. I’m not an expert by any means. But I’ve been around the block a few times.” Cece took a practical approach to things. If she could see it, that shit was happening. If she couldn’t see it, that shit might still be happening. The most important thing was keeping an open mind and always keeping calm. She had usually found that she could get herself out of situations even new to her by keeping her cool. “I can at least point you in the right direction.” As far as the paper airplanes went, Cece hadn’t thought about it much. “Not a clue. Never happened to me at that bar before. My only guess is some kind of teleportation or summoning spell.” Cece shrugged, as if a teleportation spell was the most normal thing in the world, “Can’t say why they were targeting us specifically.” Grace started moving, sliding off of her chair and Cece groaned, rolling her eyes and hopping off of the barstool with her, “Where you think you’re going?”

“Around the block a few times, got it.” Grace nodded, making a grab for her empty glass. She picked it up and pressed it to her cheek, allowing for the glass to cool her skin. She didn’t know what was happening, and it seemed as though the more questions she asked, the more answers she got, or… didn’t necessarily get. It was all very confusing, and Grace had had enough thinking about it-- it was a mistake bringing it up to Cece at all. She wondered silently if Cece would tell Regan. The thought made her stomach turn over. The last thing that she needed was for Regan to know that she lied. “A summoning spell?” Grace asked as she leaned against the table, her elbow digging into the wood as she tried to keep from stumbling over. “There are a lot of spells here, huh?” Why wasn’t she more upset by this? Why wasn’t she questioning Cece, asking her how she knew that this was the cause? She wanted to ask, but hadn’t she seen Winston with her own eyes, blowing the door open, blowing the decedent to pieces? She shook her glass in her hand. “I want another drink, remember?” She motioned for the blonde to follow her to the bar. “I need another drink to get through that conversation, because I can tell you’re telling the truth, or you believe you are, and that makes my head hurt.” She wandered towards the bar without realizing that she may have just outed herself for not being so normal, either. 

“Way more than I know.” Cece agreed with Grace. The number of spells in the world were probably innumerable. There were countless variations to similar spells, and some spells so specific to a certain situation that it would be almost impossible to ever copy them again. But that was a whole mind blow moment that Cece wasn’t sure Grace’s brain could handle much more of at the moment. At least Grace just believed Cece without some show of proof. Cece had no interest in using a spell at a bar. “Oh right of course. You want another drink.” Cece sighed but followed her, “Alternate idea. And trust me I sense the irony coming from me, but we could not drink anymore and get you home. Continue this conversation in a day or two when you don’t feel like you’re dying.” A hangover was unavoidable, but it could always get worse. “You can tell I’m not lying?” Cece questioned out loud. Did that mean Grace was good at telling if people were lying or that she had some sort of sixth sense. Could she even trust anything that the girl was saying. When Grace got to the bar, Cece waved for the bartender’s attention while Grace’s back was turned. Cut her off Cece mouthed to the bartender, swiping her fingers across her neck in show. 

“I don’t feel like I’m dying,” Grace countered back as she looked over her shoulder at Cece. “And weren’t you trying to get Re-- Dr Kavanagh and I to drink with you the last time?” Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t drink often, though.” She paused just before the bar before looking to the bartender who seemed focused on something behind her. Grace cut her gaze back to Cece just in time to see her hand drop to her side. “Oh, you think I'm lush now.” Grace’s voice came out in a whine. “I swear I’m not normally like this, I mean, you saw me--” she folded her arms across her chest and sighed. A shrill laugh from the corner of the bar made Grace wince as a wave of elation washed over her. Grace tried to push it off, but instead, clasped her hands together and gave Cece a broad smile. “One more drink for the road, then I’ll drink no more, besides, I’ve only had two!” She turned back towards the bartender and looked at them with pleading eyes, “One cider. One drink for Cece. She said she’s paying, but I want to pay, because that’s what juniors do.” She grabbed the bartop as she turned and winked at Cece. God, the crowd of bridesmaids was making it hard to be consistent. Normally, Grace had an easier time keeping it from swallowing her whole, but with drinking, it became harder. Though, the headaches were absent, so at least she had alcohol to thank for that. 

“I’ll never give up on my attempts to get Regan to drink with me. Someday, Grace. Someday.” Cece stared off into the void, wondering how likely it was that her dreams would ever come true. Not very, most likely. But that wouldn’t stop Cece from trying. “I’m just looking out for future Grace, no judgement here. I’ve had more drunken nights than I could even begin to count.” Cece shrugged, the bartender glancing between the two and Cece shrugging and waving them off. Grace was an adult, if she wanted to keep drinking, Cece wasn’t going to hold her back. At least she’d be there to mostly keep her holding onto reality. “Fine. You pay, I’ll just sit here and look pretty.” Cece leaned against the countertop and watched Grace. Had it really only been two drinks? Damn, this girl was a lightweight. “Regan’s going to kill me if I break her new employee.”

“Future Grace will have to deal with her decisions,” Grace said matter-of-factly. It was like she was a whole new person, albeit it was the alcohol mixing in with whatever else was going on in the bar. She paid the bartender in a 20 dollar bill after telling him to keep the change. She twisted to look at Cece as they waited for their order, “I won’t be broken, I can’t be broken.” She shook her head. She hadn’t experienced any harsh physical traumas, but her mind sure had, and she wasn’t sure if there was much more to break, albeit, this town sure was trying. “Besides, I can take care of myself.” She nodded as if to reinforce this before she grabbed her cider that was placed down in front of her. “I hope you like cider, because I forgot what you ordered before.” She frowned. “It’s good though, not sweet.” She raised it to her lips and let out a satisfied lip smack before she touched Cece’s elbow to motion her back to the table. “So,” Grace said after she set her glass down, “you are nice, I am nice, but does Regan hate me, do you think?” 

“You know, I love the attitude honestly.” Cece had to admit that she didn’t have a good argument against Grace putting her problems off on future Grace. How could Cece argue against it when she had made the same exact declarations hundreds of times before this? That would just be disrespectful, hypocritical even. Cece was nothing if not a hypocrite. That being said, she was totally warning Regan that she had tried to put a stop to this. She just knew that she was going to end up falling under the blame for tonight. Sure, pick on the girl always asking for people to grab drinks with her. “I know you can. I never doubted that for a second.” Right now? Cece wasn’t convinced Grace could take care of a stuffed animal, let alone herself. A balloon could probably knock her over. “I’ll drink anything sent my way.” And usually that would have been true if Cece hadn’t realized how big of a lightweight Grace was. Clearly, Cece needed to help the girl build some tolerance so they could have some truly fun nights out. “No, Regan doesn’t hate you. She treats everyone that works for her like that.” It was a funny detour in their regular conversation. Apparently, Grace had some doubts about whether or not her boss approved of her work. “She loves hugs though. Maybe you should try being more affectionate. Make the bond grow a little closer.” Would drunk Grace even remember this conversation? Probably not. But on the off chance that she did and that Grace actually believed her, this would totally pay off eventually. 

Grace was glad that the conversation had shifted from what happened at the morgue to… well, whatever this was. It made things easier, made it so Grace didn’t trip over her words, only to spill all of the secrets she’s tucked underneath her tongue. She knows what she looks like, she can see it in Cece’s eyes-- concern drifted off of her, but Grace ignores it, tries to focus on having fun for once, because what had happened, it had hit her hard, and she still wasn’t sure she was okay enough to deal with it sober. While she believed what she saw, it was still a hard pill to swallow. “Hugs?” Grace asked as she looked at Cece over her glass. She lifted it to her lips, the tanginess of the drink coated her tongue. She didn’t think Cece was being genuine, but she didn’t question it. “That doesn’t seem right.” Grace tilted her head to the side, “but I’m glad to know that she doesn’t hate me, I was worried.” She frowned, “she just feels serious all the time, so maybe…” Grace shrugged, “Maybe I’m looking too far into it.” It’d be possible, she almost always was. It didn’t help that she could typically tell how people felt about her right off the bat. 

“Bonkers right?” Cece shrugged, playing nonchalant. “She doesn’t seem like the hugging type, I know. Looks can be deceiving.” Cece would give just about anything for Grace to randomly give Regan a hug at work. Cece could picture the look on Regan’s face, the mere thought bringing a smile to her face. “I’ve been trying to get Regan to loosen up since I got there, so if you have any luck you must be some sort of miracle worker.” Regan kept things way too serious, her rule against befriending coworkers a real damper on Cece’s fun. Work was always more bearable when she could have a laugh with her work friends. Hard to do when Regan was so adamantly against the idea of work friends. “My advice? Just keep your head low for a while with Regan. Once she gets used to the new addition to the group she’ll start throwing compliments your way. After that you know you’re on her good side.” Cece downed the rest of her cider in one gulp and slid the empty glass away, “I think it’s almost quitting time. You gonna finish that so we can get you home?” “I don’t think I’ll have any luck,” Grace admitted. Maybe it was the sudden somber tone from the bridal party, the woman crying due to the realization that her life was over. She wondered why she thought that. She looked at Cece, “I’m just Grace.” She smiled at her, maybe a little too sweetly, before picking up her glass and taking another drink. “I don’t mind not getting compliments…” Grace thought for a moment, “but I don’t like not being liked, but at the same time…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her glass, then at Cece’s, which was entirely gone. She frowned slightly. “I don’t know if I can do that, but,” Grace tried to mimic the way that Cece downed her glass, but cider pooled at the corners of her lips. Grace was forced to pull the glass away and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Oh, that’s a buzz.” Grace nodded to herself as she tipped the glass again, finally emptying the contents. “I did it.” She looked at Cece triumphantly, her worries about Regan, the reanimated corpse, Winston, everything lost with the sweetness of her drink.

[kyliexc]

BUENAAAASSSSSSSSSS ! soy yo , mini from da 6ix , again . coming at you with my original kid . she’s changed just a bit , but still pretty much a god damn  M E S S .  and bad bunny’s vete came on shuffle soOoOooOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOO LEGGO !

chicago’s very own Kylie Castillo has been spotted on madison avenue driving a BMW X5 , welcome ! your resemblance to Becky G is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty second birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re impulsive , but being loyal might help you . i think being a Aries explains that .  3 things that would paint  a  better picture of you would be a bottle of patron, late night partying and 20grams of weed . 

hit the mfng like button for plots bc I WILL mssge u or else

BASICS ! 

Full Name: kylie valentina castillo

Nickname(s): ky, kyky, k, kybby

Age: 22

Height: 5 ft

Date of Birth: April 15th 1997

Zodiac sign: aries

Hogwarts house: slythindor (slytherin + gryffindor)

Ethnicity: mexican

Nationality: american

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: bisexual

Religion: agnostic-catholic

Tattoos: a peach on her ass, #2 tramp stamp and canon becky g tattoos

Language(s) Spoken: english + spanish

Accent: american with a hint of spanish

BACK STORY ! 

kylie castillo is the third born child from alejandro and lupe castillo ! alejandro was a renowned soccer player from jalisco, mexico . he played for the mexican national team AND for Barcelona FC . lupe castillo is also from jalisco , mexico , but she attended school in spain where she began as a seamstress for a small vintage boutique before going off on her own to start her own exclusive brand that made it big - as in , only those who could really afford the clothing could wear it . lupe is owner to ROSARIO . lupe and alejandro met in spain , but ultimately moved to chicago to settle down with their kids since kylie’s paternal grandparents lived there.

Kylie was born in Chicago , Illinois , but throughout her childhood , she bounced between Chicago, Los Angeles , and Barcelona ! 

kylie took after her dad , immediately falling in love with soccer since she was little . it wasn’t like the castillos pushed her into it , she found the sport herself . kylie , along with her siblings were a sports family in general . most of her siblings got into some sport growing up , whether they took it seriously or not was up to them , but kylie definitely did. 

kylie and her dad are really close for the fact that he basically coached her throughout her entire athletic career . kylie is very competitive because of this , and super into keeping herself fit . she sees a goal , she wants it , and she’ll do anything to get it . her jersey is #3 !

besides soccer , she really loves to sing and it came out of nowhere but it was due to all the family parties she has . often an acoustic guitar would be brought out and everyone , including kylie would be singing along to vincente fernandez - heck , you know the castillos hired a mariachi band to be part of these gatherings . 

ky spent a lot of time with her grandparents who would ALWAYS be blasting old mariachi / love songs , singing at the top of their lungs to each other , and from this kylie enjoyed what music did for her . performing was just another thing that came easy to her . the stage , whether it be an actual stage or just a small little space where she was surrounded by family , it was home to her , and she was never afraid . the one place where she could vocally express herself is through her lyrics . ky and her cousins often would write down song lyrics , pretend to perform for thousands of people - but it wasn’t something she ever thought she’d do . it was just for fun , and she took up extra curriculars besides soccer that related to it . i . e dance , acting , etc. 

yet , that was something else , her eyes were on the prize , and that was soccer . sort of . 

kylie had everything set for her to continue playing soccer after high school , to eventually make it onto the US Women’s Soccer team - yet she deadass started to slowly give it all up at the beginning of her 4th year of high school , hanging with the stoner kids , practicing less , putting less effort. she eventually found the underground rap scene -  she loved soccer , but it was time for something else , especially when her dad was mad at her , the field didn’t feel like home like the stage did .

on soundcloud , and youtube , kylie lent her vocals to some guys she met , being on their tracks . her sound was unique because she sang and rapped in both spanish and english . she was earning a name online , her followers going up and tbh , she wasn’t trying but it came to her and when she saw the numbers rise , and her name get out there a bit . she rlly started working on that part of her life . 

A MESS ?! * TW : abortion , drugs , etc .

in high school , she met giovanni ho ho hoe narciso . they were friends for a long time until finally , they started dating . definitely one of the reasons, but not the main reason why she also didn’t care about the sport as much - but kylie’s dad blamed gio a lot fo kylie not playing soccer . so her dad didn’t like gio , and to make matters worse , he didn’t like gio’s dad . so it was a HOT MESS . kylie ultimately had to choose between her family and gio , and when she said yes to marrying gio , she chose gio .  

18 years old and she ran off to marry gio - except that didn’t happen . 

she woke up one morning , he was gone and she couldn’t get a hold of him anymore . ky really didn’t have a choice besides going back to her family , and BET her dad was all ‘i told you so’ 

she couldn’t contact gio but YOU BET she ended up finding him eventually to get in the lasdt mfng word but that conversation ended up with her just being hurt , and it was the last time she really saw gio . he moved on , whether she believed it or not , he did .

so fast forward not long after that meeting . kylie found out she’s pregnant . obviously , it was gio’s . and she had two choices , keep it or get rid of it . 

without telling anyone , except her best friend , kylie got an abortion . which , no one knows , not even her family , not even gio .

SECRET ! 

        ***again , not many people know this ? but the                  one above is a secret too ?? she’s just full of          secrets. JKFDHDFKG

from 20 - 21 , kylie moved out , hopping from place to place within chicago . but she definitely went off grid . not caring for social media , not contacting her parents . 

kylie went into a strip club and at first it was for jokes , but when she got on the pole - she was actually good ?? JDKHGDKFJHDFKJH so the manager offered her a job and well , bitch took it . so she did that for a year , hanging with the wrong crowd, drinking every day , smoking weed which is a staple for her , but she started to do blow - which is .. not a staple for her . it was a dangerous year for kylie .

but doing blow , and selling it for awhile while working the pole gave her the connections she needed to meet rich guys with status in the music industry. 

so eventually , her EP made it in the hands of a producer for sony music latin . 

so she left the pole and started being featured with big time Latin names 

think cardi b’s start up and yeah , she definitely drugged men and stole from them while doing this too DKJGFHDKFJ

PERSONALITY + CURRENT SITUATION !

kylie’s back bitches ! as in people already knew her but she’s been M.I.A for a year , so she’s back and ppl are like wtf KDJGHDKFJGHSFKDJ and she lives in New York now

currently she’s working on her first album release.

besides the mess , she’s a GOD DAMN GOOD TIME. if you ever need to get drunk and party. kylie is your girl . if you need to get fucked up, you better have her on speed dial.

kylie’s the bitch with the bottle of patron , serving tequila shots , and then dancing on top of tables.

highkey always ready for a fight . she doesn’t care where she is , she will always SWING. don’t play games thinking she’s gonna back down from a fight bc she won’t. if u want a fight , ky will give u one KJDHGKSFJDHGKSDJGH talk shit get hit is her motto and i hate her for it

she has a black cat named mijo

her friends and family are the loves of her life . literally , if you mean something to her , there’s nothing she won’t do for you . she will ADORE YOU

if ur her enemy .... that’s fun too. :)

confident AF

she’s an all around bitch i hate her , but she’s a mess , and she’s funny , and she’s too much sometimes .

too stubborn for her own good all the time bc she thinks she’s always right. 

she’s also really goofy when she wants to be

has a hell of a good work ethic , will get shit done when it needs to be done . is definitely the pushy friend to encourage others to do the same.

BEST HYPE WOMAN EVER

she loves assholes.

her lito, lita, ita, tito {grandparents} are her favourite people ever

will cuss you out in spanish and english

hella hot tempered and uhm...

YEAH THERE’S A LOT BUT YEAH I THINK I GOT IT COVERED KGJHDSKFHG

[foegold]

people be wanting to know about a lil blue bastard. this ones long as hell so its under the cut jsdhfg

Your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

farmer! he’d just keep living the way he’d been living. it’s the sort of life he imagines he’ll return to one day, after he’s seen and done enough. ‘enough’ is a really arbitrary end goal though

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

who in the party wouldn’t he trust with his life tbh. in the most literal sense he’d trust Eli with it just because he knows Eli can bring him back from dying in some stupid and ill-advised way

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

frogs are good, try to be nice to people but if they’re mean to you first then at least a few bets are off, the rich should probably be eaten. killing is sometimes necessary but maybe try some other stuff first

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

he doesn’t have any siblings, and his relationship with his mom and recently present dad is. a little weird, and not all the way comfortable, and not like really bad, but just confusing? it’s confusing. at least he’s had more transparency from his mom recently than just about any other time. it’s a start

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

he trusts other tieflings a little quicker than other races but its not really saying much because he’s not smart and if you’re good at talking and sound like you know what you’re talking about he’ll just believe you. he doesn’t have the good sense to second think it without prompting

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

so far just about every interaction with nobility has been messy or bad or scary or all three so right now the opinion is “not great”. also thats just too much money. whaddahell would you do with that much money.  he’s generally uneasy with authority figures at best, and flat out paralyzed by them at worst. he’s easy to bully when he doesn’t have anyone backing him up and he knows and hates it

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

he cycles through an assortment of sweaters but the one he wears the most is the heart sweater he got in Wunjo that’s been altered a few times in the last few months. he do keep collecting those scars tho, before starting adventuring he had a handful of minor scars just from working around the farm with the animals and the equipment and from romping around in the country. now he’s got all sorts, but the most prominent ones are: the thin scar on the left side of his face, starting just below the eyebrow and curving gently below his eye (the last time Leo would leave a mark on him); the twisted angry scars across his torso from being mauled by a giant undead horse(?); and the fluid, patterned necromancy scars slowly spreading across his back, creeping along inch by inch

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

besides his own house, Roman’s house has been the nicest! its warm and theres soup and friends there. there was a run down little ranch house somewhere at some point, but he’s not so sure anymore that he didn’t just dream about fixing the place up with his best friend

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

he doesn’t have a god he actively worships, but he’s peripherally aware of the god in the mountains that’s responsible for some of the most brutal storms in the region. he doesn’t care much about religion but hes got the same amount of concern most people would have about evil deities and what their followers do

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

probably woodworking! its handy, it’s useful for living out in the country where you have to either make the tools or furniture or fun items to put on a shelf you want, or go out of your way and also spend money to get them. maybe an actual alchemy set and/or poison kit but 1) playing with poison just a fun hobby for him and Xan to get into when they have the time and the plants for it, and 2) man he wouldnt follow the instruction manual anyway so whats the point

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

will his friends be okay? will he be okay? is there an FAQ for tieflings learning that they’re much closer to fiend lineage than they originally thought? that would be convenient and helpful. is john gonna figure out more about the little men named ‘adam’ that’re allegedly everywhere?  if he could know one thing about the future, he’d like to know if everything will end out okay. if things will turn out as nice as he’d like them to.

What colors are associated with your character?

looks at the camera like im on the office

blue, white, and black are the big ones but im trying to pepper in a few other colors. reds and yellows are a close second

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

everyone sits squarely in the #1 spot on the rescue list

that aside john and roman are extremely high priority, they’re not the sturdiest and if something looked at them too hard they might keel over. baster and xan come next, he knows baster’s a shit brick house but he keeps seeing bad things happen to her and really hes just had Enough of it. eli’s a little lower priority because they can heal themselves if they’re in a tight spot, and then blu considers himself least concern. he knows he can get thrashed around some and still survive, he’d rather take a beating and know he’ll walk out of it than let someone else take it and wind up dead

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

pathos, it’s easy to make him feel for u. legit any of them work though as long as you talk it up good enough he’ll believe you and if there aren’t any glaring conflicts between what you’re selling him and his base morals then it’s relatively easy to get him on board

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

idk probably something really simple that he put all of .5 of a second of thought into. hes not smart and doesnt have good foresight so he’d probably ask for a frog or smth unless there was something very much more pressing and present

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

favorite(?) spell is life transference. it hurts a bit but it keeps his friends safe so it’s worth it. invisibility is up there too, its fun and easy to steal from stores when ur not visible

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

he doesn’t like lying and also lies really poorly. he’s usually just honest from the get-go, its easier and feels better. if he has to lie its through omission, bold faced lies really just dont work

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

all sorts....bro the world is full of animals and lots of them like to be pet

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

he thought he’d grow up and be a farmer like his mom, the adventuring thing was extremely unplanned and impromptu. he hoped he could be a kind and brave person though, the way Canna described his dad.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

random roll says it’s Roman, he’d probably laugh because the only reason that would happen is because the party is fooling around with potions again. Roman’s very married and very in love with his husband and makes sure everyone knows it all the time

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

that doesn’t seem like a very viable circumstance, the only npc thats important enough that he’d listen to for something like that is his mom and she actively encourages him to take care of himself and his friends, and lets him make his own decisions about what he’s doing with his life, so

What unusual talents does your character possess?

idk if its all that unusual of a talent but he got really good at stealing and pickpocketing and he can do a sick flip. also does some black magic sometimes

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

it’s his name, u kno. bluebell is his middle name, but Canna called him bluebell growing up and he latched onto it a lot more than arden, and he thinks its a nice name, and a nice flower, and it sure would be nice if people would stop laughing when he introduces himself as “Blu”,

(blu was originally a stand-in name until i named him something else but it really grew on me and it fit him so! it didnt change, he just got other names too)

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

The Moon. 👀

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

he’s def scared of magic sometimes, especially his own. he also really wants to understand it better though, and be less scared, or at least control it better. imo it’s a healthy fear, theres been lots of magic mishaps 

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

he learned common and infernal from mom! and he’s learning draconic from xan. it’s a nice downtime activity, sit down with ur best friend and homie and learn a new language just for fun

[tayegi]

Seven Days Ch. 1 (m)

A series of short smut ficlets detailing every day of Jungkook’s week-long chastity training.

Warning: BDSM themes; sub!Jungkook smut

***

Day 1

"Damn girl, how many guys have you gone through this year alone?" Jungkook asks with amusement as he watches your latest rejected lover bang on the front door from his vantage point leaning against the balcony railing.

You sigh deeply, "He's the third failure… And this one only lasted 10 days this time. How is it getting worse?"

"It's because you don't know how to pick them right," He idly comments as he watches your former boytoy cause a scene yelling your name down below.

"___!" He shouts, "___, I'm sorry! Please give me another chance!"

You wince as you take another deep swig from your glass, "Oh my god… This is so embarrassing. We were together for less than two weeks. How can he be acting like this already?"

"Was the sex really that good?" Jungkook asks with a raised brow as he turns to face you.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," you say with a chuckle. "But aren't you just nosy?"

He smirks in response, "I'm just curious as to what would cause a seemingly normal, self-respecting guy to act in such a humiliating way," he says, cringing slightly when the boy on the doorstep suddenly bursts out hysterical wails of your name. "Wow. You must have given him the fuck of his life."

You roll your eyes, "Once again, you prove your extreme ignorance in the realm of BDSM. That's not how it works, babe."

Jungkook is completely unfazed by your correction. In fact, his smirk only grows in size, "Is that so? Well, then I guess you'll just have to teach me…"

You eye your housemate warily, perfectly aware of his intentions. Jungkook has been flirty with you since the day you moved in, and this flirtiness has exponentially increased upon the discovery of your hidden kinky side. You don't run into him often in the huge co-op with dozens of occupants, but every time the two of you have crossed paths in the kitchen or the lounge spaces, he has made his interest painfully obvious… Not that you've ever taken him seriously. He's a fuckboi by every definition of the word, and he'd proposition anything breathing. He's only taken a recent interest to you due to the seemingly exotic and taboo nature of your sexual interests.

And you don't mind it. Although he can be rather sleazy at times, it's lighthearted fun. And besides, who wouldn't welcome attention from the gorgeous brunette?

You lightly push your hair back as you return his smile with a coy one of your own, "Oh, sweetheart. You precious little boy. You wouldn't survive chastity training with me. I would wreck you."

But rather than scaring him off, your warning only increases his interest. Jungkook slowly runs his tongue over his bottom lip, "Mmm. And how is that supposed to be a bad thing?" he asks, taking a long stride forward to encroach in your space.

Slowly, you raise your glass to your lips and take a sip of the rich liquor before responding, "You're very spoiled, Jeon Jungkook," you inform him in a slow drawl, "With your body and that cute little face of yours, I bet you have girls eating out of your hand. You can make girls do whatever you want in bed, huh?"

His lips curl into a shit-eating grin, "Ah, so you've heard the rumors?"

"That's not a compliment," you say with a laugh, "You're so used to getting what you want; to having girls line up to suck your dick at the drop of a hat, that you have absolutely no discipline or self-control. You wouldn't be able to handle a woman like me, baby boy."

He likes the nickname. You can tell by the way his eyes darken and he subconsciously shifts forward until his knees brush the edge of your chair. "How can you be so sure of that, princess?" he asks in a husky voice.

You can't deny the way it sends shivers down your back. Despite your best intentions, you are helpless attracted to your sexy housemate. And you're quickly forgetting why this would be a bad idea. "Damn, Jeon. I didn't know that you were the submissive type."

"I'm not," he chuckles, "I'd much rather be in control. But for you? I'd do anything you want to get at that sweet little pussy of yours. So you gotta tie me up and whip me or whatever, I'm game… Damn, even that sounds hot coming from you."

"I don't know if you're joking or not… But you do realize that in chastity, I wouldn't let you anywhere near my pussy for a very long time?"

"Mmhmm, and that's fine. As long as I get to it at the end."

"Oh my god," you gasp, "Jungkook, are you actually serious about this?!"

"As serious as I've ever been," he says. "Come on, ___. At least I'd be better than that guy."

And right on cue, your former sub screams out your name at that very second, "___! Please give me another chance! I'll be a good boy, mistress!"

Your face fills with heat and you quickly drop your head in shame, "Fuck my life," you groan, "Why does this always happen to me?"

"You know I'd never act like that, no matter what happens," Jungkook points out.

You slowly raise your head to look at him. He's definitely just doing all that he can to get in your pants… But he does have a point… The cocky fuckboi would never cause all this drama, even if you ended things. This might not be such a bad idea… "Oh god, I can't believe I'm actually considering this."

Jungkook's grin spreads from ear to ear, "It's thirty days, right? When do we start?"

"Wait, wait, hold up," you say, waving your hands up in front of him, "A month of chastity training is for experienced subs. I doubt you would even last a week," you snort.

He cocks an eyebrow, "Didn't that screaming idiot downstairs last 10 days?"

"Yeah, but—"

"So you think that I can't even beat that loser?"

Fire burns in his eyes, and you sigh in dismay as you realize that you have unintentionally sparked his competitive side. "Why don't we take a week as a practice trial?" you offer, "If you can last through this week, then I'll admit that I've underestimated you."

"And?" he asks, looking expectant, "Is that it?"

"What do you mean?" you ask with a frown, "What do you want then?"

"Well, it just seems like I deserve a reward for enduring your torture for an entire week," he says with a grin, "So what do I get in return?"

You laugh as you finally catch on, "Anything you want," you easily agree, "If you can last through my chastity training for seven full days, I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

He cocks his head to the side as he considers your offer, "What if what I want is to fuck you until your legs give out?"

A sliver of arousal slides down your back. You lick your lips, "Then I would ask you whether you'd prefer me on my back or on my hands and knees…"

Jungkook's eyes darken so much that the pupil overflows his irises, "Fuck…" he curses, "When do we start? Tomorrow?"

"Why wait?"

And with that, you jump to your feet and snatch his hand to drag him off to your room, both of you immediately forgetting about the hysterical man downstairs.

***

"Here we go. This is all we need," you say as you dump a small plastic contraption on the bed next to Jungkook.

The dark-haired man picks up the translucent device with interest, "Is this the chastity cage? It doesn't look that scary."

"That's because I'm starting you on the easy level since you're new. We'll move to the steel one if you misbehave…"

"Hmm this is fine then… although—wait, did you use this on that loser?!" he asks, eyes popping open with disgust.

"Of course not," you snort, "I've never used this on anyone because I've never been nice enough to use plastic before. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Oh…" he says, "Thanks, I guess?"

You simply shake your head in response, "Let's start with some ground rules, okay? The first and most important rule is the safe word. I need to make sure that what we do together is completely consensual and if you feel uncomfortable at any time, you are more than welcome to use your safe word. I promise that I will stop whatever I'm doing as soon as I hear it, and I will do everything I can to make you feel safe and secure again."

"Damn… That sounds hardcore."

Concerned, you reach over to touch his knee, "It's not too late to back out if you want to. No judgement, I swear."

But he gives you a look as though you're crazy, "Are you serious? Why would I ever back out? No, bring on the hardcore. Give me all you've got."

Your lips twitch with amusement, "Pain and torture isn't all about whips and handcuffs and whatever other dungeon porn you're envisioning," you inform him, "Sometimes the methods can be much subtler… But every bit as torturous."

"I don't care. I'm down for anything."

You bite back the urge to laugh at his foolhardy naivety, "Ok… But don't forget that you asked for it… Although you can back out at anytime. Use colors to indicate how you're feeling. I'll check in with you occasionally, and you should say 'green' if it's okay to proceed, 'yellow' if I should slow down, and 'red' if I need to stop immediately. But you can use these color words at any time when you feel uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

"Of course," he says, "I've always had a safeword with everyone I've slept with, so this is nothing new."

You smile at that, pleased by his thoughtfulness, "That's good to hear. Now this is the chastity cage," you say, pointing to the plastic object still in his grip, "It's set to lock up your flaccid penis so that you can't get an erection. And if you try, it'll be very painful. You are to wear this cage for the entire week, except when I choose to take it off of you or when I am washing it. Do you understand?"

"Sure. That's what I expected."

"Great. Now here is the key to it," you say, reaching under your shirt to pull out a long chain from which a tiny silver key dangles as a pendant. "Only I have the ability to set you free. So don't you even bother trying to tamper with the cage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now are you ready to begin?"

"Hell yeah. You gonna put this cage on me now?"

"No," you say with a glimmer of a smile, "First I need to prepare you."

"Prepare me?" he says with an arched eyebrow, "How do you go about doing that?"

"Why, by emptying your balls, of course."

He starts at that, "What?"

Your lips unfurl into a wide smile, "Do you have a problem with that, sweetheart?"

"No of course not. I just didn't expect it so soon—not that I'm complaining or anything. God, that's fucking hot. Yes, princess. Do whatever you want to me."

Your smile grows in size, "I'll make you regret saying that."

He simply scoffs in response, "I'm not one of your weak, feeble-minded boytoys. I know you don't have much experience with a real man, so this might come as a surprise."

You snicker at his boasting. "I'll enjoy making you eat your words," you promise in an ominous tone as you reach over to slide both hands under his hoodie, "Now shut up and strip."

He eagerly obeys, pulling the garment straight off his head before doing the same with his t-shirt. Your eyes widen at the sculpted perfection of his lean torso and the complete confidence with which he undresses. Maybe he is a bit different than your previous lovers…

"Like what you see?" he teases when he catches your hungry gaze.

You quickly snap your eyes up to his face, "Not bad," you quip, "Now take off the rest. I wanna see what you're packing."

He doesn't hesitate to unbuckle his belt and yank his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop. His cock proudly stands tall at once, so thick and swollen that you would've thought you'd already started the torture. He's the biggest you've ever seen and your mouth goes dry with slight trepidation.

Jungkook catches on at once, "Don't be scared, baby," he purrs, "I'll try not to hurt you."

Your eyes narrow, "You're cute to think you'll get anywhere near my pussy."

"We'll see about that… Now are you going to blow me already or…?"

"What makes you think that you deserve my mouth?" you shoot back as you reach over to lightly encircle his engorged length with two fingers. You're dismayed to find that your fingers can barely touch around his thickness.

"Mmm. Seven days, princess... Just you wait."

You tsk your tongue, "It's a good thing you're so pretty," you say as you lightly run your fingers up and down his length, "I'm really going to enjoy the next week…"

"Pretty?" he spits back in surprise, "Are you fucking high or something?"

It's obvious that the cocky man has never been described with such effeminate terms before. He's probably only had girls beg for his dick and call him 'daddy.'" A smile spreads across your face and you quickly drop to your knees to swipe your tongue across the sensitive ridge of his tip.

Jungkook's breathing falters, "Fuck… I thought you said I didn't deserve your mouth?"

"I'm feeling generous today," you say as you begin to lap at the swollen head of his cock, "Besides, how else will you know what you're missing?" And with that, you sink your mouth down on him as far as you can.

The dark-haired man throws his head back with a hiss of pleasure, both hands planted into the mattress behind him as he leans back for support, "Fuck, that's good… Oh god, I can't believe this is actually happening."

You hum around his length as you begin a harsh pace, swallowing him down and sucking so hard that his head spins.

"Shit!" he curses, hands jerking out to grab at your hair, as though to hold you in place. Later on, you'd punish him for the audacity to touch you without permission, but this time, you'll let it slide. "How are you so good at this?! Fuck, I'm close."

You briefly consider pulling off to tease him, but decide to save that for another day. It's much more fun to lull him into a false sense of security. So you lave your tongue against the base of his cock and reach down to fondle his balls.

Jungkook tips his head back and moans in such a wanton way that heat floods between your legs. God, he's so hot that you don't know who enjoys this more. Every muscle in his ridiculously toned, muscular body is strained, six-pack abs flexing with each breath and biceps bulging from the tight hold he has on your hair. And the sweat that flows across his honey skin and plasters his dark hair to his neck… You'd like nothing more to lick every drop off his tight little body. But first things first…

"Cum for me, Jungkook," you coax so sweetly as you come up for a breath before jerking forward to bury his cock down your throat until your nose is brushing his pelvis.

"Oh my god, ___!" he exclaims, hands tightening on your hair so hard that it hurts. But it's so fucking sexy that you can't help but moan over his dick, determined to suck him dry.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he curses over and over as his eyes roll back in his head and his knuckles turn white, "Your mouth is so fucking hot. I'm gonna. I'm—oh fuck!" he practically bellows as his hips surge forward and he messily spills his seed down your throat.

You patiently massage your tongue over his twitching length until he groans from overstimulation and pulls out. Then, you lick your lips to catch the milky cum that escaped the corners of your mouth.

Jungkook groans at the sight, "Fuck, that's hot."

You laugh and rise to your feet to gather him in your arms, "Good job, baby," you coo as you rub your hands over his broad back and plant little kisses over his sweaty face, "You did so well."

Jungkook is equal parts bemused and confused, "I've never been praised for just cumming before," he pants, trying to catch his breath and slow his still-racing pulse, "This is a new one."

You giggle as you thread your hands through his mussed hair and pet him affectionately, "It's because you're so pretty when you cum," you tell him. "And you taste so good. What a good boy!"

"This is kinda weird... but I can't say I hate it," Jungkook wryly comments as he turns to allow you to nuzzle his neck.

You press your lips against the underside of his jaw to hide a smirk. If only he knew that you were just buttering him up for the slaughter… "Let's get you cleaned up so I can put the chastity cage on, okay?"

"Sure," he easily agrees, flopping over on the bed with a deep sigh of contentment as he watches you shuffle through the contents of your nightstand through bleary eyes.

You find a pack of wipes and take your time in cleaning him up, paying special attention to his soft cock lying across his thigh. Jungkook hisses softly through his teeth when you clean off the excess cum and saliva off his length, then sits up with confusion when he feels a cool sensation against his base.

"Ah, what’s that?" he asks, staring down at the plastic ring sliding down his length with wide eyes.

"This part holds the entire cage in place," you explain as you gently attempt to fold his soft length over as carefully as you can, "Does this hurt?"

"No, it's fine."

"That's good. I was afraid that it wouldn't fit," you say as you carefully slide the head of his cock into the aerated plastic cover. "It's a bit of a tight fit… But this is only more reason not to get hard."

"So I can’t get hard in this thing?" Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

"You can try," you grin, "But it might be a painful experience… I wouldn't recommend it."

"Eh, it's fine," he says with a lazy stretch of his arms over his head, "You sucked me so good, I'm totally satisfied. I won't even want another orgasm for the rest of the week."

Your lips twitch, "Are you sure of that, Jungkook?"

"Yeah. I know you see me as this crazy horndog, but I'm really not like that. I have self-control, babe. And as hot as you are, I'm not gonna lose my shit trying to hump you like a dog or something."

"Alright… Whatever you say," your tone is skeptical as you try not to laugh. He really is just so cute and naïve. "There, all done," you say as you slide the lock around the cage and give it a little kiss. "Like I said before, only I have the key so don't even bother trying to escape."

"All I gotta do is wear this for a week?" Jungkook asks as he touches the device with curiosity, "No big deal."

"I don't think you're understanding, baby boy," you say, voice hardening, "This cage is just a symbol. But your cock now belongs to me. I get to choose what I want to do with you whenever I want. You are mine. Do you understand?"

"Y-yeah," he stammers, eyes as wide as saucers, "Fuck yeah."

"Good boy," you coo as you hug him to your chest and kiss the top of his head, "Now put your clothes back on and get out of my room."

"Wait, what?! ___, I thought—"

You ignore him to gather his clothes and throw them on the bed, "Don't make me repeat myself."

Gulping at the warning in your voice, he hurries to obey, "I just… I don't understand. Don't you want me to reciprocate first or something?" he asks, wincing when the fabric of his pants brushes his caged penis.

"Oh, sweetheart," you sigh as you cup his face in both hands, "I don't think you're fully understanding… So let me explain one more time: I am in control here, understand? I will decide when and if you get to put your filthy hands on my body. You did good today, but not nearly good enough to get a taste of my pussy. If you continue to perform so well, I might feel generous. But I call every shot here, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he automatically chirps.

His obedience pleases you, "What a good boy," you gush as you give his cheeks a little squeeze, "I think I'm going to thoroughly enjoy the next week… Now get out of my sight."

Jungkook ogles at you in surprise, even as he rushes to yank on his shirt, "Wait, but ___! When will I see you again?!"

"Sometime tomorrow… Whenever I feel like it."

"But, ___!" he complains, "I—"

But you've already shoved him out the door. What an interesting start to Jungkook's week of chastity… Only, you fear that he might be too comfortable. Next time he leaves your bedroom, you'll have to make sure that he's in tears.

You lick your lips at the image. Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

***

A/N: Please don’t ask me about updates! 

[ponyregrets]

for the friends-to-lovers prompts, i found this in a text post i once reblogged: "we drunk-kissed but you forgot about it and i don’t know how to act around you anymore wtf". hope you have a nice day !!!

I combined this with another prompt (a tweet about a teacher with a birthday message on his forehead) from @allstandsilver

AO3!

Bellamy's first mistake is assuming that he's safe because his twenty-eighth birthday is on a Monday.

He doesn't make any plans, obviously. Celebrating the weekend before always feels kind of like cheating, but he invited people out for drinks on Friday, which he assumed was sufficient. It wasn't like he was ignoring his birthday.

When he gets home from work, Clarke isn't there, which isn't particularly surprising, but she has left a cupcake with a single candle on the kitchen counter, and a card that says, Happy birthday! See you in a couple hours, I hope. It's a fairly typical Clarke message, one that would have pissed him off, once upon a time. He moved in with her because the rent was cheap and the apartment was nice, and Clarke was friends with Monty, who is his friend who is least likely to tell him to move in with someone who is secretly awful as a joke.

And Clarke really isn't awful. The biggest issue was that she's rich and her parents own her very nice condo, and Bellamy was surly and vaguely resentful about the way she didn't have to work like a normal person and could still take care of herself. He might have been benefiting from her wealth, but that didn't make him like her.

Luckily, Clarke could do that all on her own. Within about a month, their bickering had moved from barbed to affectionate, and as he got to know her, he started to realize how hard Clarke did work, albeit with weird hours and less compensation than most people would need to survive. She wasn't an idle rich person, she was a rich person who took advantage of being well off to do what she wanted. It sucked that he couldn't do the same, but that's not really Clarke's fault. She works part-time for Planned Parenthood and volunteers at various museums and goes to parties her mother has just to argue with rich assholes, and on the side, she does art.

Now that he likes her, he's glad she's got the life she wants. She deserves it.

Right now, she's probably in her studio, so he texts Do you want me to make dinner for you or are you good? and goes to find a beer. He's going to have a couple drinks, not do any grading, and play video games, and when Clarke gets home, she'll probably hang out with him. It's a pretty good birthday plan, as far as he's concerned.

When the door opens half an hour into this plan, he calls, "Hey, welcome back!" and doesn't think anything of Clarke's not responding until the blindfold goes on.

"Happy birthday, dickweed," says Murphy, and shoves at shot into his hand.

"We love you," Miller adds.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me stay home and play Stardew Valley."

Miller takes one of his arms and Murphy takes the other and they pull him up and out of the apartment. He doesn't resist that much--they're probably not going to kill him on purpose, and if they got into the apartment, Clarke is at least involved, and she won't let them kill him by accident--but he makes sure there's enough resistance that they know he's not thrilled about this turn of events.

When he gets into the car, he gets another shot, and then Clarke says, "Your safe word is banana cream pie."

"Really?" he asks, downing the shot. It does actually taste like banana cream pie, which is kind of terrifying. "Is my safe word supposed to be dirty? That seems counter-productive."

"Is banana cream pie dirty?"

"It sounds like a euphemism for something. Come on, that's some sexual imagery."

"It might have been too long since you've gotten laid. Are you planning to figure out what sex act banana cream pie could refer to and then ask me to do it?"

"I'm definitely planning to do the first part." The second's not unappealing either, but he knows better than to fuck his roommate, especially his roommate he has a crush on. That's a recipe for disaster.

"Me too," Clarke admits. "But if you need to get out of this at any time, tell me banana cream pie and I'll bail you out."

"And you'll be a pathetic asshole," says Murphy. Then he squeaks, so Bellamy assumes Clarke kicked him.

"She'd only agree to this if we gave you an out," says Miller.

"This is why she's my favorite."

"Uh huh."

She's also his favorite because she ignores Miller. "So, do you need to get out?" she asks.

If he was a little better at letting friends down and/or self-preservation, he'd just say the safe word, and he and Clarke would get out of the car and have the low-key evening he'd been planning. That would definitely be the right choice. But they went to so much trouble, and he's kind of curious, and he's going to get to hang out with Clarke either way, so--

"I need another shot," he says, and everyone cheers.

*

Bellamy's alarm is set to go off every weekday at five-thirty, which is good because he wouldn't have remembered to set it and bad because his fucking phone is going off and he's definitely going to die. His mouth tastes like old leather, his whole body aches, and he thinks he banged his elbow on something, but he has no idea what or when or how.

"Happy birthday to me," he mutters, and staggers into the shower.

He stays in there for longer than usual, letting the hot water ease the various aches and pains in his muscles, but despite that, when he gets out of the shower, he still sees that BIRTHDAY BOY is written on his forehead in bright red sharpie, apparently unaffected by the steady stream of water trying to wash it off.

The calculations happen as quickly as they can, given how slowly his brain is moving. He spent a long time in the shower, and he's been dragging his feet every step of the way on top of that, so he doesn't have a lot of time to spare. He could try to scrub the marker off and be late, or he could just let it slide. His first-period class is APUSH, and while they're obviously assholes, they're the kind of assholes who will have fun with the teacher coming in with something weird written on his forehead. And then he's got second period free and he can deal with the problem then. That should be enough time.

It's not the best solution. But it's the best one he's got.

He gets dressed, gets packed, and makes sure he's completely ready to go before he pushes Clarke's door open and shakes her awake.

"What?" she asks, muzzy.

She's good at falling back to sleep, so he doesn't feel that bad for saying, "Hey, quick question."

She sits up, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah."

"Is there writing anywhere else on my body?"

It doesn't seem to be the question she was expecting. "What?"

"I've got this," he says, pointing to his forehead. "Anywhere else? I don't want to find out from a student."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't." She finds her glasses on the bedside table and examines him, with a small frown. "I think you're good, as long as you keep wearing exactly that amount of clothing."

"Cool. Sorry I woke you up."

"I probably deserved it." She wets her lips. "That's it?"

"Yeah. Have a good day, get more sleep, I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

*

In Bellamy's experience, high-school kids think they're much slicker than they are. Which, to be fair, is true of a lot of people. But it's clear even to his alcohol-fogged brain that his APUSH class is laughing at him and they think he hasn't noticed, which is kind of pathetic. That is a level of failure to deceive that is truly epic.

"Okay," he says, once he's done with his lecture. No one has said a single word about the message on his forehead, and that is impressive. They're passing notes about it, but the class collectively understands that this is a rare and beautiful moment that must be protected at all costs. "Before we break into groups, any questions?"

Fox's hand shoots up, and he points at her. "How old are you, Mr. Blake?"

There's some giggling, and someone hisses, be cool in what they clearly think is a whisper. He can't tell who it is, though, so that's something.

"Uh, I just turned twenty-eight."

Apparently it wasn't the answer they were expecting; the news sets off another round of frantic whispering.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but did you guys think I was younger or older?"

"I thought you were, like, twenty-four, tops," says Sterling. "Maybe just out of college."

"Thanks, I think. Is any of this relevant to the exercise we're doing?"

"You asked," Sterling shoots back, which is true.

"I did, thanks for letting me know. Any relevant questions?"

"Did you do anything fun last night?" asks Jordan, and he makes a show of rolling his eyes. He's Monty's little brother, and Miller has a huge crush on Monty, so Jordan might actually have insider information on Bellamy's private life. It's something he tries not to think about.

"I don't know, did you? Get to work, Green."

The period ends with none of the students having told him about the writing on his forehead, which is the kind of thing that feels like it deserves a reward. He had expected someone to tell him, and the fact that no one did is genuinely impressive. They did a really good job.

Me: Do you think I can leave this message on my forehead until a student tells me it's there?

Clarke: I think you can do whatever you wantThat's your question?

Me: My first period class didn't say anything about itI want to see how long they can go

Clarke: They're going to counter-bet how long it'll be before you notice

Me: So everyone will have an exciting dayHow's your hangover?

Clarke: I don't get hangovers, I'm not an amateurDid you have fun?

Me: I think soMy memories are basically a fight scene filmed by Peter Jackson with a strobe light, so it's hard to be sure

Clarke: Ouch

Me: Did I ever use my safe word?

Clarke: NoIt seemed like you were having fun

Me: I'm pretty sure I wasThanks for helping to set it up

Clarke: [thumb's up emoji]

By fourth period, his day has completely turned around. His students have all entered into some kind of blood pact about not telling him that he has something written on his forehead, and three of his coworkers have come over to tell him privately, which means he can get them in on the whole thing. The students are convinced he just hasn't looked in the mirror since whenever the message was left, and there's some sort of pool to see who can find out who wrote it, which is doomed to failure. Unless someone confesses, the mystery of who wrote on his forehead will probably remain unsolved.

Still, it's nice to see the students banding together to keep a secret from him. Anything that gets the kids united is good in his book.

Madi Taylor from his sixth-period freshmen is the one who finally tells him, quiet and a little hesitant, after a homework question, when no one is around. She's clearly aware it's a betrayal, but she is one of his favorite students. He can't be mad she's on his side.

"You've got something on your forehead," is her way of putting it, which is pretty cute.

"Yeah, I know."

Her eyes widen. "Who told you?"

"Madi, how many mornings do you not look in the mirror before you go to school?"

"I heard you came right from the party."

"I don't know how anyone would know that, but I didn't." He smiles. "Don't tell them, I know you guys are having fun."

She looks dubious. "Aren't you going to get in trouble? Like, with the principal or something?"

"Not if everyone's cool."

Once she's gone, he texts Clarke someone finally cracked and then tries very hard to not think about when she'll respond, but that's an uphill battle. Because he always texts Clarke throughout the day, and she's been weird today. Off. Her replies feel terse, irritated and she could be distracted, but it feels like he fucked up something he doesn't even know about.

It's not even his fault, she was the one giving him endless shots. And she's the one who remembers what happened. He can't fix issues he doesn't know about.

Me: Did I do something to Clarke last night?

Miller: Dude, I'm not setting you up for this

Me: Setting me up for what?

Miller: Some shitty dad joke about how laid you got

He drops the phone and it clatters across the floor, startling his last-period class as they work on their quiz. It doesn't get close enough for anyone to pick it up, but Ethan does ask, "Did you finally see your reflection?"

"Eyes on your papers, it's just a phone," he says, grabbing it. "Two more minutes."

Me: Your shots got me blackout drunk and Clarke is mad at meTalk

Miller doesn't respond before the quiz ends, so Bellamy has to actually be a teacher instead of checking his phone, which is a fucking nightmare. Teaching is his passion, but finding out what happened last night and if he ruined his entire life hitting on Clarke or something would be nice too. That's the kind of data it's important to have.

"And yes, I have known about the writing on my face for the whole day," he tells them, wrapping up his lecture a minute before the bell. "But I'm proud of you guys for not telling me and assuming I don't know what mirrors are. Read the next chapter for tomorrow and be ready to talk about what you want to do for your projects."

He makes himself wait until all the kids are gone before he finally checks his phone, makes himself go to the top of the texts before he starts reading.

Miller: ShitUmOkI wasn't paying a ton of attentionFlirting with Monty etcBut I know you and Clarke were joined at the hipWhich is pretty standardBut you were drunk and touchy-feelyAnd later on I saw you guys full-on making outAnd then you told me you were leaving with this huge shit eating grin on your faceI figured you guys had sloppy drunk sex and I'd never hear the end of it

Me: Fuck I hope we didn'tIf I had sex with Clarke and FORGOTFuckThanks

Miller: Just remember, it takes twoYou weren't the only one grinning and slobberingJust talk to her

Me: I'm tryingThanks for the update

Miller: Let me know how it goesThe G-rated version

It's hard for Bellamy to believe there's going to be any version aside from the G-rated one, but he honestly understand why Miller thinks it's a good sign. If he was Clarke and he'd spent last night making out with her, only for her to spend the whole day texting him about some stupid shit, he'd probably be pretty upset. And if he thought that making out was a mistake, he probably wouldn't be snippy about it. He'd be relieved that she didn't know it had happened.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Even if he made out with someone he hated, he'd probably be annoyed if they just forgot. No matter how he felt about the person, he'd like to be memorable.

But really, there's only one way to find out why she's mad at him; there was only ever one way. They're just going to have to talk.

Me: Do you need dinner?

Clarke: At the studioBut thanks

Clarke's studio is a few blocks from their apartment, so he stops by on his way home from work all the time. If she'd said that on an ordinary night, he would probably stop by, so he can do it tonight too. It's not weird. Or at least, it shouldn't be. Everything is covered with a thin film of weirdness right now, but he'll break through it. He has to.

He's still mildly hungover and doesn't feel like cooking anyway, so he picks up some Chinese on his way. He can hear Clarke's angry playlist blaring as soon as he gets off the elevator, which isn't the best sign, but it's not like waiting will make it better. Not with unspoken grudges festering between them.

Not with his lips tingling with the knowledge that he kissed her and no fucking idea what it felt like.

"Clarke!" he calls, rapping on the door. "Open up, you need to eat!"

The music cuts off and the door swings open. Clarke is paint-splattered and wild, and he wants to kiss her now, fucking wants to kiss her all the time. It's not new, but it does seem more urgent.

"Did we make out last night?" he blurts out, and Clarke slumps against the wall.

"You remembered?"

"No," he admits. "I asked Miller why you were pissed at me and he said the last time he saw us, we were making out."

She wets her lips, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't think you were that drunk. I didn't know you--I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have--"

It makes sense all at once, even if it kind of breaks his heart. She thinks she took advantage of him and she's annoyed with herself for doing it. It's perfectly, totally understandable.

"Clarke, you didn't do anything wrong."

Her eyes flash. "How do you know? You don't know what happened."

"Did we kiss?"

"Yeah."

"Did we do anything else? After we got home."

"No. Just at the party. But you were way too drunk to--"

"You were pretty drunk too." He swallows, steps closer. "What happened? Why did we?"

"Because I wanted to!" she snaps. "Because I've been wanting to kiss you since you moved in and I thought you wanted to too and I--"

Interrupting someone with a kiss is, in Bellamy's experience, easier said than done. It happens all the time in movies and books, but it's hard to coordinate in real life, not nearly as fluid or smooth as he wants it to be. It should be a cool moment, but it takes a second to slot into place, Clarke's jaw under his fingers, her lips under his mouth.

But then she whimpers, tugs him close, kisses back, and it is familiar. They've done this before. They're good at this.

"I can't believe I forgot about this," he says. "Jesus, I didn't think it was possible for me to be so drunk I'd lose this."

Her smile is sheepish. "I did give you a lot of shots."

"Probably not just you. I'm pretty sure I drank my weight in birthday shots." He swallows. "So, uh--are we good?"

"Are we going to do that again?"

"I'm in love with you," he says. "So--yeah. As much as possible."

She laughs, winds her arms around his neck and kisses him again. "Wash your forehead off," she says. "Then we're good."

He had actually completely forgotten about the writing on his forehead; he hadn't had time to wash it off, with everything else happening, but it also didn't seem very important. "Do you know who wrote it?"

"No. But that's why I kissed you."

"Seriously?"

"I was just looking for an excuse."

"I'm glad you got one. Maybe I should keep it."

She pushes him away gently, still smiling. "Nope. Get cleaned up and we can have dinner."

He grins back. "It's a date."

[skz-mimi]

game of survival

plot: basically small scenarios taken off the time the survival program that formed stray kids was happening.

word count: 2k-ish

hi guys! it’s mari here! it took me a little while to put some stuff out for mimi, so i’m sorry for that. sorry for any typos in here, i tried my best to edit it in my free time but you never know hehe,,, anyways, i hope you guys like it!

*mãinha is regional “slang” for mother in brazilian portuguese

the first mission in the survival was to convince jyp that he should debut a girl within his new boygroup.

after much much work, and way too many meetings, she stood in front of the man that would decide her future, who would tell her what her 8 years of training would be worth.

“the team that will be debuting will be chan's project team, all 10 of you”

💌

“hello!” mimi sounded cheerful as she pressed ths buttons on a elevator “today we're moving into the dorms, so i’m bringing you guys here with me while i pack!”

she seemed giddy, a giggle leaving her lips as the thought of finally debuting hit her.

“mãinha, cheguei viu?”(mom*, i'm home, okay?) she said as she closed the door behind her, her mother greeting her back from the kitchen, still in portuguese.

her family wasn't crazy rich, but still, they were well off enough to have a big apartment that fit the three of them and their cats.

about the cats, mimi zoomed the camera in one of the sleeping cats, chanel, the eldest of the three, who was sleeping on the couch, before she walked to her room.

“and this... is my room” she turned the light switch on and filmed the white walls, waiting for the camera to focus again “miumiu, you're here?” the camera focus changed to her bed, where a white slept on top of the pink bed covers.

the remainder of her vlog was similar to that, she showed her parents, who looked proud of her, though they were quite camera shy, and showed her last cat, dior, a tabby she rescued on her way back from practice a year prior.

💌

with the making of hellevator, mirae felt apologetic towards chan. it just happened that he made a song in the female key, yet park jinyoung accused him of making a song to fit her. it didn't make much sense to her at all, she had a few parts, and even asked to have less parts so she wouldn't stick out too much.

things were looking rough, but she couldn't let that knock her, or any of her boys, down.

💌

with the 3:4:3 battles, a lot was happening. at first, mimi was glad she was in the same team as felix, minho and changbin, however, she was starting to regret her choices as felix screeched loudly after changbin kissed him on the cheek.

everything seemed at peace near the han river, so she felt a little apologetic towards the bystanders that had to listen to felix’ freak out… at least it would be nice content for the show… and at least felix got the kiss he wanted.

💌

things weren't exactly going smoothly that day.

even after practicing so hard, felix was criticized, minho got the lyrics wrong and she once again received a jab for not being hungry for lines.

it was almost like jyp didn't know what he wanted from her.

it was a big deal already, a girl in a boygroup? it sounded so weird, not exactly being the loved cookie cutter format the industry had since the 90s, now, jyp didn't want her to steal all the spotlight, yet he wanted her to stand out just enough, and she didn't seem to know how much was enough.

the day had been rough, and she was already so frustrated, so, the moment it was announced minho would be eliminated, she couldn't stop her tears as she hugged him tight.

minho tried to calm her down as he always did before, wiping away her tears and patting her head, all that while trying to keep the smile on his face.

that made her cry harder

💌

after minho left, everything felt weird, wrong. they still practiced, mimi still called her parents every night and skyped them to see the cats running around and to see her mother's comforting smile, she still bought her usual snacks from the convenience store near the training center. the group even went on a vacation with the program, where she had a lot of fun.

but that felt hollow, weird, as if a big part of it was missing.

and it was.

she could feel her hands shake as soon as the video message minho made started playing, she held changbin's hand as she stood beside him, already feeling her throat close, eyes watering as her turn approached

“mimi-yah” minho said in the video “i bet you're already crying, right? you've always been a little baby about those things”

she felt herself smile alongside him, but both their smiles were still sad

“oppa is so sorry” minho said quietly “please don't blame yourself too much, you're doing so well and you have to keep up the good work, okay?”

she felt the tears running down her face as she kneeled down to the floor with a choked sob, changbin rubbing her back lightly.

“don't forget to tell me if anyone is being mean to you, okay?” she looked up at the screen as if he could see her right now “oppa is the only one allowed to be mean to you”

she couldn't pay more attention after that, she just covered her face with her yellow hoodie and tried to calm down, cursing lee minho for making her miss him too much.

💌

during the battle with the yg trainees, mimi was feeling better.

she still missed minho, and it still felt weird to train without him, but it wasn't like they didn't text every night anyways.

she had trained very hard with all of the boys, finally feeling confident after jyp let her be a part of the  vocal team and be a part of the group performance.

it was the first time her compliments came without any stab in the back, so she felt good about it.

“i'm mimi!” she smiled as she introduced herself to yg himself.

“a girl in your boygroup?” he asked jyp “that's bold”

she nodded as he looked back at her

“mimi, are you not from here?” he looked at her file, seeing the long name written down in hangul

“i'm from brazil, sir, but i moved eight years ago”

“have you trained in jyp for eight years?”

“no sir, i trained at sm for four years before moving to jyp” she answered, a small smile still on her face. she wanted to look confident, even if her hands felt clammy

after that exchange and yg's comment of hoping their future in the group wasn't like the song, they performed and mimi felt completely comfortable for the first time that day.

💌

after getting complimented so much by yang hyunsuk(from her stable vocals to her charm and her combined adlib with woojin, she could feel herself fill up with pride every time she remembered those compliments) himself, mimi could tell jyp was finally gonna let her off the hook for a bit, even so, she knew she shouldn't get too comfortable.

so, as they sat down waiting for him, she hit her false nails against the table, chatting with jisung and trying to distract herself

💌

brunch with their boss ended up being just fine, the food was nice, they read their letters and she allowed herself to eat more than she usually did.

however, she felt a little sick the moment they were reminded of the mission

“this time, it will be busking” jyp announced and she held her fork with more force so it wouldn't fall and hit the table.

they hadn't performed like that before, and she could feel them all tense up a bit as they thought about doing it.

💌

as they all trained for the mission, mimi couldn't help but worry about felix the most.

he had quickly become one of her best friends in the time they spent together, and she knew he was such a hard worker.

she worried that he would start doubting himself, and overwork himself, so, even though she wanted to be there with him, she settled for at least texting him and making sure he was treating himself fairly

💌

the night of the busking event, mimi took the mic with a big smile on her face as she helped with mcing, she kept the smile on even as the boys talked, ignoring the blaring sirens going in her head and the pain in her stomach she felt as she got more nervous.

she just had to hold it in until it was over.

💌

“everyone!” she exclaimed, her smile growing as she heard people cheering her, calling her name and yelling how pretty she was “was today fun?” she heard them screaming yes “we're so glad you all are enjoying our performance as much as we are enjoying to perform to you!”

chan then kept up with the ment until the show was over

💌

mimi was criticized after the busking event, though not was roughly as some of her group mates.

her vocals weren't her best because of how nervous she was, and she made minor mistakes because of it. but she would be fine, at least her position would.

💌

when she heard jyp saying felix wouldn't continue with them, she felt her world shatter as the worst case scenario happened again.

mimi couldn't believe this.

she felt felix, who was next to her, turn on his back, not wanting them to see him wiping his tears.

she wanted to curse jyp, call him all the ugly curse words she knew in portuguese, slap some sense into him.

but she couldn't, so she settled with crying and hugging felix as hard as she could, saying sorry over and over again as everyone cried, feeling lost.

as she back hugged him, he turned around to hug her back, telling her not to feel sorry towards him, whispering that he was the one that was sorry instead, that he should have listened to her advice.

as jisung joined in on their hug, the duo cried harder, both bawling their eyes out.

after a moment, jisung started pulling her away, telling her to let him talk to chan, and she proceeded to cry on jisung's chest, something she found herself doing more and more often after the show started.

💌

mimi was feeling out of the loop for a few days and she felt sorry to the boys for it, though she wasn't the only one.

it felt weird going from ten to nine, and from nine to eight. it felt wrong.

they were still not over minho leaving, now felix was gone too.

mimi was never the most religious, though her mother was a devout catholic, but she prayed every night that whoever was out there, if there was someone, that if they could, they would bring them back to the group

💌

the moment felix and minho walked back into the practice room, mimi felt her heart fill up, like some sort of balloon filling up with helium and going up to the sky.

she giggled as they walked in and as things felt completely right for the first time in a while.

💌

alongside the burden of debuting, mimi would also be dealing with the burden of being the only girl in the group. it wasn't like she hadn't read the headlines, a lot of people didn't want her there, calling her a little whore, claiming horrible things about her.

she knew she had to prove them wrong, as soon as possible.

💌

“stray kids will debut as 10”

mimi's ears were ringing, she could hear the crowd start cheering as the words left jyp, becoming some sort of mantra in her head as she repeated them to herself, minho and felix ran towards them and she felt herself being engulfed by her best friends, her group mates. she felt her throat close as her eyes filled with tears, even if she tried to hold back her tears, she knew that the moment she looked up at one of the boys, she would start bawling like a little kid.

that was exactly what happened.

she looked up and locked eyes with felix, her best friend, and the one person she felt the most apologetic for, and she felt her tears running down as he wiped them, she looked beside him and saw all of the other boys.

mimi looked up at her nine groupmates, at the people she cared the most about, and she felt like things would be okay.

[convenientalias]

For the crossover ask meme: Marco Polo and Swordspoint (because they both need more love)

A crossover ship I’d dig: Oh dear, I’d ship Richard St. Vier with so many people.

So, first of all, I think I’d probably ship him with Khutulun bc they’re both fighters and he might even be able to beat Khutulun (though I’m not sure of that). I don’t know if Khutulun would approve of his profession because I think the twisted Swordspoint rules of dueling would probably piss her off (they’re kind of shady) but she’d definitely be impressed by his skills. And I just think they might easily hook up. (And of course keep their relationship or affair secret forever.)

Then I’d also ship him with Mei Lin. Somehow they’d both get pulled into the same plot and they’d both be really frustrated with the political scheming they’d been pulled into. Then... I can picture them getting together in a variety of ways. Some rich patron who Mei Lin is currently working for (?) tells her to service St. Vier as a reward for him (which he’d probably be pretty eh about), and they end up getting together after this with mutual animosity towards her current patron, whom they may or may not end up killing. Or, Mei Lin gets sent to kill St. Vier to get him out of the way, but he ends up beating her or she ends up deciding not to kill him at the last moment, and she tells him who sent her--and again, they end up teaming against the guy she’s working for. I just see this being a ship with politics and murder ya know.

I’d also ship St. Vier with Marco Polo. Marco has finally run away from Kublai’s court! He’s now kind of a stray on the run, and somehow ends up in Riverside, an odd corner of the Khan’s empire. St. Vier ends up taking him in much like he took in Alec, though Marco is somewhat less of a wild card and at the same time somewhat more restless and likely to leave to go on the run again. Anyways they carry on with an affair for a while until Marco hears about some major political event and decides he must return to Kublai. This is probably a bad idea bc you don’t just run away from an emperor and then return with no consequences, but St. Vier isn’t a guy to stop his lover from making their own decisions, and he lets Marco return, though not without some regrets.

I would also ship St. Vier with Jingim. They meet at court (I guess in this AU, Cambulac has the same weird dueling laws as the city in Swordspoint) and Jingim respects his swordsfighting skills but has little interest in him bc they’re just not on the same social stratum. Then one day St. Vier gets hired to fight Jingim. I can’t picture him doing this of his own accord (he knows better than to challenge the Khan’s son and heir) so he’s probably been blackmailed somehow, as in the Alec getting kidnapped situation. A very fierce duel follows, and somehow both survive, but just barely. Later on... they hook up?? Idk I just want this to happen.

The pattern here is that I want all my faves to hook up with St. Vier basically lols.

More below the cut!

A crossover BroTP I’d dig: Oh dear, I used up a lot of combinations in the ship section. Well, any of the above I’d enjoy as BroTPs as well as OTPs. But also, consider: Vincent Applethorpe & Hundred Eyes.

Hundred Eyes does not consider the modern conventions of dueling as honorable-- he does not approve of the customs current in Cambulac. However, he is incredibly good at both martial arts and swordsfighting, and back in the day he was renowned among duelers. Of course, since he works for Kublai (and before that, lived off in a lonely village doing his own thing), no professional duelist has tried to learn from him. But if only they could....

So Vincent Applethorpe has heard of the legend, but he never thought he’d actually meet Hundred Eyes. Then one day, a strange young man comes to Applethorpe’s school--Marco Polo. Applethorpe doesn’t recognize him right away and begins to teach him, finding he does have the money to pay at least. It’s only weeks later that he finds out that Marco Polo is the Khan’s guest, when Hundred Eyes shows up at the school to scold Marco for coming to learn from someone other than him. Marco insists that he wasn’t learning well from Hundred Eyes, wasn’t learning fast enough--and Hundred Eyes is teaching him how to fight in self defense or in battle but not so much how to duel, and Marco is worried that someone might challenge him soon. He’s becoming rapidly involved in court politics, and he’s seen how that ends for some people.

Anyways Hundred Eyes reads Marco the riot act, but he’s actually somewhat impressed by Applethorpe. He and Applethorpe do a little sparring, and he reluctantly says that if Marco wants to learn from Applethorpe as well as Hundred Eyes that’s fine; only Hundred Eyes will sometimes come and sit in on their sessions. Applethorpe is completely over the moon at this bc again, Hundred Eyes is a fuckign LEGEND.

They become bros.

A crossover Frenemies I think would be inevitable: Ahmad and Alec.

No matter how I form this crossover, I can’t really picture Alec being a native noble in Cambulac; he’s too “Latin”. So in this AU, he’s sort of a traveling scholar. He’s known to be a noble from [insert country name here] and Kublai has invited him to stay in Cambulac. “Invited” him in more or less the same way he “invited” Marco. Alec’s stuck in Cambulac and can’t leave, and he’s kind of grumpy about it, and he’s still a rude, capricious wild card. No one has any idea why Kublai keeps him around and hasn’t yet executed him for his presumption. Especially not Ahmad. (And also Jingim but I’ll get there later.)

Ahmad and Alec have a tendency to make catty comments at each other and they probably shouldn’t be left in the same room. However, they also for some reason enjoy each other’s company. They like playing games together and sharing rumors they’ve heard (though always keeping their own secrets), recognize that they are both kind of treacherous, and generally have a lot of fun. I feel like at some point they may have a threesome with Mei Lin, or just hook up. (....somehow I’ve continued to just keep on shipping things.) Also, Ahmad kind of empathizes with Alec as another of the Khan’s strays--more than he empathizes with Marco in the show, bc while Alec is whiny he’s also just really fun, and also isn’t directly getting in the way of Ahmad’s plans bc he’s not really politically involved, he’s just There.

A crossover badass duo I think would be inevitable: See the shipping section.

Lols but really, can you even picture St. Vier and Mei Lin taking down one of Mei Lin’s patrons (possibly Ahmad? or Jia Sidao?), or. Oh my God. What if. The reason St. Vier challenged Jingim is because Ahmad had kidnapped Alec--Ahmad had ample opportunity for this bc see above, he and Alec are best frenemies. Don’t ask why Ahmad wanted to get Jingim murdered; he had his reasons. Now St. Vier and Jingim must take on Ahmad together, but Ahmad isn’t such a fool as to let Alec go after the duel failed to kill either of them, so the situation is very tricky.

This is an imperfect scenario, however, bc it’s very straightforward for Ahmad. If not Ahmad, maybe the kidnapper was Kaidu? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

A crossover animosity I think would be inevitable: ALEC AND JINGIM.

Why do Alec and Jingim hate each other? Let me count the ways.

First of all, Jingim dislikes that his father keeps on getting new favorites rather than focusing on him. And what did Alec do to deserve his current status as honored guest in Cambulac? Literally nothing! I mean, maybe he’s a decent scholar, but he’s not THAT amazing. In fact, I bet he was rude to Kublai when they first met in hopes that Kublai would kill him. (Unfortunately, Kublai had already heard about Alec and knew he was suicidal, and so could see through this motivation easily, and has been refusing to kill him partly bc he doesn’t like being manipulated into these things.) Jingim just does not understand why Kublai grants Alec so much leeway and spends so much time with him when Alec is a complete bitch!

And then there’s the fact that Alec is also friends with Ahmad. Jingim has always wanted to be closer to his two brothers, but with Ahmad... it’s like there’s a wall there. Sometimes he feels like they’re close, and sometimes he feels like they’re far apart, despite being raised together. Yet even when Alec and Ahmad fight, they clearly get each other in ways that Jingim does not understand.

Why does Alec hate Jingim? Partly just bc he’s the son of the guy who’s holding prisoner (excuse me, guest) in Cambulac. Partly bc he’s kind of stiff and formal, and has been pissed at Alec’s rudeness since Day One. And partly bc St. Vier is into Jingim and Alec knows it. Idk if they’ve hooked up yet or not (I’m really unsure on the chronology of all these ships) but at the very least, St. Vier always has positive things to say about Jingim and is oddly deferential towards him, more than he tends to be towards a noble. Alec is completely certain that if Jingim took up with St. Vier, St. Vier would drop Alec in a heartbeat. Bc Jingim is better than Alec. He’s a noble who actually does his job, he’s incredibly good looking, and he doesn’t get into all the trouble that Alec does. So Alec’s kind of paranoid about that. Even if it doesn’t seem likely that Jingim WILL start an affair with St. Vier anytime soon (Jingim has his wives, and he’s only somewhat interested in St. Vier, and St. Vier is a little wary of starting an affair with the Khan’s son), it doesn’t matter. As long as Alec knows (or thinks he knows) that St. Vier would prefer to be with Jingim over Alec, he will always hate Jingim.

So. Jingim and Alec hate each other. And yet the sexual tension there is very strong.

Anyways. I didn’t think I’d have this many feelings on this crossover but I’m into it! Thanks for the ask.

[westcoastbroadway1443]

Be More Notes: my very long ramblings on BMC as I finally listen to the whole thing

Ok!  I’m finally doing it!  Now that the cast album is out I’m going to really give all of Be More Chill a listen, try to put the things that annoy me about the show aside, and give it a fair chance.  And have decided to do running commentary here for the nobody who gives a shit lol.  Going in I wanna say I’ve heard 4 full songs and random bits of other songs from the original soundtrack.  And I’ll be listening now to the OBC album plus watching a b**tlg, I’m not totally sure when it took place I just know Will Roland is in it so at the very least New York.  Keep in mind whatever I think of this show, if I end up hating it, if you like it you’re right.  My opinion in no way invalidated anybody else’s or is above anyone else’s in my eyes, frankly I don’t enjoy not liking things, it just means I don’t get to come to the party and that’s not fun.  So I might be poking fun at the show sometimes but if this speaks to you, that is fucking awesome!  Also I’m old now and I guess no longer the target audience for stuff like this.  

Spoilers for those who haven’t watched the show and don’t want to know stage stuff because I’ll be commenting on that.  This ended up being really long, eh.  

More Than Survive -ok this song I’ve heard before, and it both turned me off the show and also made me respect the hell out of it, because much like I give a salute to Black Mirror having the balls to make pig sex their pilot, I salute a musical that starts with jerking off -So far like Roland a little more than the previous guy.  From what I’ve gathered from clips, while that dude is hella talented and cute as a button I kind of buy Roland as a terrified, desperate, frustrated high school kid more   -Man I really do dig the hell out of the score and there is no denying this is catchy but some of these lyrics are so cringe -WHY IS A TEEN IN 2019 REFERENCING JOE PESCI?! -Ok I love the idea of a short bully calling somebody “tall ass” -I do like Jeremy’s body language better in this one. Also does he vocally remind anyone else of Max from Goofy Movie?  Maybe this song just reminds me  of “After Today” for no reason. -“super pimp” “mac daddy game”....OK!  I’m going to try not to list every time I cringe.  I just have questions -You don’t  want to be Clooney...high school child in 2019 is Clooney really your reference for cool?  Sorry I just struggle with this stuff because I keep hearing how this show is so in touch with kids these days but I just see:

-lol Michael came on and people went apseshit in the audience.  All my nitpicks aside I bet this room probably has some great energy. -..Michael the clerk at 7/11 doesn’t pour your slushie, it’s self serve.  Are you trying to seem cool to Jeremy right now? -Aah the boyfriend backpacks.  I know of this ship -Yeah Christine brings the flutes!!!  I was a flute player, we never get love -HAHA when Christine is doing her weird ass dance, in the recording I’m watching somebody right in front of the person recording just went “I don’t get this show”.  Like me too darlin, but you got 2 hours left so suck it up -Oh but sir, check the playbill.  The story is indeed about you -in summation this song kind of encapsulates everything I feel about this show, good performances and catchy as fuck and musically interesting and a lot of me asking “why”.

Play Rehearsal   -Well Christine is adorable -wow wait what?  wtf was that weird self harm comment???  Are we just gonna skip that??? -Ok I was a band kid in HS so I guess I don’t get this level of extra.  Band rehearsal is just tuning and then fucking around until somebody makes you play Bach -...is Christine ok??? -Ok I think at least for now I may hate her.  But I like that Jeremy likes her, likes her passion and such.  I approve of her conceptually!  I just don’t wanna be around her -I thought play rehearsal was gay, Rich?!  WHAT YOU DOIN AT PLAY REHEARSAL RICH?! -...I mean I’ve seen Romeo and Juliet as a zombie wasteland movie, I would watch Midsummer zombies

More Than Survive Reprise -”least I didn’t have a breakdown and have to go the nurse” Ok fair, I can relate to that high school experience -this set is kind of working for me, basic but fun and the floor is neat -I know high school bullies are a thing I guess? But I always just saw them in movies?  Now Middle School bullies were legit and terrible and I got the shit kicked out of me, but by HS I feel like everybody was too into their own shit to care much about anyone else??  Maybe that was just my school -Will Roland’s body language is real good in this show

The Squip Song -Oh!  Surprise Rich lisp. Creative way to show how this thing alters you -..ok now we know about Rich’s dick size.  I mean hon your short, maybe your penis is just proportionate?   -DO I DETECT SOME THEREMIN IN THIS ORCHESTRATION?!   Gimme all the theremin!   -Ok so the squip made him be an asshole?  Does he secretly want to be buddies with Jeremy? -Ok what the fuck are the people in the background doing here?!? -I know people ship Michael and Jeremy but I feel like Rich kinda wants to jump that tall ass??

Two Player Game -Ok the little sign for the game that came up was cute -These guys are kinda cute, even if I wish they’d tone down Michael’s “I’M QUIRKY!!  YOU GET IT?!?” shtick -That is accurate!  Y’all will be cool in college and I don’t see that brought up often -This is the first time I’ve found the choreography fun   -...why is this dad allergic to pants?? -ah.  Depression=no pants.  And now I get why Jeremy’s so desperate not to stay as he is.  Well points for making it not just about the girl -awww Michael is his bae -bro I’ve heard Loser Geek Whatever, you’re tellin lies right now to your buddy -LOL!  WTF IS THIS WINDOWS SCREENSAVER OF A VIDEO GAME?!? -oh wow dancin went off the rails here at the end

Squip Enters -Mountain Dew?  Well, better than Surge I guess.   -Ok the Ecto Cooler line legit made me laugh.  And I guess I could come down on the show for making Michael psyched about a drink that came out before he was born, but I have a pretty intense Crystal Pepsi obsession and that shit came out when I was maybe 4?  So I get it Michael, you go enjoy your liquid ghosts -well that squip thing doesn’t look fun -Oooooh Ok Keanu is like factory setting, alright I’ll accept this.  Though I will say this show would be 35% better if he was dressed like Keanu from Bill and Ted

Be More Chill Prt 1 -Hey stop shitting on Jeremy.  I think I kinda like him -wow Keanu, I didn’t think you’d be so mean -I mean everyone chanting “everything about you sucks” is just how peeps with anxiety feel constantly.  Eminem shirt ain’t gonna fix that -”Jerry-me” ok Will Roland is kind of making this work for me.   -Him repeating everything the squip said is a fun little sequence.  Like I dig this conceptually, scifi musicals are rare and can be neat - Lol the hate who they hate thing is pretty accurate

Do You Wanna Ride? -hey Jeremy what about Christiiiiine

Be More Chill Part 2 -the beginning of this song broke me a little.  Hey!  I’m feelin a thing! -this song is pretty fun!  It works!   -though the cast of like 10 people that just keep putting on different wigs make it feel like a high school play or a starkid production

Sync Up -ok so now I know I’m watching previews?  Because sync up isn’t here -I do think this song is a really good addition.  I mean it’s not like a stand out fantastic song but it does a good job getting across the themes and drives home the whole “everybody has problems” thing too which I like -Ok..dairy line was weird.  

A Guy I Could Kinda Be Into -Ok the weird girl fighting stuff about Jake is unpleasant and sort of unnecessary -a squip gives you a deep voice and the ability to kinda do accents.  Cool -ooo this is catchy, this is gonna make the spotify playlist -the goofy background hearts are cute.  I still don’t know why she’s into Jake or why she’s friends with Jeremy or if they should be together since legit the only thing she thinks they have in common is theater which he doesn’t care about..but this song is still cute -lol squips understand friend zone

Upgrade -DID THIS SHOW JUST KILL EMINEM?! -How did the squip know that?!  Does Eminem have a squip??  I mean it kinda makes sense.. -Don’t you see Jerbear?! The key to popularity is in this girl’s vagina!  Happy they cut the “I’ll tenderly guide you just take me inside you” thing, little creepy -Why did Jake make a kicking motion to illustrate cricket?  I’m like 85% sure Jake doesn’t know what cricket is... -the “feel all the feels” like is a little goofy but I really like the rewrite for this song, showing some depth of character.  Good job, show!  And I’m seeing some chemistry between these two, but I don’t know if I’m meant to? -Oh no!  The whole “you looked at me” thing from Brooke was so sweet and sad.  And the player two thing.  Yeah this OG version of this song can go fuck off, the rewrite is a really good tune.  I’ll admit the original maybe built up the horror a little, the squip sounds more threatening coming in at the end but I like where there going making this about everyone and not just Jeremy

Loser Geek Whatever -Squip blocked Michael??  You’re a dick, Keanu Reeves -I didn’t love this song when I first heard the single but hearing the version on the album and the stripped down piano version, I really really like it.  Gives me some of those old geek feels from back in the day -sort of surprise by how little is happening on stage though?  I sort of assumed something was happening as the song built?  But nope, just Will rocking his wee heart out -LOL!  What is Squip’s new outfit???

Halloween -Ah, it’s this show Big Fun.  This is a lot catchier than Big Fun though -I went to exactly one of these kinds of parties in HS, just replace Halloween with punks after a rock show and add a lot more drugs.  I didn’t hide in a bathroom but I did hide next to the stairs until my mom came and got me.  Memories!!  You know what this show is succeeding I suppose, it’s making me have HS feels -...is Jake dressed as Thomas Jefferson? -Jenna you’re too cute for that costume.  You should get to wear something sexy too!  Unless you just dig clowns in which case enjoy yourself hon -Ooooooh Prince, I get it -this is not this show’s fault at all but I struggle with dancing in shows.  I mean the title of my blog is The Girl Who Used to Hate Musicals because I did, and while I love them now extended dancing sequences still take me out of a show real fast.  I know I’m in the minority here -...what the fuck is that weird fuzzy thing with the big teeth -Hot damn!  Go Rich!  Dancin fool

Do You Wanna Hang? -I don’t like any part of this plot line... -Ok!  Didn’t realized she was dressed like a “sexy baby” so the diaper line sort of horrified me.  I mean it still does!  I just understand it now

Michael in the Bathroom -hey the bathtub!  Ok I know enough to know what happens now -Jeremy why you gotta be so mean -I mean what is there to say, great song.  I wondered if they’d change anything for the new recording and I dig the arrangement, especially the stripped down acoustic guitar and piano parts!! Also as a lady who maybe once or twice since discovering this song has gotten tipsy and sung it karaoke-like, appreciate the slower and the higher.  It’s not a lot, just a bit, but makes it less of a struggle to match.  Thanks bro!

A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into (Reprise) -Finally!  They’re both giant doofs but I see some connection!  And I mean my roommate and I have noises we always make at each other like a call and response, so I gets it -He asked it!  So proud.  Rejected but proud of the boy, and rejected for good reasons

The Smartphone Hour -Heard part of this song before.  Really like this Jenna more than original Jenna, her performance was a little much for me -This is one of those songs where I really do feel like I’m watching a HS original production..but a good one?  Maybe cause I haven’t seen something like this on Broadway, but that’s a good thing.  Always good to see new kinds of things on Broadway -lol what is the middle of this song?!  I feel like I’m suddenly watching a cheer squad or like a John Waters inspired musical, which from what little I know of Joe Iconis I think he’d be cool with that comparison

The Pants Song -Jeremy don’t be mean to your dad! -Yipes is this the Break in a Glove or Dead Gay Son of BMC?? -....yeah it totally is -”Do you love him??” Has Jeremy’s dad finally given up on finding a girl in Jeremy’s room? -Ok ok I’m gettin the ship

The Pitiful Children -So squip just looks like this now, I thought maybe he was just being fancy for Halloween -Hot damn Jenna!  Why were we savin that voice?! -I feel like I’m missing something with these weird hand motions the squip is always, do they actually mean something? -goosestepping...alright.  Oh no Jeremy did the hand motions, I think that means a thing

The Play -Jeremy is being so creepy but he means well?  I guess?   -lol using the play to spread the squips is pretty clever -wtf red mountain dew?  Really?  You know what fuck it, discontinued drinks for the win.  Maybe my saved bottles of Crystal Pepsi will stop an apocalypse one day! -Michael’s entrance was cute, and hey he just happens to have code red.  I wish ecto cooler was what shut it off. -The glitching voice is crazy when Jeremy is fighting Michael and I love the way Jeremy is sort of bobbing up and down in fighting stance like a video game character,  Fun touch -squip is making Jeremy go all Idle Hands! -I prefer the recording version of the guys making up, the whole “I just wanted to be liked” “I just wanted to be seen” thing -the squip has to be so extra even in death

Voices in My Head -hey lispy Rich is back!  And bi now I guess? -Oh is that why people think Michael/Jeremy are a thing?  The squip blocked Rich’s bi thoughts from him and it blocked Michael from Jeremy’s vision?  I mean it would be an interesting story, I’d take it. -This might be my favorite song and I don’t really know why, I don’t super love that Jeremy still gets Christine in the end but I just love how this song sounds -I’ve never heard a character wearing pants get an applause? -improved lyrics in the Broadway version, and since it got more into the popular kids as people you can kinda see why they’d still stay friend with Jeremy -”I’ll throw you a rope home slice if you need some dope advice” like is this parody?  What is this??  Well..still my fav song despite this line.  A line they liked so much it’s the one original popular kid line they kept in the new version??? -don’t know if I see much future for these two, but Jeremy’s reaction to the kiss was cute -”Of the voices in my head the loudest one is mine” is my favorite line of the show -lol Rich’s little sneak hug.  I feel like Rich always wanted to be friends with Jeremy?  Or had a crush on him and that’s why his squip made him beat Jeremy up?  Is this pairing a thing?

Final thoughts:  This was so stupid long, nobody read this but that’s ok!  It was fun to take notes anyway.  Listening to it all, I liked it more than I thought I would, especially with the lyric changes.  I don’t know if I would like it as much if it wasn’t Will Roland, the dude just really made this character likable when he could very easily not be.  Some of the lines still bug me, there’s still a lot of cringe here but there’s also a lot of good stuff.  This show introduced me to Joe Iconis and I’m slowly falling in love with him from his other work and CANNOT WAIT for Broadway Bounty Hunter because that sounds so like my jam.  Overall I do get why people like this show, especially younger people because you can relate to the characters but maybe you want something a little peppier than DEH.   I don’t think this is a soundtrack I’m going to ever listen to all the way through, but I’m for sure grabbing a handful of songs and sticking them on my musical play list.  And when this thing goes on tour and ends up in LA, I think it would probably be worth checking out if I can, looks like a fun watch.  Though with all the young fans and internet fans if they’re smart they’re gonna record this bitch.