#it’s definitely making it to my regular meal rotation

[hiddenworldofmary]

i made japchae for the first time and i think i’m in love

[thebluestbluewords]

Important Auradon Prep dining hall facts from the Villain Kid’s book for new VKs 

The school has an ice cream sundae bar the last Friday of every month.  

Mal is a mint chip ice cream lover (this is very important to me personally, mint chip ice cream is delicious and doesn’t deserve any of the hate it gets, much like Mal herself…)

The school does Sunday brunch. As someone who went to a relatively fancy college that also did weekend brunch meals, this is somewhat confusing and distressing the first weekend when you go down at your expected breakfast hour and find NO food out yet. 

Bunch doesn’t start until noon….the VKs definitely learned this the hard way. 

Evie likes eggs Florentine- as well as everything else on the brunch list, which is delicious carbs. #leteviehavebread2k23 

Auradon Prep has pasta mondays…..every week? Once a month? No clear timeline on this one, but after working in a bunch of  different real-life dining hall kitchens, I know that it’s nice to have a set meal rotation, so pasta every Monday probably makes sense for a high school. 

Another important note here is that pasta night is ~fancy~ and they put out white tablecloths and dim the lights. Weird choice for a high school dining hall, but I guess when your student body is unimaginably rich and also likely confined to campus during the school term, you’ve got to make your own date opportunities. 

Side note: is there an Auradon Prep hierarchy of “good” date nights? Is being asked out to Monday pasta night like a basic, everyday-tier date? The enchanted lake is clearly where students go to have a romantic picnic and then hook up, but what other common school dates are there? Is brunch appropriately romantic? Does the dining hall let anyone request a picnic, or is that reserved for actual royalty? Many questions here. 

The funniest thing so far in the dining hall section of this book is the sample menu they have- WHO is feeding high school students escargot? Mussels? I guess they’re coastal enough to have fresh mussels on a somewhat regular basis because we do see them on a boat in D2…and like, they’re in relatively close proximity to the isle, which is In The Ocean, so I guess that part makes sense. But printed menus every night?? 

In my heart the printed menus are a sort of once-a-week special occasion thing. Maybe once a week they have fancy dinners where they’re all expected to eat nicely with the teachers, or with whatever visiting royal family is there to see their kids, or just to practice proper formal dinner etiquette. 

The Auradon Prep dining hall serves grill cheese with tomato slices in the middle. Jay is apparently a big fan of this. I’m only sad about this one because I have a scene 90% written where the dining hall is serving grilled cheese and tomato soup, and now for ~canon accuracy~ I’m going to have to edit that. 

[charlesandmartine]

Monday 14th October 2024

Theatre day today at the tiny Drama venue within the Sydney Opera complex, so after 18,000 steps yesterday walking to the Spit, we thought it prudent to take it easy this morning. Necessary as well as prudent because precipitation is definitely in sight, if not far away. Well this is Spring after all. The schools have gone back this morning after their holiday and suburbia, usually quiet anyway, has returned to the hallowed cloisters of the norm. It's true we did get the whiff of a small party/ bbq yesterday but the Aussies don't make a fuss. It's also true, it seems, that instead of making a mess at home, convocations gather on grassy places by the beach; impressive table networks, mass catering equipment and food galore sufficient for the 5,000 mystically appear with no outward concerns for shelter but usually under trees seeking protection from the sun rather than rain as would be the case in the UK. As we crossed Clontarf Beach yesterday there were many such groups each having a very jolly relaxing time, well practised as though a very regular activity was taking place. The local authority amenity BBQs were also being fully exercised.

So this morning it was a book in the modest garden and for some, the Archers on catch-up.

After an early lunchtime egg and ham sandwich we set off on the 173X to the City, first stop Museum of Contemporary Art on Circular Quay.

I have to say that I must be a lapsed Modern Art appreciator. The first exhibition we innocently submitted to was by a 74 year old Contemporary Australian artist, Julie Rrap who possibly for the security or anonymity it offered reversed her given name of Parr. Julie's work expresses her interest in images of the body, especially the female body, mainly as far as I could tell, hers. The big screen showed herself sitting naked on a very big sheet of white paper holding a camera in one hand and a big stick of charcoal in the other. The aim of the game was to rotate and draw around various parts, hands, feet, legs and the stunning result was a very large scribble in a sort of spirographic form. Well that was good wasn't it! On the way into the area was a little sign which said there was adult content and the establishment would not stand for any lude or provocative behaviour. Moving on we came across a sort of patio made up of small tiles which you were invited to trespass upon. All the while there is a kind of drilling noise, regular but in pulses. Somewhat perplexed about the image I was to take away, I enquired of the attendant what the meaning was of the noise. I agree she said, it's SO annoying, it's been going on all day. They are doing some work in the next room. Oh I said, it's nothing to do with the artwork then? No, she said with inflection, and looked at me like I was an idiot.

We would have left there and then but it was raining so we wandered around some other idiotic displays.

Contemporary Art and me are on different planets.

Then it was to an early dinner before the show. We dashed through the rain to a very nearly closed food hall between the IBM office and Woolworths. Saving an Indian meal or two from a night in the bin, we secured two Rogan Josh and Chicken Tikka plates with nan bread, which was filling if nothing else. Sadly, due to the viscosity of the sauce and my careless eating habits, I ended up sharing memories of the meal encoded within the fabric of my shorts with my fellow theatre goers at the Sydney Opera House!

The billing for Julia said this 'In 2012, Australia's first female prime minister, Julia Gillard, gave a speech that sent shockwaves around the world'. Justine Clarke plays Julia Gillard in a powerful monologue representation of her premiership but starting her story from her early beginnings in Barry, South Wales. The influences of her mining roots, the stories of the 1960 disaster at Six Bells colliery, the 1966 tragic loss at Aberfan shaped her thinking for justice. Moving to Adelaide in 1966 as £10 poms, she determined to study law. The play builds us to the speech on 9th October 2012 when in parliament and as PM she has to both condemn the actions of the Speaker of the House, Peter Slipper, for making sexist, misogynistic comments in a text message, whilst ensuring that her position remained firm in a minority government. She was being attacked by the the leader of the opposition party in a no confidence motion by, Tony Abbott. The speech that sent shockwaves around the world turned the tables on Abbott, pointing the finger at multiple examples of hypocrisy, sexism and misogyny by Abbott himself! Brilliant play, brilliant performance by Justine and incredibly interesting subject even to someone from the Motherland. As she donned the red wig and slipped into the power jacket, Justine became Julia and boomed out the acclaimed speech. She took a standing ovation from all corners of the stalls.

Ferry back to Manly, then with 30 minutes to spare we thought how nice it would be to finish a great day out with a small beer in the Bavarian. Quarter past nine it was, sorry we are now closed they said, it's Monday! Wow, you Australians sure know how to party! Same for all the other pubs in town!

ps. Mince pies seen in Coles!

[plutobutartsy]

You Mentioned OCs. (np)

oh di i'm so excited you asked about them i'm actually jumping up and down rn bc like,,, i've had these two for YEARS, i rotate them in my mind every single day and with all the media i consume i always think ok but what if the protagonists were ACTUALLY my ocs like i'm so mentally ill about them

their names are Briar and Evelyn (Evie for short) and they're both so silly and so disgustingly in love, think vincent and lovely but ten times worse

also this got like REALLY long so don't feel obligated to read it all lol

let's start with my boy Briar

his name frequently gets mistaken for Brian and it makes him so irrationally angry lol

he's a born vampire! so no old man activities this boy is like 17 as of now

he's the one who knows how to cook! he makes food for others as a love language

also fun fact there's like an actual vampire cuisine in this universe so vampires can consume food that's not just blood and still get nutritional value out of it

his family are part of the older vampire generation technically? what i mean is his family have been vampires for a few centuries now so they're kinda rich and well known

that said, his parents are for sure around 80-100 but him and his sisters are young!

as i've said he's only around 17 and he's the youngest out of his siblings

he has 3 older sisters (20ish, 24 and 28) and they're all very protective of him because omg!!!! that's their baby brother!!!

sometimes too protective to the point where they underestimate him and make him feel bad,,, woops!

he still really looks up to them and puts them on a bit of a pedestal, making him an overachieving perfectionist while he strives to get to what he assumes is their level

spoiler alert this results in a lot of angst and him not feeling good enough despite his parents and sisters never really pressureing him to do anything

he definitely tries to hide his insecurity by overcompensating and acting more arrogant than he is but his friends can read him like a book lol

"i had this leftover because i made too much on accident, eat it so i don't feel bad about being wasteful. honestly you should feel honored to be allowed to taste my cooking" translation: "you seemed stressed so i made you your favourite meal but please don't bring it up or i'll die. hope you like it ^-^"

terrified of bugs which is unfortunate since his 3rd sister loves them and keeps them as pets

when i said overachiever i meant it. student body president. excels in most sports. top grades.

he has to be perfect or he will literally die (real) (not fake)

oh he's also scared of dogs and he's very pathetic about it. i'm talking he sees a tiny puppy and he crosses to the other side of the street.

works at a convenience store because he doesn't want to end up being a spoilt rich brat stereotype lol the old ladies at check out love him because he always offers to carry their bags to their car for them

tries to act all serious and grown up when he's around his sisters to impress them but it's a lost cause

he's a complete sweetheart please tell him he's doing a good job and watch trashy dramas and reality tv with him

okie Evie time :3

she's a witch!! wohoo magic

she has like a billion siblings

jk just 5 but still

all of them are adopted and a different magical being (for example her older brother is a werewolf) simply because i think it's funny

listen hear me out: her dad is like fucking bruce wayne, adopting kids left and right, but he's just a regular schmegular human so i think it's hilarious that he adopts a new kid and he's all like "oh great they're just human phew no stress for me"

just to find out that no, this child is in fact NOT human, and on top of that they're an entirely different species than the rest of his kids so he has to learn about their specific needs and quirks and whatnot all over again

listen it's hilarious

okay anyways

evie stress bakes!! so she always has new stuff to give to others because WOW girl you're stressed beyond measure

brought 5 loafes of bread to school once to give to her friends. "thanks but you already gave me 2 yesterday my family really can't eat all of that :(" "girl PLEASE you have to help me i have 12 more at home and my dad is fucking PISSED he told me to get rid of them immediately."

if Briar needs to be perfect or else he will die, then Evelyn needs everyone to like her or she will die

she's honestly a bit of a pushover because of that but she's working on it and has made great progress (therapy queen)

fashion lover and lover of cute things

her outfits look like a claire's threw up on her

her magic manifested when she was like 5 when she got into a fight with her brother and she just. launched his ass into the sky lol

that accident broke his leg and made her resent her powers for a bit

like she wanted nothing to do with them and straight up refused to go to a school where she would learn about them. her dad was so worried because suppressing magic longterm makes you actually sick

that is until a friend of her dad explained to her that learning to control her powers would help her prevent any more accidents

that friend is called Makena and we love her! she's a witch as well and ended up giving Evie private lessons and also helped Evie's dad with learning about magic and how to care for non-human kids

at first Evelyn rly sucked at magic like REALLY sucked at magic and she was like, are you serious this is ASS

but she was just a slow learner and is really good now :)

works at Makena's cafe in an effort to help with her social skills

i have drawings of these two somewhere but it's been a while so i can't fund them 😭

[adventures-with-aspen]

Aspen threw up about an hour ago, after a month of regular eating. It’s just hunger pukes; but, it feels so random at this point. It makes me so anxious every time that I feel like I could cry. My thoughts swing between There is something wrong with him internally to He’s just holding out on eating to see how much toppers/treats he can wring out of me and He’s picking up on your own anxiety around mealtime and that’s why he’s not eating to He’s self-regulating; a healthy dog won’t starve themselves

This morning I was feeling lazy so we didn’t start our morning walk until 7:00AM. By 7:15, he was try to eat grass, and he pukes at 7:28AM. I feel like there is a connection between me not getting out of bed and out the door, my laziness, and his morning pukes.

Yesterday, he had .5 cup of kibble at breakfast @ 7:30AM, then about a cup of kibble out of a Kong + two whole frozen carrots around 1PM, and another .5 cup of kibble around 8:30PM. (Which is unusually late for dinner but he wasn’t interested when I put it down @ 7PM). It was super cold and his metabolism was definitely higher!

I stopped giving him pumpkin and salmon oil with his meals about 6 months ago and continued adding warm water to every meal. That’s helped. I trying to keep him on a feeding schedule of 7AM/1PM snack/7PM because I don’t love the idea of free-feeding for my own sanity. That’s helped. We tried feeding his morning meal out of enrichment toys in order to engage his brain and make him want to eat. That’s helped the most. I’m not 100% sure if this connection, but he usually won’t eat breakfast unless he’s fully pottied during our morning walk.

I can’t bring myself to fully commit to putting the food down for 20 minutes, picking it up, and not offering anything else until the next meal. Occasionally I’ll try to spur his appetite with more running or hide-and-seek type food game. But that only goes so far. I figured out that he needs to eat something every 7-8 hrs. I haven’t tried FortiFlora yet—it’s sitting in the autoship and every time I’m like, But he’s been fine this last month. I have added wet food formula back into the rotation. For financial reasons, I was hoping to keep it to 1 can per week. Right now he’s eating Purina Pro Plan Sport 30/20, Salmon & Cod formula.

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! The search for plant-based protein options led me to an actual vegetarian food stall which serves unpolished rice congee, so I tried it. There were goji berries scattered amongst the grains, topped with a crunchy something or other (really nice when everything is mixed together). This was actually VERY delicious; I'll definitely return and order it again. Along with the congee, I had tau kwa (firm tofu), stirfried cabbage, vegetarian duck and soya bean drink.

Pa enjoyed lunch at the vegetarian restaurant we visited in the last post so much, he asked to dine together again. This time, I took him to a vegan restaurant where we shared 2 appetisers (tofu scramble and Waldorf salad) and 2 main dishes (Kungpo tofu and mapo tofu). The appetisers were ok and the Kungpo tofu was divine, but the mapo tofu wasn't nice at all. Overall, the meal was still good and we explored a new restaurant, which was fun! After that, I introduced Pa to the new coffee chain in our country.

Encouraged by how good I feel after including some plant proteins when I dine out, I thought of how to rotate them with seafood, fish, eggs and meat for meals at home. So, I bought tau kwa and falafels. They should pair well with congee and soup noodles with veggies for breakfast or dinner. 1 downside: I have to eat more, otherwise my weight can plunge by up to half a kilo a day if what I eat leans more heavily towards plant protein. This is my headache; I'm trying to figure out how much to eat and when to eat so as not to lose weight.

Of course, this doesn't mean I'll totally give up fish and seafood. Har cheong fun (shrimp rice rolls) are delicious for breakfast and I'll always love steamed fish with veggies and congee or rice, or fish soup noodles (sometimes with an egg). Let's get real though, plant proteins make me feel good and Pa hopes I'll make them a part of my regular meals. If I can somehow work tau kwa and falafels into breakfasts or dinners at home, you may see fewer plant proteins when I dine out, since they will be rotated together with seafood, fish, eggs and meat when I cook at home. In the next post, I'll update about how those falafels taste!

We're into a brand new week; there's a catch up with SW that I'm looking forward to. Also, I'll take Pa out for a meal because he enjoys it very much. When life moves at such a hectic pace, slowing down and cherishing simple pleasures is balm for the soul. The pandemic taught me something - what matters isn't travel, designer labels, luxury hotels or restaurants; it's health, it's the people we love - and I won't ever forget it. 下次见!

[mygreekdelights]

Health Benefits of Greek Ice Tea: A Closer Look

When it comes to beverages that are both refreshing and healthy, Greek ice tea should definitely be on your list. This delicious drink is made from a combination of fresh herbs, such as sage, chamomile, and rosemary, and is traditionally served cold over ice. Not only is Greek ice tea a delicious way to quench your thirst but it is also packed with numerous health benefits. In this article, we take a closer look at the health benefits of Greek ice tea, and why you should consider adding it to your regular beverage rotation.

One notable provider of authentic Greek ice tea is My Greek Delights, a family-owned business that specializes in traditional Greek food and beverages. Their Greek ice tea is made with a unique blend of herbs and is 100% natural, making it a healthy and refreshing option for any occasion.

One of the main benefits of Greek ice tea is its high antioxidant content. The herbs used in the tea, such as sage and rosemary, contain powerful antioxidants that can help protect your body from oxidative stress caused by free radicals. Antioxidants have been linked to a reduced risk of chronic diseases such as cancer, heart disease, and Alzheimer's disease.

Another benefit of Greek ice tea is its ability to improve digestion. Many of the herbs used in Greek ice tea, such as chamomile, have been traditionally used to treat digestive issues such as bloating, indigestion, and constipation. Drinking Greek ice tea after a meal can help soothe the digestive system and promote healthy bowel movements.

Greek ice tea has also been found to have anti-inflammatory properties. Inflammation is a natural response of the body to injury or infection, but chronic inflammation has been linked to numerous health problems. The herbs used in Greek ice tea, such as thyme and oregano, contain anti-inflammatory compounds that can help reduce inflammation in the body.

In addition to its health benefits, Greek ice tea is also a refreshing and delicious beverage that can be enjoyed all year round. It is a popular drink in Greece, where it is often served in cafes and restaurants as a refreshing alternative to sugary sodas and juices.

If you're interested in trying Greek ice tea for yourself, My Greek Delights offers a range of authentic Greek food and beverages that can be ordered online and delivered straight to your door. Their Greek ice tea is made with the highest quality ingredients, ensuring a delicious and healthy drink that you can enjoy any time of day.

In conclusion, Greek ice tea is a delicious and healthy beverage that offers numerous health benefits. Whether you're looking to improve digestion, reduce inflammation, or simply enjoy a refreshing drink, Greek ice tea is an excellent choice. With its unique blend of herbs and natural ingredients, it's no wonder that this drink has been enjoyed for centuries in Greece and beyond.

[suckitsurveys]

survey by supremequeenstyles

Did you get enough rest last night? I never feel like I get enough rest.

What was the last thing that kept you awake? My own brain.

If you have pets, do they sleep in your bedroom at night? There is usually at least one cat in our bedroom at night. Either on the bed, in the cat tree, or in the closet on top of Mark’s set of drawers. Sometimes all three will be in there.

Can you sleep with background noise or does it keep you up? I need white noise.

Do you ever take naps? Do you take long naps or little power naps? Naps usually fuck me up.

What helps when you have trouble sleeping? Playing games on my phone, particularly a coloring app.

Who was the last person to cook you a meal? What did they make? Mark made us tacos last night.

Who was the last person you cooked a meal for? What did you make? I helped make tacos (lol) for Mark’s mom’s birthday a week ago.

Who is your female celeb crush? (If applicable) Aubrey Plaza, Alia Shawkat, Alison Brie, Natasha Lyonne

Who is your male celeb crush? (If applicable) Will Arnett, Pete Davidson, Harry Styles, John Mulaney

Tell me about an interesting article you’ve read recently. I read something about Pete Davidson’s new show Bupkis. It was an interview with Edie Falco, who plays his mom. They talked about the first scene of the show and EEK. I am excited and scared ahhaha.

Do you have a favorite Marvel character? Bro I don’t know the difference between Marvel and DC outside of Batman.

Favorite DC character? Hahah ^. It’s Batman.

Do you read comic books? Sometimes.

Who has been your favorite actor to play Batman? Will Arnett hahahah.

Who has been your favorite live action Joker? Heath Ledger always and forever.

Has a horror film ever actually scared you? Which one(s)? I don’t like jump scares so anything with a jump scare has technically scared me.

What was the last horror movie you saw? It’s not something I seek out but the last one I watched was Bodies Bodies Bodies if you wanna call that horror.

What was the first horror movie you remember seeing? What did you think of it? The Ring, if that counts.

Name a few historical figures you find interesting. Why? That’s not something I really think about.

What is your favorite historical film and why? Meh.

Do you usually enjoy historical films? Not typically.

Name a sequel film (any franchise) you like better than the first film. Why is that? I can’t think of anything. Clerks 2 kind of comes to mind only in that is was more in the realm of “raunchy” mainstream comedies and also had a higher production budge, but the original Clerks is so near and dear to my heart. 

Which do you find most interesting: Greek, Roman, or Norse mythology? Why? Greek.

Which tale from whichever mythology you listed above do you find most interesting? I have to brush up on the stories. I haven’t read any since high school.

Do you collect anything? What was the last item you added to that collection? I collect panda things. The last thing added to that was a gift from my dad, which was one of those cube drawers with a panda face on it.

Do you have any houseplants? Yes, a couple small ones.

How do you like your tea? I prefer an iced matcha but regular green tea is good too.

Who is your favorite Muppet? Fozzie Bear.

What is your favorite type of bird? Cardinals.

Which streaming platform do you use the most, if any? I don’t really feel like there is one I use more than another, honestly. I guess I rotate depending on what I’m watching. Like, right now I’m watching Arrested Development on Netflix, Barry on HBO Max, and SNL on Peacock. Oh, if Spotify counts as a streaming platform, then definitely that since I listen to music on it every day.

What is a skill or useful piece of knowledge you wish you’d learned sooner? How to take care of myself better.

What is your favorite vampire movie? I don’t have one.

Your favorite fictional couple? Angela and Dwight from The Office or April and Andy from Parks and Rec.

Do you have a favorite historical couple? No.

Have you received any good news recently? Uhhhh nothing super huge.

Have you learned anything new recently? Again, nothing super huge or worth noting.

[lovely-ell]

Alastor & Reader - Take A Breath

A/N: Hello lovelies! This was requested by @willowaudreykeyes and I hope they enjoy this piece. This is basically Alastor & Overworked Reader, or at least that is how I envision it. I can relate to this on a personal level, and I hope this can bring comfort to those who find it! Considering this is only my second piece, I am of course nervous about writing but I hope you find it entertaining! If you have any feedback, do let me know! I appreciate it more than you know!

Synopsis: As one of Alastor’s close friend’s, they have been helping out at the hotel for some time. As they do not have as intimidating a reputation as the Radio Demon, Charlie has tasked them with some more gentle and personal tasks. In addition to their regular hotel work, it becomes extremely taxing on them until they just break one day. Alastor helps them get through it and offers a listening ear.

Warnings: Mentions of overworking/burnout, definitely some angst and a bit of swearing. Slight mentions of therapy/rehab and sleep deprivation. A bit of self loathing. Anxiety/panic attacks are referenced, some cruel jokes made by Angel. Mostly platonic but some intimacy if you squint.

Fanart: I couldn’t find the person, if you find them please let me know!

I wished the days would just get easier or stop altogether. It was exhausting. I hated it. The hotel itself wasn’t that bad, but working for Mr. Radio Demon made it grueling. If there was one thing that me and him could agree on, though, was that the whole “rehabilitation and going to heaven” thing wasn’t gonna work out. Simply put, we had our chance, we fucked it up, and we end up down here. No point in trying to redeem ourselves when we’re already in hell and had countless opportunities on Earth. Regardless, as much as me and him see it as futile, I still worked at the damned hotel.

Charlie, for some unknown reason, took more of a liking to me than my boss. Could be the fact that I don’t have posters plastered everywhere about myself and my achievements as a powerful demon, but who knows. For this reason, she has given me (another demon, who is in hell for a reason) the task of creating the rehab programs and hosting 75% of the therapy sessions. The only responsibility I didn’t have constantly was cooking. Me, Angel Dust, and Alastor rotated the meals per the week. This was Alastor’s week, and he was making his famous Jambalya.

As he carried the platter of food to the table, the scent wafted through the air with a comforting notion. I had offered to help him, but he insisted that since it was his week, he would do it. Did seem as though he greatly appreciated the offer, I will say.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Alastor! This is delicious”, Hell’s princess shouted from one head of the table to the other. “Oh it was really no problem, do enjoy!”, laughed the infamous overlord, taking great credit for his cooking. I have no shame in admitting that he is the best cook of all of us. At least, generally. Angel makes the best Italian food though.

Alastor turned towards me, two chairs to his right, “I suppose we should get straight to business, shall we?”. We usually start with how the front desk went, and today was my day. I guess I had just gotten the worst day to be on the 5am - 5pm job, as we had gotten many walk-ins, but none of them checked in.

“How did your shift go, Y/N?”, he questioned, attracting the gaze of all the other demons at the table. Satan, how did he always gather so much attention?

“Well, not great…” I solemnly spoke, my eyes averting away from their stares. Even still, I could sense Charlie’s frown and Vaggie’s look disappointment in my sleep. “Oh…well how many checked in?”, she said, trying to establish some form of hope in this hopeless hotel.

“None. We had 6 walk-ins but none of them stayed after I explained the rules.”, my fingers scratched my scalp in frustration as I looked down. The dining hall fell silent for what seemed like an eternity, until the spider stripper finally spoke.

He playfully kicked my shin, “Well damn toots! Whad’ya do this time?”. I heard a few half-hearted giggles from across the table, my eyes beginning to burn. I started to scratch my head harder, not that I had any nails that could do any damage, since I had bit them too short

I tried to contain my anger, not uttering a word. I looked to my right and shot him a glare, the atmosphere getting tenser by the second. Just by that stupid grin on his face I could tell he was getting a kick out of this. “Cat got ya tongue? Eh, oh well. I’d say I’d kill ya but Ms. Princess can do that herself!”, he cackled at the table, nearly falling out of his chair. I rubbed my temples, trying hard to contain myself. Satan, he was funny sometimes but he could be annoying as all hell at others.

I abruptly stood from my chair, knuckles turning white from the strength in which I held my fist. I turned around and left through the back door, undoubtedly getting glares and confused stares.

I took a few laps around the hotel, then settled on the front stairs. I wanted to pull my hair out. Anything to distract me from my thoughts. I had so much paper work to complete, so early it was due. My chest felt heavy as I struggled to take a full breath. I couldn’t see as well and my hearing was muffled. My head spinned with deadlines and the threat of reprimand. Reprimand for something I clearly deserved it for. I was the most emotionally healthy besides Charlie in the entire hotel. It’s supposed to be my job to-

“Take a breath, Y/N”, a voice spoke from behind me. I covered my ears with my hands, hoping to make it all stop. My hands were gingerly pried off of my ears one at a time with gentle claws. “Shh…breathe in my dear”, it spoke again, now creating soothing circles on my back as my head was between my knees. I tried to follow it’s instructions, but I couldn’t manage. “God, why can’t I do anything right!”

It stopped rubbing my back, and it shifted up to my chin. With one claw, it carefully lifted my head so I could see it. It was Alastor. Why was he here? “Sweetheart, it’s alright to not be perfect. We are in hell, after all”, the demon spoke, moving the loose strands of hair away from my teary eyes. My face crashed back into my knees, muffled sobs escaping my lips. I heard his shoes click to my side, and stop with a slight thud. He stroked my hair in an attempt to soothe me.

“Shh…breathe sweetheart, breathe in deeply…”, the overlord spoke, still running his fingers through my h/c locks. After a few minutes, I finally was able to take a deep breath, “Good darling, now try to hold it for me. It’s alright if you can’t”. I held it until he gave the command to let it go, and I did. After that my breathing slowly but surely slowed on its own once more. “Great job my dear, but we really must have a chat if that’s alright”, Alastor questioned, waiting for my approval. I internally groaned, “What, do you need me to work an extra shift tonight?”, I answered with my own question.

“Work? My dear you can’t be serious!”, he said to me, taking my hand in his. “Let’s head to my room, shall we? It would most likely be better to talk of such topics there”. For once in my life I think I may have seen his smile falter

I followed him up the outside emergency stairs, entering his room not moments after getting inside. The Radio Demon motioned towards his bed where I soon sat, him locking the door behind us.

He sat on the bed, averting his gaze for a moment before asking me, “Since there is quite no other way to ask this, I’ll get to it. What is going on Y/N?”. I froze, my thoughts racing. Did I do something wrong? Forget to fill something out? “Al, what did I miss? I thought I did everything that was due?”

“No, no no! Not work! Get work out of that silly little head of yours!”, he said exasperatedly, tapping his nail on the top of my skull. “What is wrong with you, as in why did you abruptly leave dinner to be found sitting on the hotel steps, in the dark, hyperventilating?”, he shifted his body towards me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I…I’m not sure…”, I answered truthfully, I still don’t know quitewhat happened.

“I can tell you exactly what happened”, he spoke to me. I turned my head up in interest, and he continued. “Charlie has given you some emotionally and mentally taxing jobs in addition to regular hotel tasks, due to your unnaturally friendly behavior in Hell”, the demon said, crossing his arms. “And since you don’t know how to say no, you willfully took all of these tasks and are now overworked and burnt out”, Alastor said, almost in a way a parent would scold their child, but with more care and concern in his tone. Burnt out…that sounded exactly how I felt.

“But who else is going to do it…?”, I lowered my head, not daring to look into his eyes. He once again lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look into them. “I’m not sure, but you shouldn’t have to do it all on your own”, he said sternly, but he seemed to have more to say. “You can’t do this to yourself, Y/N. I may be your employer, but I do care for you. And that is why I’m having you take a mandatory 2-week break!”, cheerily he exclaimed, as if it was a cause for celebration.

“Alastor! Who is going to do all of my work while I’m on break! I can’t do that!”, I yelled desperately, in hopes of finding someway to could convince him. “No buts! It starts this evening, right now! I will have the work divided between the hotel, but please, do get some rest my dear”, he said, before lifting himself off of the bed, and beginning to leave. I felt something deflate within me, and wanted to make one final, yet absurd request.

“Wait, Alastor?”

“Yes darling?”

“You don’t have to but..”

“But what?”

“May I have a hug, please?”

“…I suppose one wouldn’t kill me again”, Al said as he walked over, enveloping me in his arms. I sunk into his shoulder, a restful slumber finally falling upon me.

[drabbles-mc]

If you've got time I'd love to hear some SOA head canons and stuff you wish more people talked about or something you've been waiting for people to ask you about!

Anon, I am kissing you gently on the forehead. 💖

I wish we got more lowkey content, you know? In canon and in the fandom. Just real, "guys being dudes" type of shit. I think the reason I love writing banter and silly little headcanons for them is because that kind of levity really got lost along the way in the show. But I would love to just see slice of life MC style.

Juice and Happy getting sent to shop in bulk for a lockdown. Juice has no idea how much of anything it will take and tries to overshop, and Happy tries to buy too little and it's just them arguing the entire time. Meanwhile Tig is already at the checkout line with three shopping carts filled with shit that literally no one needs.

T-M shenanigans. In my own silly little sandbox, Jax is the worst mechanic out of all of them. 😂 The idea of Chibs just consistently walking by after Jax walks away from a car/truck/bike that he's working on and tinkering with it to fix whatever Jax was messing up fills my little heart with glee. (Also we deserved to see those boys all sweaty and grimy after a day of work in the shop and no one can tell me that I'm wrong)

The house-sitting/pet-sitting rotation in the club based on who is on a run and who isn't. You know that not all of these men are cut out to have the responsibility of taking care of pets. Do they all bring their pets to one person's house? Or is one poor sucker stuck driving from house to house to house making sure that everything is alright? Both scenarios are equally entertaining and chaotic, and only gets better depending on who gets left in charge.

For a town where so many people all grew up together, I really wish there were more instances of people bringing up shit that happened in like middle school or high school or whatever. Because, yeah, everyone grows up and moves on but you don't just forget about those high school rivalries and the embarrassing things your rival did. I want to know what stupid shit these boys did and who caught them. The idea of Hale and Jax throwing little digs at each other during interrogations over stuff that happened when they were freshmen in high school?? That's top-tier shit that I would love to know all about.

You know at least half of these boys don't know how to cook a decent meal because there was always women around to do it for them. I personally think that Juice is one of the best cooks out of all of them because he has that whole health streak in him. The thought of him trying to give any of them cooking lessons??? God that's humor that just writes itself.

Also every now and then I think about the fact that the guys definitely just go to hang out at Red Woody the same way they hang out at the clubhouse. And yea of course a huge benefit of it is because they're making porn. But also the idea that they actually get to know the women and the men who make the movies and develop these little types of friendships?? Like them asking the dudes how they really just get through certain stuff being done to them and then being ready to do it all over again for the next film just makes me cackle every time. Because you know the actors, regardless of gender, would be like, "You guys get shot and stabbed on a regular basis and you're telling me you would draw the line at anal????"

I love these characters with my whole heart. I think about them constantly. These are just some of the things that were at the top of my head when I sat down to answer this. Just some of the fun stuff.

I am always more than happy to talk about these characters and headcanons for them. Getting these kinds of asks from y'all truly makes my day. If you ever wanna talk more about it always feel free to drop something in my inbox or dm's. 💛

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, mentions of FORCED PROSTITUTION.

wc; 12k

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

–

If it weren’t for the irritating sun rays landing right on your face and into your eyes, you’d bask in this warm feeling forever. It’s like receiving an embrace from spring, herself. Bright sunlight, tolerable temperatures, bees, flowers, sundresses, picnics and comfortable afternoons in the park with your family. You can’t count how many good memories you have from grass fields and playgrounds in District Four.

Watching Alyssum run around the park, making friends and being a kid while she can is the most satisfying part. You can watch her for hours, lose yourself in her carelessness. Your sister hasn’t got a worry in the world to think about, it makes you envy her. A nice house, warm meals, a loving family. None of you are perfect, but you try to be for her.

There’s a lot she’s going to be missing out on already when it comes to parents. She has you, Reed and Mox to fill those roles for her. You’d like to say she can’t miss something she’s never experienced, you’d be lying, though. You miss a regular teenage life that you never got to live, thanks to the Hunger Games. The Capitol is always ruining something, even if they’re not actively trying.

Which brings you back to reality. As much as you’d like to lay here in the soft blankets and keep to your warm spot on the bed, you’ve got to get moving. If the sun is in your eyes already, it only means that your time is up when it comes to sleeping. Like a natural alarm clock, only somehow more annoying, even if it’s not loud and in your face.

You turn onto your back, slowly opening your eyes. You’re met with a white ceiling, smooth and crack-free. Back home in your room, your ceiling has plenty of cracks. When you don’t feel like getting up immediately, you’ll play a game with yourself. See which ones will start on one side of the room and make it to the other. You’ve gotten good at it, and confidently say that there’s a few that go beyond that, they go to the windowsill. 

With a gentle sigh, you sit up on the bed, turned toward the window, stretching your arms above your head. It feels good to get the blood pumping through your arms and shoulders again. You can’t really help it when the stretch extends down to your legs. A low moan leaves your lips, and stops dead in your throat when your thighs begin to hurt.

You hum, standing on your feet. It hurts at first, but the more you move around the room, the better you begin to feel. You stare out of the window for a couple of seconds to see that the Capitol is already alive. It’s definitely past noon at this point. So much for a rotating schedule with Finnick, you’ve already ruined it.

You look over the room you’re in, which definitely isn’t your own. It’s Finnick’s, with the bamboo bed frame, white sheets and the hammock across his room. You used to hear him say how much he enjoyed your room over his, something about the ceiling to floor windows that you have. Takes up an entire wall, gives you a great view of the city. Better than the tiny windows he has lining the wall.

The clock says that it’s a little after two. You two really have got to start moving before you miss out on anything inside of the arena. Not to mention, poor Gloss is sitting down there alone. He hasn’t had a friend to sit with since six this morning. A whole eight hours can be boring as hell, and quite frankly, lonely. He might have resorted talking to the sponsors, at this point.

Finnick is still sleeping on the bed, of course. His back is turned to the sun, explaining why he hasn’t woken up just yet. It’s not going to stay that way for very long. You’d leave him sleeping up here if it weren’t for the fact that it’s entertaining to see him hungover. It’s not often you get to see him like that, and you’re not really willing to pass up an opportunity. Plus, you might as well keep him around as company so it doesn’t get awkward later.

Before you wake him up, you find and put on your bra. He got to see all of you last night, there’s no reason to continue to walk around shirtless. You pick up your pants, and tank top, as your shoes are kicked off by the door. You begin to pull on your jeans, having to bounce slightly to pull them up all the way, when Finnick rolls over.

He groans, throwing his arm over his face to keep the sun from getting in his face. You’re satisfied to see that he’s about to get the same unpleasant wakening that you got, until you realize that his arm completely blocks out the light. What a shame, you were looking forward to watching him come to life like a zombie.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, not really wanting to disturb the peace. He doesn’t seem to hear you, or maybe you’re too quiet. You speak a little louder, “We should probably get down to the betting room, check on our tributes.”

Finnick freezes, and then jolts upright. His wide eyes land on you easily, face twisting as he slowly thinks over the scene in front of him. You pull on your tank top, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. After a couple more seconds, he hums out a small tune and falls back onto his pillows, closing his eyes.

“I thought I was still at a client’s house for a second.” he breathes.

“Good morning,” you muse, “How are you feeling?”

“Besides the pounding headache, my back’s pretty messed up.” his eyes open, giving you a sly smirk. You grab one of his shoes, which aren’t as close to the door as yours are, and chuck it at him. Finnick laughs loudly, catching the shoe before it makes a hole in the wall, “I’m fine, considering that I finished half of your drink last night on top of mine.”

“One of us had to be responsible, and I figured that you wouldn’t want to be the one.”

“The next time we go out, I’m going to make you loosen up.” Finnick says.

“If you’re calling me uptight, I’ll shove a stick up your ass so you can see how it feels.” you lean against the wall.

He rolls his eyes, getting out of bed. He’s got a pair of boxers on, so he’s not completely naked either, “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested, actually. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” Finnick says, kicking yesterday’s jeans into the corner, as well as the shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you snort, collecting your shoes, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

“Sure.”

You leave his room, shutting the door behind you. In your own, you quickly change and throw the dirty clothes off to the side for easy collecting when the avoxes come around later. It’s not as hot inside of the Tribute Center as it was yesterday, but the heat is still apparent enough to be one of the first things on your mind. You settle for a pair of shorts, sandals and a white tank top.

You throw the pile of clothes onto the bathroom countertop. The door whooshes shut behind you, sending a cold breeze of air straight to your back. Much like yesterday, you turn the shower water to cold, just on the verge of being warm. You decide to skip getting your hair wet, since you don’t really have time to mess around. It’s a quick wash with sweet smelling soaps before you’re out again.

As you’re drying yourself with the cyan blue towel, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. And with what you see the first time briefly, you have to go back to check that you saw correctly. A scowl appears on your face when you get closer, fingers gently brushing against your collarbone. Little dark marks litter your skin. 

You press your lips together, staring for a couple of seconds longer. You have no choice, you have to cover these up. So, you pull on your clothes and get to work with the makeup, trying to find colors that’ll cancel out the hickey colors. You spend a good ten minutes blending, color correcting, and starting over when it’s too obvious. When you’re finally done, you can still tell that they’re there, but it won’t be the first thing anyone sees when they look at you.

You’d just wear a regular shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you’re already sweating with the tanktop on. You put on the sandals on your way out, making sure your ring is secured on your hand. Finnick is already sitting at the dining room table when you get out there, hair wet and he’s dressed in pink and white.

“Took you long enough.” he says, stabbing his fork into a pancake piece and placing it in his mouth.

You glare as you sit down on the chair, “I had a problem. Actually, you gave me a couple of problems and I solved them.”

His face twists, eyeing you now, trying to find the difference. When a plate of pancakes is served in front of you, plate hot to the touch, you cut up the pancakes, slightly amused by his determination to try and prove you wrong. Does he really think that he’ll be able to? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before with Anchor.

Finnick shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

At least now you have insurance that you did a good job. Finnick might be some type of moronic but that doesn’t mean he misses details. It’s the small things that you have to look out for. Another skill that you need when you’re mentoring, another thing to add to the list that you’ve gotten good at after these years. From what you remember, Finnick’s not too bad at it, himself.

The avox turns on the tv without either of you asking, but you thank him anyway. As you go for fruits instead of syrup this morning, you catch up on the arena with Finnick. Sanguin is in the cornucopia, a fire going in front of her. She’s got some sort of animal skewered using her sword, roasting it over the fire. She looks pissed, staring into the fire, letting the flames flicker in her eyes. 

You’d like to say that she finally lost her mind, but she lost it a long time ago. Way before Bauhinia. Maybe while she was being strategically trained to think that the other tributes in the arena were animals? Or maybe when she volunteered for the Hunger Games like it would be a walk in the park? It’s hard to say exactly, there’s a lot of moments in these past few weeks where she could’ve gone wrong.

At any rate, she’s got enough water to last her a while. You can confidently say that she won’t be leaving the cornucopia unless it’s to get more food. There’s no way that the sponsors are going to cough up any money just for her to eat. Especially when she’s supposed to be trained for the arena. She should know how to hunt and gather. Besides, you’re sure that Gloss would want them to wait until it’s something important, like that healing cream. Even then, it took a couple of people to pitch in. The prices are getting amped up, it’s harder to pay for things now.

You have a feeling that she’s sitting down there for a reason, instead of going off and trying to hunt down any other tributes. She’s healed by now, you watched her put more healing cream on her body last night before she decided to call it a night. Which means that this morning, the entire wound has got to be gone. She’s still going to be sore when moving around, but that’s an obvious nuisance. She technically should be able to work through it.

So, if she’s not interested in hunting Tekla, that means she’s waiting for Annie to come out of the village. And you’d say that’s a pretty big problem, except for the fact that it’s not. Annie’s got plenty of food and water from her raid on the career backpacks and whatever Marsh was holding before he died. If she doesn’t want to, she won’t have to leave the house unless it’s for some sort of Capitol-generated emergency.

After yesterday, you can’t see them doing something like that. You don’t even think that both tributes dying were intentional. They like to watch the last couple of teens fight it out, since they’re the ones that are either: one, completely trained for the arena and know how to take another tribute out with a simple tree branch and a rock. Or, they’re completely lucky and know how to blend into their surroundings and stay there until the Capitol is forced to step in. They only do it when there’s been several days without any interaction between tributes and the Capitol citizens are starting to riot.

Those tributes are the ones that can go days without food. Water, not so much, but they’ll find a source nearby and stick with it as long as they can without getting suspicious. It’s not an impressive feat to go days without eating, it just goes to show the horrible living conditions inside of the other districts. Fortunately, your family hit rock bottom, but you never had to keep digging.

As for Annie, she’s still looking pretty dead inside of her house. She’s moved to a different corner that gives her a better look to see. It looks like she’ll doze off for a second before jerking upright, hand tightening around her sword. You saw her sleep last night, it was the whole reason why you and Finnick decided it was acceptable to leave the betting room in the first place. With the peace of mind of knowing that Annie was finally getting the rest she needed.

When you were at the bar, you didn’t really keep track of what was going on inside of the arena. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t a brilliant idea in the first place. If there was an emergency with Annie, knowing as soon as possible would’ve hypothetically saved her life. But you also just wanted one moment for yourself, with Finnick and a drink. It wasn’t much to ask for, and you’re sure that it was well-deserved. If it wasn’t, Annie would be dead in a ditch right now.

To some extent, she might as well be. While Sanguin is fueled with hate-fire right now--literally. Annie looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. She’s pale, the previous kind girl light in her eyes is gone. She looks like a corpse, freshly pulled out of the coffin. You wish you’ve seen this before, because maybe that would make it easier to understand why she isn’t grieving like normal. Normally, tributes cry for hours, sometimes days until they have to pull it together to win. Annie is just… she’s completely lifeless. Actually, she looks like she’s given up with trying to survive inside of the arena. Which is a dangerous mindset to adapt, especially now.

Just two more tributes to burn through, all she has to do is hold on. Let Sanguin and Tekla fight it out, hope that one kills the other, and the one gets severely injured enough to bleed out and die. It would make the whole thing a lot easier on her, you know that. The last thing she’d probably need on her plate right now, is another death. She’s already got two genuinely impressive ones--taking out the male careers? You’re the only other person who has done that in the past five years. And she’s witnessed the death that would affect her, and it’s taking its toll already. It’s been two days.

Well, as long as Annie stays where she is, eats, drinks and sleeps when she needs to, she won’t have to worry about anything. However, this idea also goes for Sanguin, on the assumption that Tekla isn’t bold enough to go ahead and attack her uninvited. Sanguin’s also set for days--if she has extra food stored somewhere in the case of emergencies.

The only person that might get bored and start causing havoc is Tekla. She’s in the woods by herself, in a patch of grass unguarded by trees. She lays in the sun with her eyes closed, hands laced behind her head. Looking exactly like she did on the first couple of days inside of the arena. This time, she has a good reason to be carefree. Before, she had more than ten other tributes to worry about, all fighting to go home. Now it’s down to two others. It should be a walk in the park, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s being put up against two careers.

You wonder what her odds look like right now. They hadn’t changed last night, not even after she killed Seven boy. But now that it officially looks like she’s going to make it to one of the final fights and be crowned victor, she’s gotta have moved up. District Nine hasn’t had a victor in a long, long time. Their last one was a guy, and he’s the first male to be put into the mentor spot. If you remember correctly, there’s only five victors in Nine, which means that four of them are female. 

Figures that their new potential victor would be a girl, right?

It looks like you don’t really have anything to worry about arena-wise. Really, if you wanted to, you could just stay inside of the apartment. With half-alive Annie, vengeful Sanguin and cheerful Tekla, it’s safe to say that today’s a free day. Things could change, but that’s just your prediction. The only reason you’d have to go down to the betting room is to show up for Gloss, but he doesn’t really matter, does he? You can just go and see him tomorrow.

“You’ve got a look on your face.” Finnick says, your eyes find him to see that he’s staring.

“So?” you stab a strawberry and place it in your mouth, resisting the momentary sour expression before the sweetness takes over.

“It’s your indecisive look.”

Now, your face twists, “I do not have an indecisive look--”

He laughs, “It’s unmistakable! You get the look when you’re thinking over something important.”

“Like a decision?” you ask, trying to be serious, but you end up laughing.

He seems to let it go for a moment, until he’s looking at you again, “What was it?”

You shrug, “I was just thinking that we wouldn’t have to go down to the betting room if we didn’t want to. The silence in the arena gives us a couple of liberties that we wouldn’t have on a normal day.”

“Oh, so you do have a relaxed side.” Finnick thoroughly enjoys the face you make, raising your fist as a threat to punch him in the arm again. You wonder how far he can push you before you finally give him a nasty bruise, “And you also woke me up for nothing.”

“Technically you woke yourself, I just spoke.” you shrug, “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Might as well go back to bed while I can, then.” Finnick says, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.

You wait, receive your coffee, and let him stare at you for a little while, “What are you waiting for?”

“It wouldn’t be responsible--” he mocks the word in your voice, “--to go back to bed, wouldn’t it?”

You glare, “Finnick, you have the night shift, anyway. Stay awake, go back to bed, get drunk at The Victory Speech, have dinner with Gloss, I don’t give a shit.”

“You seem like you want me to go away.” he says, ��I think I’ll stick with you, then.”

“Fine by me.” you scoop up your coffee mug, taking it with you when you go downstairs to sit on the couch. You pull out a coaster to not ruin the pristine glass table.

There’s not much to watch the tributes do at all. Sanguin roasts her food, and you think she ends up daydreaming some, because she burns the bottom side of the meat. Doesn’t even wrinkle her nose or look fazed when she bites straight into that part, even when it disintegrates in her mouth the more she chews. After she’s done eating, she moves to the back of the cornucopia, hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a nap.

Annie turns her knife over in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before she knicks herself one too many times. After that, she settles for pulling out a line of rope from her backpack, tying and untying knots. It’s a common hobby that people use to soothe anxiety and pass time when there’s nothing else to do. Doesn’t surprise you that she’s resorted to this. Although, you do begin to worry slightly when you watch her jump at the slightest of sounds and nearly get up every single time to check.

You’d say it’s a reasonable response, thinking that Sanguin is after her. But the house creaks the same way every time, lets out the same groan each time the wind blows too hard. It’s not like they’re new sounds. She should’ve picked up on this by now, realized that there’s no need to get ready to hurry into battle. Watching her grab her knife, lean forward, and listen for any other sounds over and over begins to make you feel antsy.

“There’s something wrong with Annie.” Finnick says.

You hum, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you think it is?”

You shake your head, “Still working on that idea.”

“Anything you’ve seen before?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.” You lean back into the couch, “Let’s just wait and see how bad it gets.”

And the truth is, it gets worse, because it can always get worse. The good news is that you’ve figured out how to help her, on top of figuring out the problem in the first place. The bad news is that it requires a sponsor. And like you said earlier, all the prices have gone up. Getting one now would be a nightmare, but you have to try anyway.

As you go down to the betting room with Finnick, you think it over.

Annie is suffering from paranoia. She’s obviously shell-shocked from watching Marsh die, otherwise she would be acting normally. You guess that allowing two tributes that have known each other for a handful of years, go inside of the arena together wasn’t the brightest idea. But it’s not like you could control it. You don’t think that they even planned for it to happen, it was just a coincidence.

This is just one part of the problem, watching Marsh die. She also might be feeling guilty because she didn’t try harder to keep him from going. It makes the most sense. She tried to convince him to stay, but the second he showed resistance, she caved and followed. Guilt like this will haunt someone forever. If she wins, she’ll be stuck with thinking that Marsh could’ve gone a better way.

You know this, because you carry around a considerable amount of guilt, too.

The last part, concerning Annie, is the fact that she hasn’t slept in a while. Paranoia feeds off insomnia. Getting an hour or two of sleep after watching your friend die right in front of you, in arguably one of the worst ways possible, is an unfortunate series of events. She can’t prevent not being able to sleep, so you’ll just help her as best as you can.

When you presented all of this to Finnick, he agreed. Said that he was thinking something along the lines of what you are. The only hiccup that he’s worried about is finding sponsors wealthy enough to sponsor this late into the games. They also have to be betting on her too, so that if she does win, they’ll get the return in full. 

The betting room seems slightly busier than usual. Like you predicted earlier, Gloss decided to go ahead and take company in the Capitol people. Tekla’s mentor seems busy off in the corner, with people that don’t look like they nearly have enough money to sponsor this late in the game. It wouldn’t be any use trying to steal them, just a waste of time.

Gloss knows people, but that would mean to interrupt what he’s doing right now, which seems fairly important. The group of people that Finnick had approved of is thin, pooling their money together wouldn't even buy a loaf of bread. Much less what you’re thinking about right now.

It only leaves a couple of people, ones you haven’t talked to in days. You stop a couple of steps inside of the room, allowing Finnick to come in and shut the door behind him. He waits there for a moment, before coming around the side.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice is slightly hushed. No one has really taken notice of your appearance just yet. If needed, you could probably slip out the door and no one would know the difference. 

You look at him.

You made an agreement, take his advice on who to be around and who to stay away from, and he’ll help you. You thought that it would be easy then, because you didn’t need the sponsors. Annie and Marsh had a strategy down, they didn’t look like they’d be needed help anytime soon. They had everything they needed at the moment. But now that Annie needs something more, you’re stuck.

Having Finnick around to be a second body, a second pair of hands and eyes and ears, has made a difference. You’ve slept well, you’ve been allowed to hang out with friends when given the opportunity, and you can finally pace yourself. No more running around like it’s life or death, or being afraid to sleep because an arena is particularly dangerous. 

However, you can do it alone. Annie’s needs right now is going to come before whatever requirements Finnick has. Bringing a tribute home is crucial, buddying with Finnick is a perk. If he gets mad at you for this, there's always next year.

“I need you to come with me and not intervene, or go back upstairs.” You say, squeezing the finger your ring is on.

His face twists, “It depends—“

“No. You go upstairs, or you don’t intervene.” You start towards the sponsors, “I mean it, Finnick.” 

You’re not even halfway across the room before they spot you. You smile at them, letting them welcome you. When you don’t feel Finnick’s presence behind you like normal, you turn to look. The door is sweeping shut, you briefly catch a glimpse of him leaving. 

The sponsors are happy to see you again, you talk with them for a while, and watch what goes on inside of the arena. It’s all small talk, or questions about what you feel like is going to happen. Until they finally bring up Annie, how she’s doing. And just because you can’t hold it in, you spill it all out, being completely honest with them. 

Annie is hurting right now, and she can’t help it. She can’t simply fall asleep because she’s afraid of the nightmares and the vulnerability that comes with it. There’s always the possibility that her body simply isn’t letting her sleep, too. She’s not physically tired, so why would she lay down and try? So, you think that if you find something that’ll make her drowsy, she’ll feel more inclined to.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if it means that she wins the games, right? The sponsors seem to think so, and with a budget, you bring them over to the sponsoring table. Everything under the sun is allowed to be sent to them. Name it, and thye’re probably have it. It’s just the price that makes it impossible to work around.

You know for sure that pills are out of the question. The second you see the price, you’re switching gears. Medicine? Maybe. You look at all the options they have for tributes for when they’re sick. You’ve seen a handful of these brands in District Four, all of them expensive. With the money that the Capitol gives you, you can finally afford them. Which means that Alyssum doesn’t have to suffer through colds like before. The medicine works wonders, but the Capitol version will be too much for her to handle. It might as well be a tranquilizer.

Something more natural, then. Those are always cheaper. You go through it, seeing the little vials of brightly colored liquids and the contents. Ones to make you throw up, give adrenaline if the tribute is dying, allergy medicine to save them from anaphylactic shock. And finally, one for sleeping. Without a moment of hesitance, you tap on it.

They all pitch in a certain amount, allowing the vial to be covered in full. You thank them, with assurance that it won’t go to waste. Annie is a tough tribute, she’ll be able to win. All she needs is a little sleep to reset her body, hopefully start her over. It’s like shutting something completely off before trying again.

You take a breath before writing on the paper, ‘Drink it all’.

You get to stand back and watch as the gamemakers find the best way to send it to her. You don’t doubt that she’ll hear the noise that the gifts make. Especially if she’s hearing noises that aren’t being picked up on the microphones. It’s where they have to drop it off to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything on the way down, like a corner of a roof.

The chiming is a sound that you still hear in your nightmares. You watch as the silver parachute glides through the air, slowly moving between the houses. At first, it doesn’t seem to alarm Annie, but then she jolts, pauses to make sure she’s hearing it right, and then gets up. She shoves her knife into her belt, carefully goes down the stairs so that it doesn’t break beneath her.

She looks more alive like this, the color has returned to her face slightly, she’s got a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. When she finally comes out of the house, swinging the door open and letting in the natural light, she cries out in shock and covers her eyes. She mutters out a few curse words, squinting through the sun until her eyes adjust.

She spots the gift in the middle of the walkway. The smile grows more, scooping the tin into her hand. She gives the area around her a little look-around before disappearing back into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Even though it looks like the lock won’t do much for her anymore. The doorknob is practically falling off.

She makes it all the way to the third floor, back into the corner of her room. She slips down the wall and pops open the lid of the container. The first thing that Annie sees inside is the note, which she reads over carefully before moving it out of the way for the vial. It’s small, not at all as big as they normally sell them earlier on, but those ones also have the tendency to knock a person out for a whole day. This will just keep her asleep for a few hours, maybe the entire night if she drinks it now. You hope that she’ll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Annie uncaps it carefully, and takes a small sniff. You can’t imagine that she recognizes the smell, even though it is sort-of distinct. If the medicine is fresh, it’ll usually smell sweet. If it’s not, then it’s stale, maybe a little sour. Obviously, one is more desirable than the other, but it works the same either way. Whether or not it’s fresh doesn’t affect the way it works.

When Annie is satisfied with the smell, she goes ahead and caps it again. There’s no directions, so she’s going to have to decide how she wants to do this. The sun will be setting in an hour, maybe two. Annie eats some dry foods, drinks some water. It’s smart, her wanting to get food into her body beforehand. If it were you, you probably would’ve just settled for drinking it straight, it might have worked faster that way.

She drinks it, slipping to the floor. She pulls the sleeping bag over herself, closing her eyes. It’s going to take a second to kick in, but it’s enough time for you to go upstairs and out of the betting room. You’ll be back down here bright and early tomorrow, there’s no point spending more time than you have to.

You thank the sponsors, shake hands and exchange hugs. Before you leave the room, you see that the Afternoon Line Odds are all the same. Sanguin’s is 2-1, Annie is 3-1, Tekla is 7-1. All very good odds, but not as good as Sanguin. Hopefully, that’ll change within the next couple of days. You leave the room before Gloss can see that you’re down there.

You spent a good hour or so just talking to the sponsors. The fastest part was getting them to agree on sending Annie a gift. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Finnick makes all of them out to be like criminals, constantly looking for their next fix. But they understand that you’re not like that. They can have their eyes on you all they want, it’s not going to happen. 

Just before you go inside of the apartment, you’re sure that Finnick isn’t going to be out in the living room, or he’s not going to be inside of the apartment all together. However, when you step inside, you’re surprised to see that he’s on the couch, his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother to look over, not even after you shut the door. You almost feel guilty for doing what you did.

Almost.

You sit on the couch next to him, pull your legs up beneath you, and sit in silence. There’s no point to try and talk to him right now. You know that he’d probably like a moment to cool off. It might even be better if you didn’t sit in here at all, so he won’t be fuming next to you. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. You can’t just go back downstairs and sit in the betting room, that would be stupid. If Finnick’s right about the sponsors, there’s no reason to stay around them more than you have to.

So, silence it is. It’s a while before either of you have anything to talk about. Annie should be asleep by now, an entire hour later. There’s no way that the vial would take more than five minutes, even with a full stomach. Still, you watch as her eyes open, a frown appearing on her face, eyebrows turning in.

Your mouth falls open, you stand from the couch, “That’s not good.”

“What did you give her in the first place?” Finnick asks.

“It’s one of those natural sleeping medicines, the expensive ones?” you briefly look at him, before you go back to the tv, “Costed a fortune, so it should’ve worked. The gamemakers wouldn’t send a dud, right?”

“Probably not.” 

You sit back down onto the couch, hands falling into your lap. You made sure that it was the sleeping medicine, and not the sick stuff either. The only other option that was left for Annie besides this, was the herbal tea. And that shit hardly ever works for you, or your siblings when you use it back home. The most the tea would do anyway, is make her drowsy, not even a guarantee.

It’s a good thing that you didn’t even consider the tea, because if the vial did nothing, Annie would be able to drink the entire box of tea and still not feel a single thing. The medicine was a waste of money, and who knows what it’s going to do to her. Make her even more delirious than she already is? Like she, or you guys, need that at all. You were already worried over her paranoia, now you’ve got to be worried about her accidentally killing herself?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. You’ve just got to sit back and wait to see if it kicks in, after all. There’s no point in going downstairs to tell the sponsors it was some sort of mistake, because you really didn’t know that this was going to happen. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Everything is worth a try until it’s wasting resources. You might have been able to use the sponsor money later on.

Still, you have to sit and painfully watch as Annie progressively gets worse. Turns out, that if you don’t fall asleep with the medicine, it starts to work as a hallucinogenic. On top of Annie’s paranoia, she’s not hallucinating she’s hearing noises, and maybe even seeing things. You close your eyes and rest them against your palms when you lean forward, not really liking to hear Annie go through it.

It’s stupid. You’re not even sure how Annie’s resisting the drug, anyway. She’s not doing it on purpose, she clearly recognized the smell if she laid down immediately after. And it’s not like they had any sort of drugs available for hallucinations. No mentor would willingly give their tributes something like that, so why would it be offered?

No matter what happens, though, you’re glad to see that Annie doesn’t leave the house. She stays where she is, clutching onto her knife, staring into space. She’s just like how she was before you sent her the sponsor gift. Only this time around, she’ll randomly jump as if there’s been a loud sound, and then her eyes will follow things in front of her, even when there’s nothing there.

Elysia comes into the apartment around the same time you guys normally eat dinner, a little out of breath, “Oh, there you guys are!”

You look over your shoulder to see that she’s dressed in lime green and black. The black helps accentuate the green part, which you’re not really sure is a good thing. You’re sure that everyone can see her coming from a mile away, literally. 

“You were looking for us?” you ask, she nods, heading over to you and Finnick.

“In the betting room, I thought you’d be down there since you normally are.”

Figures that the one time you wouldn’t be down there, she’d go, “Looked like there wasn’t much going on today so I thought we could stay up here. I only went down there to send the gift.”

“I saw that.” she says, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You three do it over dinner. With Elysia hardly eating and doing most of the talking, Finnick watching the tv and only chiming in when he’s needed, and you trying to do all three at the same time. It’s easy for the most part. Remember when you said that you got good at multitasking? This is an example of that.

She mostly tells you what you already figured out, which is that it turns out to be a hallucinogenic after a while. It should wear off, but it’ll take hours to do. Like, for the amount of time she should have been asleep for. She’s already got a couple of hours under her belt, you’d say that by tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to normal. So, there’s no reason to sit around and wait. 

You and Finnick can get a full night of sleep for once. You just have to get up early tomorrow morning to assess the damage. You’re sure that it’ll be fairly easy to do, you’ll have to get yourself into the habit of waking up early again, anyway. You’ve got the boarding school to worry about. Anchor won’t want to do it alone forever.

Before you give it up tonight, you check the tv one last time. Annie is in her room, so she’s fine. Sanguin looks like she’s officially laying down to sleep, her weapons are displayed around her, all ready to be picked up and used at any time. As for Tekla, she’s made a bed in her little clearing in the trees. However, she’s bold, with a fire going that is distinguishable in the dark. She’s lucky that the back of the cornucopia is turned towards her, otherwise Sanguin would be more than tempted to take Tekla out.

You head back to your room after dinner, mainly to brush your teeth. You pace in your room for a moment, caught in the decision of whether or not to talk to Finnick or to leave him to be angry on his own. You’re sure that he’d appreciate being by himself, but there’s also this morning and last night to talk about. You can’t really just leave those alone, who knows what kinds of problems they’ll cause in the future.

“Okay.” you sigh, heading out of your room and to his. You knock on his door, waiting a second, “Finnick?”

It’s a couple more beats of silence, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You open the door to see that Finnick is sitting on the corner of the bed. He looks up when you step inside, you shut it behind you, and lean against the door, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know we had an agreement, but the sponsors were at my disposal. I decided that I might as well, because I was sure that it would work.”

“And it should’ve.” Finnick mutters, “I would just like it if you wouldn’t go and do it again.”

“Yeah, I won’t. I don’t even have the options for it.” you laugh slightly, he cracks a smile, “You should probably know that I prioritize my mentoring job over everything else. If it’s the needs of the tributes versus you, I’m going to pick the tributes every time.”

“I know, you don’t have to be sorry for it.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t.” you grin.

Finnick rolls his eyes, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You can probably guess what it is.” 

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the horribly covered up hickeys, would it?” He’s cheeky now.

“Maybe.” you give him a soft smile, “I’d just like to know what we’re doing, and if we’re going to continue on with it.”

Finnick makes a face, “This is going to sound like shit, but I’ll go with what you want.”

“You’re right, it does sound like shit.” he laughs first, and then you join in, “The thing is, Finnick, is that I don’t have a problem with it. But the last time I checked, you were the one that told me that we weren’t good together. So are you sure that you’ll go with what I want, or are you going to break up with me in a couple of months after you realize it again?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “I deserve that.”

“It wasn’t an explanation, Finnick. In fact, it made things worse when we were just fine on the train, and then you come back from seeing Snow and--!” you’re shaking your head, giving yourself a moment before you start speaking again, “and suddenly I was supposed to know that we weren’t together anymore.”

“But you know why now, right?” Finnick asks.

“Parts of it.” you rub on the ring, “I know that it was because of Snow and the sex work. He made you break up with me to make you more available to the Capitol, right?”

“No, I actually made that decision myself.” he says.

You raise your eyebrows.

Finnick stares, tilts his head for a moment like he’s unsure, “There’s more to it.”

You wait, thinking that he’s just going to give up the information, but he doesn’t, “Okay…?”

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Then why’d you say anything at all?” 

He laughs, “To not make me look like an asshole.”

You snort.

“Alright well,” Finnick pauses, “President Snow had me taken to his mansion after the train, you know this. He told me that it’s not uncommon for victors to be well received by the Capitol, but I was different because I was handsome or whatever,” his face twists, “And since I was sixteen, I was finally eligible since it’s more morally correct to sell a teen into sex slavery when they’re sixteen and not fourteen.

“Snow said that I didn’t have a choice. I had to get into it or…” Finnick shakes his head, “There wasn’t even an or at the time. He just said that it was something I had to do, and I told him no, because I was finally feeling better and I had you. Then he urged me to say yes, didn’t even tell me that there would be consequences, so I told him no again….”

He’s angry, “And he fucking killed my entire family, gave the order right in front of me. I thought he was kidding, like it was some sort of sick joke until I had to fucking listen to it.” Finnick looks at you, “He didn’t even flinch when the screaming started, or when my brother started crying. I didn’t even know what to do. And after it was over he told me that the next person he’d kill next would likely be you, or your family if he could get to them. Or worse, sell your body too.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“And I didn’t want that to happen, so I said yes. And then I broke up with you because I hoped that it would make the decision a whole lot easier but I think…” he grits his teeth, “I know it would’ve been easier with you to support me.”

No words form in your mouth, you stand in silence as you try to absorb the information.

“I’m…” your eyebrows draw in, “...selfish.”

“No.” Finnick says, “You’re not. You didn’t know, how were you supposed to? I told you nothing, I wanted a clean cut but it turned out to be messy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Finnick?” you look at him, “I’ve been giving you a hard time--why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come around later?”

“Because you moved on, like you should’ve.”

“I didn’t!” you laugh, moving forward, “Finnick, I hardly spoke to anyone after the year we broke up. My brothers fucking hated you for that entire year because of it. It took forever to convince them otherwise. The entire time, I was hoping that you were going to come around and tell me that it was some stupid prank. I would’ve forgiven you!”

He gives you a smile, “It’s better that I didn’t.”

You give him a look, and then sit on the hammock, “I guess that explains a lot.”

“You guess?” He laughs, “That’s it?”

“There’s not much to say, Finnick.” you shrug, “You said you didn’t want to make me feel guilty and I do anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice. If you want, you could thank me for saying yes.”

You stare at him, he develops a cheeky smile, “Come on, that was mildly funny.”

“Mildly is the key word.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and then you dip your head, “I would be willing to give it another try, if you are.”

“Yeah.”

He’s got a grin on his face, like you just told him he’s getting a car for christmas.

“My brother’s will have to warm up to you again.” you warn him.

“Okay! They liked me before, right? What’s one more time?”

“They hardly give out second chances so you’ll have to consider yourself lucky.”

Finnick softly smiles, “I already am.”

--

A sharp pain in your chest wakes you in the morning. Your eyes shoot open, sitting upright in bed. It spreads immediately, like your heart is pumping it out; the source of the problem. You try and take a deep breath, hoping that you’ll get your mind off of it, but it makes the pain worse. Mid-breath, you stop, and exhale too deeply, causing another shock to go through you.

A groan leaves your lips, tears appearing in your eyes. You carefully get out of bed, wanting to be on your feet, hoping that laying down was the problem. You make no sudden moves, allowing the blood to make its way to your feet as you pace the room. With your palm, you rub small circles around your chest, which seems to relieve some of the pressure.

The clock on the stand reads eight in the morning, four hours before you actually have to get up and get ready for the day. You have a feeling that if you go and lie back down now, right when the pain is beginning to subside, you’re only going to make it worse. Plus, you don’t think that you’ll be able to fall back asleep, not with the adrenaline running through your body.

You take deep breaths when it doesn’t hurt, starting to feel dizzy from the self-hyperventilation. In no time, the pain is almost completely gone, only lingering in aches every now and then. You stand around for a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise high enough to finally come through the window before deciding that you might as well get ready.

The Tribute Center seems to have found its happy medium between too hot and too cold, as last night it was like existing in a frozen tundra. You’re lucky that the blanket they provide retains heat, otherwise you would’ve been bundled up a lot more than you were. Because of this, you think that you can settle for a lukewarm shower.

You lock your bedroom door before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower runs in the background as you undress, throwing all the dirty clothes by the door. You look over the tattoo on your collarbone, which is practically done healing by now. With the cream that the tattoo artist gave you, it doesn’t take weeks to heal like it does in the districts. As for the one on the back of your neck, it looks like it was done yesterday, when really it was years ago.

When you step inside the shower, you allow the water to run through your hair. You might as well wash it today. The shampoo you use smells like straight sugar, same goes for the conditioner. The bottle says it’s good for your hair, but the list of chemicals on the back is seriously concerning. The bathroom provides a matching body wash that smells exactly like the shampoo. You know for a fact that you saw a body lotion in one of the drawers, a part of you wonders if that’ll be overkill.

You turn the shower off and let the machines dry your body and hair. You decide to use the body lotion anyway, and by the time you realize that it’s glittery, it’s too late. You stare at your hands for a couple of minutes in shame, watching the white shimmer in the light. However, when it’s completely spread over your body and dried, it doesn’t transfer onto your surroundings, so that’s a good sign.

You brush your teeth while manually putting your hair together. You go for half-up, half-down since it’ll keep most of the hair out of your face. In the end, you still pull out a few strands to make sure that your face isn’t bland. Before you can do anything else, you have to get dressed.

The dresser holds plenty of skirts to work with, which you’re not opposed to. You sift through them, figuring that white will be fine. When you hold it up to your hip, you see that the skirt ends above the knee, so Finnick won’t have a reason to freak out. As for the shirt, you settle for a light pink, scoop neck bodysuit, with white underwear. When you finally get the entire outfit put together, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very pretty today. The skirt doesn’t ride up too bad, even when you move quickly. The bodysuit prevents anything serious from showing, just in case the skirt does find a way to get stuck, or you spin too fast. You apply mascara, pull on white slip-on tennis shoes and the ring. Needless to say, you’re looking extremely girly today.

The clock says it’s reaching nine, you’d say that breakfast will take thirty, and then you can meet Finnick in the betting room at ten. So, you go out to the dining room to see that Elysia is nowhere to be seen. You refuse to believe that she left before you got up, she has to be sleeping in. Normal Capitol people stay up late and rise at noon. But then again, Elysia is an escort and she’s far from normal sometimes.

An avox turns on the tv, so you sit down at the table and wait as they serve brunch in front of you. It’s hashbrowns, steak, and a bowl of assorted fruit. You pick through your food, not super hungry and in the mood for all of it. Nevertheless, you’re sure to thank the avox that serves it to you, and continues to come back around to give you orange juice and coffee.

The arena screen is split into three, which isn’t new. It was like this last night, since there aren't many tributes to focus on at the moment. If there’s only three, you might as well show all of them and what they’re doing. At least one of them has to be doing something mildly interesting.

Tekla is still in her small clearing in the trees, which is fairly close to the dam, now that the gamemakers have marked it on the map. It’s a beautiful place to rest, you’d even picnic there if you had the opportunity. It’s not a good spot, though. It’s too close to the dam, too easy to kill her if and when it breaks. Still, she lays on her back, eyes closed. You can’t tell if she’s awake or not, but you’re going to guess that she is, judging by how her hands are intertwined over her stomach.

If she were sleeping, she’d probably be more annoyed by the sun. Instead, she’s directly under it, which might actually end up giving her a sunburn if she isn’t careful. That’ll be miserable to work with inside of the arena. You can’t even do anything to remedy the burn this far in, except for natural leaves and plants. You can’t think of any off the top of your head that you’ve seen so far.

Sanguin is in the cornucopia, she’s awake and stretching. She doesn’t look tired, despite the fact that it’s obvious that she just got up. Judging by her ratty blonde hair and the way her face twists each time she leans over. She stands up straight, and then grins slightly, turning around and going back inside. She combs through her hair with her fingers and sits on the edge of a box, sword right next to her. Maybe she’s planning on going out hunting today? You hope she doesn’t actually think she’ll get anything out of the village.

Especially with how awful Annie is looking. She’s got her arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled to her chest. The good news is that she looks to be asleep, mouth slightly open, leaned up against the connecting wall in the corner. But she’s got deep purple bags beneath her eyes, she’s only recently fallen asleep. You wonder how long it’ll last before she’s jolting awake.

It’s good that she’s sleeping, with no thanks to the medicine that you sent her. It probably drove her insane into early this morning, like you said would happen last night. You’d say that it’s a good thing, but with the way that Sanguin keeps looking to the village, it’s not. Annie needs to get up and be ready for a fight. Unfortunately, there’s no way you can warn her of this. You’re all out of options.

You finish your food, thank the avoxes, and leave for the betting room. There’s not a lot going on right now, it’s early morning. Everything big that happens in the arena is normally dedicated towards the afternoon to the evening, for the gamemakers at least. As for the tributes, they’re welcome to make and wreak havoc as they please, when they see fit. 

The betting room is quiet and empty when you get down there. Finnick and Gloss are sitting by each other on the couch. You hold the doorknob on the door, carefully setting it against the doorframe so that they won’t hear you. If they thought that you scaring them was bad when they were semi-expecting you, it’s going to be worse when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

You stand behind them for a moment, squinting down at them, wondering if they have the same sixth sense that you do when people are standing over you. Your question is answered when Finnick barely glances over his shoulder, and then jumps three feet in the air when he realizes that they’re not alone. Gloss has the same moment, inhaling sharply.

A laugh erupts from you as you go around the couch to sit on the arm next to Finnick, “You two are too easy.”

“You’re like a fucking ghost, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Gloss says.

“That was on purpose.” you cross a leg beneath your thigh, “Woke up early by accident, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to come down and keep you two company for a little while.”

“Well, the afternoon schedule was nice while it lasted.” Finnick mutters.

Your face twists, you look down at him, “You’re a bad liar. There’s no way you like waking up at midnight and going to bed at noon.”

Finnick tilts his head for a moment, making a face, “I mean…”

You slap the side of his head before he can say anything else, “You don’t have to prove you’re a teenage boy.”

The Morning Line Odds say that everyone is still at where they were yesterday, so there’s no need to take in new information. You’re really just left to sit and wait for anything important to happen inside of the arena. In the meantime, you talk to Finnick and Gloss about the unusual silence. With your guys’ luck, it’s not going to last very long. There’s no way that the gamemakers will allow two normal days in a row.

However, today’s the ninth day of the games. You’re sure they’re going to want to keep it going on for a little while longer, so maybe they will allow fate to be in the tribute’s hands. In that case, you all might as well buckle up for a long day, because it’s going to take hours for Sanguin to make it to Annie, with the pace she’s going right now.

It’s almost ten in the morning when people begin showing up inside of the betting room. All brightly dressed, and particularly chatty this morning. This is when you decide to officially sit between Finnick and Gloss, not wanting the sponsors to see that you’re in a skirt today. Finnick seems happy, which is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Annie wakes up. She jolts, eyes flying open as she reaches for her knife. She gets to her feet without a word, carefully making her way across the bedroom to the window, where she rubs it down to look outside of it. Her eyebrows are drawn together, staring straight at the dam. 

She seems satisfied for a second, gently nodding to herself. She goes to move away, until Sanguin comes into clear view. For half a second, you think to yourself that it’s a good thing that Annie is paranoid, because she just spotted the threat she’s been waiting for. After that, Annie scoops up all of her belongings, not leaving a single trace that she was there, besides the now-clean window.

She carefully goes down the steps, making it to the base floor without falling through the floorboards. Outside, she takes a deep breath, shuts the door and tries to jam some rocks beneath the door to make it harder to open. She tiptoes in grass to make sure that there’s no footprints, makes it a few houses over before she even considers walking through the dirt again.

None of it matters in the end.

A thunderous crack echoes throughout the arena so loudly that it breaks the microphones and makes several people scream out in surprise. You all watch in deafening silence as the dam continues to crack, and water begins to spurt out in large streams.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Today is the day.

You stand from the couch, moving a few feet forward to see better. Finnick and Gloss join you, not a single word passes between you three as you watch in awe. If such small cracks are already sprouting in streams big enough to create rivers, then how will the rest of the water fare? You have no choice but to wait and watch.

The screen is now in four, with one long screen on top completely dedicated to the dam, and three bottom squares for the tributes.

Tekla is on her feet, already rushing down the hill. She’s got no weapons on her hand, no backpack to weigh her down. She’s left it all behind in her peaceful circle in the woods. She whips through bushes, swings around trees, barely makes it over root and rocks on her way down. She’s freaked, struggling to keep her hair out of her face, constantly tucking it behind her ears.

Her feet look like they have a mind of their own, though. With the way that she goes down, it’s almost like she’s dancing, how flowery it is. However, her panic isn’t easily masked. She’s obviously shaking, and sometimes she’ll fuck up and have to catch herself before it’s too late.

Sanguin is standing on top of the hill, everything still on her as she stares at the water making its way towards her. Her eyebrows are pushed together, trying to assess the situation and if it’s worth worrying over. The answer is yes, because it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the concrete blows, and she’s left with a real problem. She slowly turns her back to it, picking up her pace, jogging through the grass. She’s still carrying all of herself.

And finally, Annie is also running through the buildings, just as panicked as Tekla is. The only thing that Annie has is her knife, clutched with white knuckles. She’s as white as a sheet too, breathing heavily through her mouth. You can empathize with her, even if she’s a while away, she knows that she can still be reached.

Another large crack sounds, Tekla slaps her hands over her ears and risks a glance behind her. There’s a jagged horizontal crack that runs from the right side to the left. It’s a matter of time before it goes. The concrete is spider-webbing, developing into a worse problem. Tekla tries to quicken her pace, but there’s only so fast you can go downhill before you risk hurting yourself.

Sanguin has dropped her things, running as fast as she did to catch up with Bauhinia. Her feet slam into the ground, and launch her forward another couple of feet before she’s connecting with the dirt again. She makes it across the second lower clearing, going uphill again. Those hills are going to be an absolute killer when it comes to the water.

The gamemakers are evil. It’s been exactly nine days, ten minutes and forty seconds since the tributes got inside of the arena. You said a week and a half? It hasn’t even been that. They’re in a hurry to get the big event over before one tribute can kill another. Why? Because it’s more fun cheering on the running tributes than watching them kill each other. It’s like betting on a running horse, who’s going to make it to the finish line first?

Annie stops, taking in deep breaths as she watches the dam through a row of trees. She’s able to watch as the final crack breaks the dam open like an egg. Concrete and debris go flying into the trees as the water creates a nasty flattening path through the woods. Almost every tree that the front water initially hits, is uprooted and brought with.

Tekla’s scream is piercing, lasting a couple of seconds before she’s completely cut off. She doesn’t die immediately, you’re able to watch as the water brings her along. She’s suspended in the middle, legs kicking, hands wrapped around her throat. She has half the mind to hold her breath, so that’s good news. The bad is that she’s a quarter mile underwater. There’s no way she’ll make it to the surface in time, if she did know how to swim.

You think you’ll have to watch her drown when she runs out of air, but an entire tree branch goes straight through her back and out the middle of her chest. Bubbles erupt around her face, hands grabbing the wood just before the cannon sounds. One down, three to go.

Sanguin has one more hill to make it up before she’s in the village. Her arms are pumping, face a bright red, her glances over her shoulder are quick and spared. She doesn’t do it often because it slows her down, it’s a brief check to see how far ahead she is in front of the water. And the truth is that it’s catching up on her. Just like you said, the hills are a nightmare.

Not only because she has to run up them, which tires her out more. But because the water gains momentum and unpredictability with every hill it surges over. The water doesn't seem to endlessly pour out of the dam, though. It seems like the gamemakers had a prepared forcefield. They just wanted to let out a controlled amount of water. Big enough to kill a couple of tributes before it thinned out and became a minimal threat.

Sanguin starts uphill the same moment the water hits the hill just behind her. Down it goes for a couple of seconds, before it’s surging above her in a giant wave. Sanguin makes it into the village, running beneath the roofs as if it’ll protect her from the water. She runs straight for a while, before starting to zig zag towards the corner. 

She must realize that it’s not worth it, and that the diagonal running only slows her down, because she goes back to running straight, heading closer and closer to where Annie had been staying. 

Speaking of which, Annie’s on the run again. You can tell that she’s keeping track of the height of the water. Even though the houses are decades old, they seem to be slowing down the water, since they’re all individually filling up inside. Sanguin doesn’t seem too focused on the fact, mostly wanting distance. She’s almost on the brink of losing it, though. Her steps are getting sloppier the more she goes.

Annie goes around a corner and into an alleyway, effectively blocking the water from her sight. It’s stupid, she’s not going to be able to keep track of it the same way she has. Sanguin has a point when it comes to running straight away from the water.

And then she starts climbing the walls. With how narrow the walkway is, she can scoot her way up little by little. It burns a lot of her time, and cranks up your anxiety, watching her do this. You know that she’s trying to get herself above the tide now. The houses where she’s at, are at least two stories tall each, not counting the roof.

Annie grabs the gutters, using her arms to pull her onto the red-orange shingles. You get a glimpse from where she’s at now to see that the water is lower, but she’ll still have to swim, even if she gets onto the high point of the roof. She takes one last look at her knife before she frisbee’s it to her right, making sure that it’s far away from her when the water does come.

Sanguin is losing ground. Soon, she’ll be stuck swimming too. It seems like that their times are lining up. Annie bends her knees, cracks her fingers, prepares her arms. Sanguin’s glances get more and more frequent, anticipating the moment the water hits her.

Annie dives straight in, letting the water welcome her. She doesn’t waste time, swimming straight to the top. Her face is serious, she has her eyes locked on the surface, kicking her legs hard, arm over head. While Sanguin holds her breath, fingers squeezing her nose shut, eyes following the structures in front of her. She narrowly misses the wall of the first house, before slamming right into the neck.

Just like with Tekla, there’s a large burst of bubbles. Sanguin struggles now, trying to swim to the top. She makes a few inches at a time, but it’s hardly noticeable, or comparable with how well Annie is doing. In fact, she’s reached the surface already, inhaling loudly.

The water directs Sanguin into a wall again, this time her head cracks against the wall. The water turns a light shade around her head, and it’s minutes before the cannon finally sounds. Which signals the water to drain, lowering Annie onto a roof nearby.

Her dark hair is stuck to her face and neck, clothes completely drenched. Her mouth is slightly parted, breathing loudly.

You grab onto Finnick’s arm, “Oh my god.”

“Congratulations, guys.” Gloss has got a grin on his face, he slaps you on the back.

“She did it.” you say, “Annie’s done it!”

Claudius Templesmith’s, the announcer, voice comes over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, from District Four, Annie Cresta!”

Annie’s face drains of color again, before it’s bursting in red, “I win.” she murmurs at first, barely audible, before tears of relief are filling her eyes. Much louder, this time she screams; “I win!”

--

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

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[ginger-snapled]

It was shaping up to be just another regular night on the clock. There were the usuals sipping their poison of taste and sliding dollars over like it somehow made them special. Then the newbs, you could always tell which ones were stopping in for the first time. Typically, they had two other ‘buddies’ with them, egging them on and making crude comments trying to eek a blushed reaction from said Newb. And more often than not succeeding, which always meant whichever girl was closest received the blunt end of rude commentary and a couple $20s slipped over by Newb with an apologetic smile. Max stood at the door, arms crossed, surveying the crowd as an ever-looming presence that would likely snap your neck almost as quickly as he could ask you to leave. There was no need to feel unsafe with his calculating glare keeping tabs.

“I need you in room two.” The night manager, Jax, appeared next to me from what I could only assume was shadow walking as I hadn’t heard a single movement.

“It’s Amber’s night. And AJ’s backup.” I protested, scanning the crowd in mild confusion. None of the ‘regulars’ of mine were here so there wasn’t any reason for me to run a room on my off night.

“Yea well…Amber’s already been in there. As has AJ” Jax grunted shaking his head. “Candie, Brit, Celine, and Angel too if you’re wondering. I went through the list of everyone scheduled tonight before coming to you. I’m not stupid.”

One of the perks of being more ‘established’ here was that even the managers knew better than to send you in for tasks not on your day’s schedule. Gone were the nights of doing whatever was said in order to make money and keep making it. My face must have betrayed my shock as the names were rattled off because Jax quickly kept on before I could object.

“N-not like that. No. Fuck no. We’d have asked him to leave if that was the case. No” He paused giving me a side eye. “He said he’s just here looking for some relaxation but for whatever reason he keeps dismissing them. Candie was asked to leave before she’d even made it all the way through the door…you can imagine her reaction to that sort of ego pop.”

We both snickered as I could absolutely imagine it, Candie was one of those women who believed she was a gift to human kind and acted accordingly. If you didn’t worship her existence there wasn’t much point to yours. “All right…” I gave in, pulling my jacket off and handing it over. “But I’m skipping out on it being my room Wednesday. You’ll have to find someone to fill in.”

Jax took my jacket with a grateful sigh, clearly relieved though I couldn’t understand why. “Okay…look…you get him to commit to his hour reservation payment and I’ll take you off the room for two rotations. Dude’s offered a couple grand cash if we can offer this ‘relaxation’ he’s after and clearly run of the mill strip tease and CandieCane blow jobs isn’t it…”

Ah…there it was. The ever-present money motivator. I chuckled, giving Jax a thumbs up as I made my way to the room. I wouldn’t say it out loud but I had to admit I wanted to know who was in the room. I didn’t hold too much hope that I’d keep his attention, while I know I’m above average in the looks department I definitely think at least two of the others rank above me. And he’d dismissed them.

I knocked, entering without waiting for invitation, and glanced around. The room was as it always was, comfortable seats on one side, small private stage and pole directly in front, a little table where drinks rested. And an unassuming man who lounged in one of the chairs. I’d never seen him before but judging by his relaxed demeanor he wasn’t among the newbs, and the causal jeans and t-shirt he sported pegged him far lower on the corporate chain than most men using this room.

“Evening.” I offered sweetly, starting towards the stage. “I’ll be stepping in for your entertainment. If there’s anything you want or need don’t hesitate to let me know.”

He hadn’t stopped me in the door way, though I felt his eyes move over my clothing and tried not to feel self-conscious. Jax would die if he knew I hadn’t changed before going to ‘work’ and instead popped in wearing my street clothes. Which today consisted of yoga pants, a sports bra, and an off the shoulder sheer shirt. I’d had the good sense to kick my shoes off at the door but otherwise I probably looked like the plainest woman around.

I placed my phone on the speaker, setting the playlist and making my way to the pole. I preferred dancing to instrumental music, lyrics tending to get in the way of intention and vision. It’s easy to get into the movements of dancing when it’s not for anyone other than myself, usually not a problem for me. But tonight was different because of Jax’s urgency that this work…and the man barely even glancing my way.

I’m not sure how he dismissed any of the other ladies working tonight because not once did I catch his eyes on me, not a single twist or bend. He didn’t seem to notice when my shirt landed on the floor, nor did he bat an eye as I slowly peeled off my yoga pants one leg at a time. (Yes girls, there’s a sexy way to do this). No…he spent the entire time staring at the lit square screen in the palm of his hand, sipping his drink. I should have been happy that he hadn’t sent me out. This is what Jax had wanted. This was what I was supposed to be doing. But I couldn’t be happy about it because the jackass hadn’t given me enough of a look over to even KNOW whether he wanted me to stay or not. I made it through 7 songs before frustration got the better of me.

My bra lay on the stage with the rest of my clothes and I found myself hopping off and all but stomping to this man without realizing it. ‘get your ass back up there and keep your mouth shut’ I could hear Jax all but screaming in my mind.

“Am I boring you?” Too late. My head-space Jax fainted as the man finally looked up at me, dark eyes blankly assessing.

The only part of me not naked was the thin line of a lace thong, the rest of me was bared a mere foot from him. I’d been naked in front of plenty of men but for some reason the fact he’d all but ignored me up until now made my nakedness new all over. My breasts reacted sharply to this arousal, nipples perking up, and he must have noticed because immediately his lips parted in a proud smirk.

“Yes.” Was all he offered, staring at me for a moment, then looking back to the screen in his hand.

I stared at him, disbelief that made me impulsive and frankly frustrated. And a little wet.

“Then what can I do to make you NOT bored?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level. He laughed.

“Ha. Doll face…does a chef at a michellin star restaurant ask his customer what he can do to make the food not boring?” He still didn’t look at me. “No. The customer is paying for a meal that should be divine based on the reputation of the restaurant. Either you’re a chef who knows how to do their job. Or you might want to go back to waitressing.”

That was it. He never once looked back up. But he also hadn’t dismissed me. ‘Go back to the stage, give him this dumbass meal he’s paid for and leave it be.’ Inner Jax had come to enough to start ordering me again. But I was too heated by now. This customer had been dismissive of everyone on staff, dismissive of ME, and now basically insinuated I needed a different job since I was incompetent in mine. Or so I heard.

I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how it happened, but one moment I was standing in front of him demanding to know if I was boring and the next I had straddled myself over his leg. I began grinding my clit against him with the beat of the song and took his free hand to hold my breast. He didn’t bat an eye which only made me grind harder. Desperate now for him to show he noticed at all. But he didn’t.

I kept pressing my clit against him, grinding harder on his leg as a wet spot began to grow on his jeans. The roughness of the fabric only teased my thighs farther and I knew I was dripping. I wanted him to pinch my nipples, slide a finger into my wetness, anything to show he noticed the ache that had grown. But he didn’t. My breathing got deeper the longer I used his thigh to tease myself, the hand resting on my breast did nothing to alleviate my desires and I could feel the pleasure building within me.

“Do not cum.”

He hadn’t looked at me, but he’d finally spoken again. Only this time it was to deny the very thing I wanted so desperately. And like hell I was going to listen to the jackass who hadn’t paid a single bit of attention to me all evening. AND had called me boring.

I came. Hard. Wetness spilling out of me and soaking onto his jeans. A delicious intensity of pleasure that rocked my core and released the tension his rude words had given me.

“Now look what you’ve done…I hope you’re ready to pay for that.”

His tone was teasing, full of wicked promise, and I realized he was no longer staring at the phone. I also realized I’d missed something crucial during my intensely pleasure-filled orgasm.

There was a bulge between his legs, straining to break the jeans away…and his free hand had slid up to my throat.

[vivaciouseats]

It's been such a hot summer that my garden is producing overtime!! 🥕🥦🥒 I've had to find out which recipes I can make to use the most of my produce in each meal which has lead me to try several new recipes! I decided to make an spicy peanut stew because I've never eaten or made any African cuisine and it turned out wonderfully! Definitely will stay in my regular rotation 💯 .. This African peanut stew is made with pantry goods like peanut butter, tomato paste, and canned diced tomatoes plus fresh pea pods, cabbage, and kale from my garden!

[amerasdreams]

I have been listening to True Spies podcast on Spotify. It’s apparently connected to a thing called Spyscape, which has a museum/experience thing in New York. They also have an online test for your personality and intelligence.... well those intelligence tests all of course have to do with math. and they are TIMED. somehow I got thru guessing most of them.... didn’t score 0 but didn’t score great. 

so guess what I scored on intelligence!  and personality scores mean I’m more prone to health problems and being unhappy.... :( 

(here I woke up thinking I can be uniquely me, I don’t want to be like anyone else anyway, I can embrace that... but how can I when what I am is this pathetic)

I shouldn’t have done this, I know what these tests do, make me discouraged and hate myself more. they even said I’m not imaginative and creative-- things I value most besides intelligence (and intuition/empathy...) 

they did say the “spy role” I was most suited for, which is what I’m most interested in, intelligence analyst. But in the more “practical” side, for jobs, it mentioned medical things, technical things, which I wouldn’t be good at and don’t like, business marketing-- working for a business I don’t care about, a job with no meaning....  it even had mathematician! when I’m obviously not good at math. the only jobs I might be interested in are psychologist/criminologist... idk.... to late for me to get any career anyway, let alone somehow what I really want

they did a risk assessment, where you blow up the balloon before it pops to get “money” - yesterday I started it and panicked when the balloon popped the first time and closed the window. then when I was walking the dogs it occured to me it was a test lol and I would just have to keep risking popping the balloon... so today I saw it as more of a game and not the ‘scary balloon popping oh no I lost money!” -not even real money. idk about fun.... all these things were stressful esp the intelligence test. 

today I started the test, thinking it might help me, get insight into what I can do, instead, it discouraged me, I’m what I thought, mediocre and not suited for much, they only gave a “role” to me because they had to give me something. It said the intelligence analyst is inquisitive--when it just said I wasn’t -  idk how this even fits with the test bc analytical? that wasn’t one of the dimensions and doesn’t seem like I scored high on implied analytical powers, same with determined-- 

how can i live with myself being like this, having no role and no future according to any dimension that really counts. don’t want to be plodding away at menial tasks when I want to do something Imaginative, Creative, Intellectual-- ha can’t even do that

oh I’m proving them right, easily stressed and sensitive and reactive -- 

I’m not including the risk assessment bc I don’t think it’s accurate-- I’m really very risk averse in all cases... oh we know that already so. 

~

results (bold/parentheses is mine)

MENTAL HORSEPOWER

Unlike Alan Turing would, you scored moderately low {yay!:(} on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that, on the whole, you struggle with complex mathematical and analytical problems. {so how can I be an analyst?} That said, you can usually spot patterns and find links in data – as long as the information you have been given isn’t too abstract. (I like big picture things.... abstract things... apparently I’m not good at it)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with a moderately low Mental Horsepower score, you are more likely to ‘go with your gut’ when making decisions rather than to apply logic and reason (that’s true.... logic is mystifying. fits with being INFP-- logic is my weakest point). It is unlikely that you will sit down and win a game of chess, and you probably rely on your satnav rather than read a map yourself. (yep.... chess is too much strategy... I can’t see ahead like that .. hm how could I be an analyst)

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are not a very conceptual thinker, you are better in roles where you can do things ‘automatically’ rather than applying any abstract reasoning skills. You are not bad at visual-spatial or mathematical tests though, and with training and practice, your skills will definitely improve.

THE SCIENCE

Mental Horsepower relates to our general cognitive ability and our capacity to think about, reason with, and understand abstract concepts. It particularly links to analytical and mathematical skills, but also covers memory, comprehension, language, learning capacity and judgement. These are hugely significant skills for success at work and in everyday life.

Psychologists have developed all kinds of tests to measure cognitive ability. Some of these involve predicting outcomes from patterns in data (also known as inductive reasoning), while others focus on mentally flipping and rotating images. We use both of these approaches in our Mental Horsepower tests at SPYSCAPE.

Recent neuroimaging research shows that intelligence is linked to brain patterns, and that these patterns are unique to each of us (meaning you can’t change them :(  )– much like our fingerprints. In one study, these brain ‘fingerprints’ were used to successfully predict people’s scores in IQ tests.

While IQ tests are probably the most common method for determining cognitive ability, there is some debate over whether they provide a complete picture. For example, theories suggest that there are many different types of intelligence which are not accounted for in these tests. Still, it is generally accepted that people who score highly on tests of cognitive ability are on the whole better at completing intelligence-related (so that career’s out... if it was ever in lol) tasks in the real world.

~

COMPOSURE

Unlike Jason Bourne, you scored extremely low (low on everything! what a wonderful person!) on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that you are far more vulnerable to stressors than most people (I knew that). You are likely to have a very strong emotional reaction to negative events and your brain becomes highly active when you see something you perceive as unpleasant (like this test!). Although this means you find it hard to relax, it also means you are really tuned in to your surroundings ( and what’s the upside of that? nice consolation prize....)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with extremely low levels of composure, you are highly likely to experience anxiety and burnout. (with things that aren’t really stressful to anyone else. just stepping outside. just being inside-- doing thigns like this.. doing most things actually-- help how can i live) You can be far too critical of yourself (well how do i stop? if this is how I am like), especially when you are stressed (which is almost all the time), and this can make it tricky for you to overcome problems (which is never, which is why I’m still living w my parents). You also dwell on the past far more than people with high composure.

On the positive side, you are responsive to your environment, which means you are more likely to anticipate negative outcomes and find ways to avoid them (like almost everything). You are also sensitive and caring, and your observant nature means you look out for yourself and the people close to you. (what’s the point of that when you can’t do anything, or get to know new people)

IN YOUR WORK

It is unlikely your colleagues will turn to you when there is an emergency or crisis at work. This is because you struggle to keep your emotions in check, and challenging situations can get the better of you. When this happens, you are not great at maintaining focus or making tough decisions.

THE SCIENCE

Composure relates to how our brains respond to stress. In tense situations, your brain activates an area called the hypothalamus, which releases adrenalin and cortisol – also known as stress hormones.

A bit of stress now and then is important for survival, because it alerts us to the dangers around us. Small amounts can be useful, but too much over a long period of time is bad for our health (oh goody). Studies show that the adrenal cortex, the part of the brain that releases stress hormones, is also linked to the healthy function of our immune system – and people who are more prone to stress are also more likely to get sick.

There is also a connection between composure and working (short-term) memory. Composed people perform better on tasks where they need to recall and use relevant information while they’re doing something else – for example remembering the steps of a recipe when cooking a meal.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN COMPOSURE ARE

LAID-BACK

RELAXED

COOL

FOCUSED

POISED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN COMPOSURE ARE

EMOTIONAL

SENSITIVE

PERCEPTIVE

RESPONSIVE

VIGILANT

~

Contentiousness

Unlike diligent Mission: Impossible hero Isla Faust, you scored moderately low on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that unlike Isla, you find it difficult to keep focused on long-term goals {Idk about this. goals are all i focus on.... well. I think about them often but Idk how to create the steps to get there and so things fizzle out and I get-- discouraged what else is new). You get distracted or bored quite quickly and are often drawn to new ideas and projects instead of finishing what you are currently doing (well.... hm. I finish novels...). You understand what is important in life, but you sometimes skip the details. (I’m not a detail person... I can be but they often seem irrelevant)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Because you prefer not to a follow a schedule, hobbies that require regular training are not for you. In fact, your interests change quite regularly, and you find long-term commitment a challenge whatever the activity. Friends and family know that if they want you to do something, they need to encourage you to get organized. When they press you, however, you do things pretty well.

IN YOUR WORK

You take a relatively flexible approach to work. As such, you get distracted easily and do not always complete the task in hand. Because of your tendency to do this, you are likely to change jobs – and perhaps even career – fairly regularly (I want variety... Idk, this sort of fits, sort of doesn’t).

THE SCIENCE

Conscientiousness shapes how likely you are to follow rules, regulate your own behavior and get yourself organized. The more conscientious you are, the more motivated by goals and tasks you are likely to be.

According to what psychologists call the ‘Big-5’ model, conscientiousness is a core dimension of personality – and one of the five key traits that drive human behavior. Whether you are high or low in conscientiousness can help predict your success in social, academic and professional situations.

If you have high levels of conscientiousness, you are probably more productive and better at adapting to new situations (that’s true, I’m not) that come your way. However, this does not mean that being conscientious is always a good thing, because research also shows that being too conscientious can lead to overthinking. (I do that too...)

Some studies suggest that people who are more conscientious are healthier – and they might even live longer. This might be because conscientious people are more likely to exercise regularly, eat healthily, and avoid smoking or drinking too much alcohol.

It’s hard to say where conscientiousness comes from. One study found a link with areas of the brain relating to attention and cognitive control. There is also evidence to suggest that genes play their part. It’s likely that social factors such as your upbringing influence how conscientious you are, too.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

HIGH-ACHIEVING

ACCOUNTABLE

THOROUGH

DRIVEN

SELF-DISCIPLINED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

IMPULSIVE

FLEXIBLE

EASY-GOING

SPONTANEOUS

ADAPTABLE

(I think I’m sort of this, sort of not because I’m borderline INFP -- P is flexible, impulsive while J is more structured-- I’m slightly more Perceiving. goes to show Myers-Briggs is pretty good at describing personality accurately....)

~

INQUISITIVENESS

Unlike Carrie Mathison in Homeland, you scored moderately low on this attribute. Your score was driven by your performance in the personality tests, and it suggests that you are pretty cautious about new ideas, beliefs, cultures and theories.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people who scored moderately low on this attribute, you are not so willing to take on board other people’s views (that’s true). You will consider what people have to say, but you are likely to stick with your own opinion. You feel more comfortable in familiar situations and surroundings (well, yes...), and you do not really feel the need to explore new places (I kind of do, though... I want to but I often... don’t. because it’s too hard).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you aren’t motivated to learn or acquire new skills (Idk about this... depends on if it’s something I’m interested in. I’m learning like 15 languages on Duolingo...), you are less likely to seek out new opportunities at work. And the longer you stay in a job, the worse your motivation is likely to get. In general, you tend to perform better when you start a new position, although you will carry this out using the same approach you always have, rather than approach it in a new way. You like real-world, practical work that has straightforward solutions.

THE SCIENCE

Inquisitiveness is an important trait for discovering new things and building a better understanding of people and of the world around us. Psychologists have developed tools for assessing and measuring how inquisitive a person is.

These are based on extensive research into personality and are designed to evaluate five facets related to inquisitiveness: (i) intellectual curiosity; (ii) aesthetic sensitivity; (iii) active imagination; (iv) attentiveness to inner feelings and; (v) preference for variety.

Furthermore, personality researchers have identified two types of inquisitiveness; ‘epistemic’, which refers to information seeking ( I think I’m more information seeking?) behaviour and ‘perceptual’, which refers to experience seeking.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

CURIOUS

OPEN-MINDED

IMAGINATIVE AND INVENTIVE

CREATIVE

ADAPTIVE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

PRACTICAL

CONSISTENT

TRADITIONAL

HABITUAL

PRAGMATIC

~

SOCIABILITY

A bit like Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, you scored extremely low (yay. well I knew this... and from answering the questions... )on this attribute, which suggests that you prefer to spend time alone and keep yourself to yourself. You avoid parties, meet-ups and other noisy gatherings because you find them overwhelming (wayyyy). If you really have to socialize, you need plenty of quiet time afterwards to help you rest and recharge.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like others with an extremely low sociability score, you don’t like being the center of attention and often struggle to start conversations. You think a lot before speaking and regularly find it hard to express your thoughts and ideas. Because of this, you often let others do the talking, and you don’t take part in small talk either. This behavior means you might come across as socially reactive, and people may think you only talk to them when you feel you really have to (as in, extremely negative, and I shouldn’t exist. although... i do talk to them if I have to.... haha I do take part in small talk because I think I have to. or people will think I’m rude. but I don’t like it. I’m sensitive to how I’m perceived and don’t want to be seen as too antisocial, but I talk to others out of fear not of want... yikes. no wonder no one wants to be around me. well I don't want to be around them. well - I want to be around people I know well. for limited amounts of time... need less to recharge from people I know than strangers. I want to be with them, I don’t want to be with strangers-- it’s only stress and not fun at all. but how do i get past the stranger part to the friend part if I don’t like being with strangers and it’s all stressful adn overwhelming? How do i participate in society, have people to talk to, have any sort of success??? - shouldn't exist.).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are more comfortable working independently (please. HOW???? besides working for myself... haha can’t work for anyone else bc can’t get past the interview, these ^ traits are obvious and not something any employer in their right mind wants), you will be more productive – and much happier – managing your own workload, tackling problems alone, and avoiding company brainstorms and powwows.

THE SCIENCE

How sociable you are can be linked to your levels of happiness, positivity, and wellbeing. In fact, sociability relates to a variety of positive outcomes in life, including how successful you are at work, how well you cope with challenging situations, and even how physically and mentally healthy you are. (yay. I’m doomed. I might as well kill myself now)

People who are highly sociable are more positive emotionally (case in point!) than those who are less sociable. In one brain imaging study, people with a high sociability score had higher levels of brain activity when they saw images of happy faces and other positive emotions.

The same part of the brain that processes emotions also helps interpret information from social contexts, which means we can judge a social situation and then respond appropriately (social situations, like math problems and logic, are mystifying to me. yay the things that are highest linked to success--).

There is some evidence to suggest that highly sociable people might be better at detecting and decoding the meaning of social cues –  including how they analyze and read people’s faces (oh, I know that. I have a hard time judging people’s faces, in fact I often think they are mad at me or judging me by their faces when they probably aren’t. I even have trouble finding out what emotions go with what emoji! besides the basics. i mean why, how are there so many emojis....). This means they are likely to find social interaction easier to deal with than others (lol yes. it’s . not easy. why. do i have to be born like this. always been. hell..).

There is also research to suggest that highly sociable people have more connections between regions of the brain that involve visual stimulus and regions that process social and emotional stimuli. (brains are better, we get it)

Sociability might also be associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which is linked to reward-seeking behavior. It is thought that people who are highly sociable may have an enhanced response to dopamine in the brain, which makes them pursue rewards such as attention, status, power or pleasure. This would explain why, when they get these things, they feel happier or more satisfied.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN SOCIABILITY ARE

TALKATIVE

FRIENDLY

ENTHUSIASTIC

ENERGETIC

EXCITABLE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN SOCIABILITY ARE

QUIET

RESERVED

INTROSPECTIVE

PRIVATE

SHY

^ ALLL negative attributes, I need to just kill myself now, no future. 

[let-it-raines]

Emma’s never cared about holidays or cliched traditions like kissing someone at midnight on New Year’s Eve. What she would like, however, is for her boyfriend to at least be in the same city so she could have the option. 

found on ao3 | here | ; word count: ~ 2,700 

-/-

“Twenty.” “That’s what you’re going with? An even twenty?”

“Aye.”

“When has it ever been an even number? That’s too neat.”

“I’m a neat man.”

“You’re a stupid man is what you are.”

“Now, Swan, you’re supposed to kill people with kindness, not insults.”

Emma huffs and grabs her beanie off of her desk and tugs it down over her ears, adjusting her bun so that it doesn’t tug at her head. “You don’t get to say that when you were an asshole to me last night.” “I was not an asshole.”

“You were.” 

“Love, you call me asshole more than you call me by my own name.”

“That’s because I’m a romantic.”

Killian chuckles, and Emma doesn’t fight the urge to roll of her eyes. Of course he would laugh at that. Of course. But she doesn’t blame him. She’s not a romantic. It’s not that she’s never tried or doesn’t want to be one – though some days she really doesn’t – but she doesn’t know how to do it. It’s not in her DNA, and her version of romantic is nothing more than eating the meal Killian wants and then cuddling on the couch or listening to him tell her some story she’s already heard at least two times. It never feels like enough, but he always tells her that it is.

He’s much better at things like planning date nights and picking out perfect gifts and romantic gestures, both grand and small, and her being good at those things is probably never going to be in the cards.

“So twenty calls asking you to come check out the illegal fireworks because people can’t seem to wait for the city-approved show over the harbor?”

“I’m going to go with thirty-three,” Emma finally says, grabbing her gloves and tugging them onto her hands. “It was twenty-nine last year.”

“Ah, yes, and people have become crazier this year then?”

“Exactly.”

There’s a moment of silence and then another, and Emma drops down into her desk chair, flopping on the leather. She should really go and meet David and get ready to do patrol, but she doesn’t want to, not yet.

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Killian says, his voice soft and quiet as it comes over her phone’s speaker. “Please be safe out there tonight.”

“Always, KJ,” she promises just like she does before every shift. “I love you, too. Happy New Year. I hope you have fun at Robin’s party while you guys stay inside to watch the ball drop when you’re twenty minutes away from Time’s Square.”

He breathes out through his nose with his laugh. “I’m sure I’ll be home and in bed before the clock strikes midnight. It’s too cold to be out like that.”

“That’s because you’re the oldest twenty-eight-year-old in the world.”

“No, it’s because I have to be up in the morning for my rounds. I’m starting in a new department, remember?”

“I know, I know.” “Emma,” David calls out, and she snaps her head up to look at David across the bullpen, “it’s time to go.”

“I’ll be right there,” she says to David before standing from her seat. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, love.”

“That your big, fancy New York boyfriend?”

“Shut it, Scarlet,” Emma mumbles, ignoring Will and his teasing smirk to walk toward David.

“So it was him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Tell him to bring some more of those bagels next time he comes to visit. That was a real thoughtful gesture.”

Emma huffs and keeps ignoring Will to walk toward David, pushing past him to go out the front doors of the station so she can start her patrol shift and get this night over with.

Happy New Year and all that.

-/-

“What number call is that?”

“Nine.”

“That’s pretty low for the night.”

“Yeah, well, it is only eight. We’ve still got hours to go and several people who don’t care to follow the fireworks law.”

David hums and turns the wheel of the SUV so they can get out of downtown Boston and move toward North End. Holidays are always the craziest nights of the years for them. It’s triple the regular crazy, especially with the amount of drunk drivers they pull over, but all in all, holidays are some of Emma’s favorite nights of the year, even if she has to work through them. And she’s worked pretty much every holiday for the past five years. She’s not married, doesn’t have kids, doesn’t have parents, and there’s no reason for her to not offer to take a shift so that someone who wants to spend time with their family can have the day off.

(She can take her days off on other days where stores are actually open and she can get delivery without feeling guilty that the delivery guy is working.)

Emma’s never had a reason to want to spend holidays with people or to want to have the day off, but then she met Killian last year at the Nolan’s fourth of July barbecue (which actually happened on the sixth, but whatever), and she wants to have a day off to spend time with him.

But that doesn’t work anyways. She’s in Boston, he’s in New York, and their schedules don’t match up for holidays. Random weekends and Emma using her vacation days in the middle of the week, sure, but holidays, not so much.

God, she misses him.

“Why are you staring out the window?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why are you staring out the window?” David repeats. “You’re looking all starry eyed and such.”

Emma snaps out of her thoughts and adjusts her position in her seat until she’s turning the sound of David’s podcast down. He’s listening to one on how to keep your rooftop garden intact, and of all of his podcasts, this is the one she’s least interested in.

“Nothing. I think I’m just tired. Can we stop for a coffee next time we pass a shop?”

“Sure. No problem.”

David doesn’t question her more or bother her for the rest of her shift. Either he knows she doesn’t want to talk about it or is so damn oblivious that he doesn’t realize there’s something she might want to talk about, but Emma isn’t going to complain, not when the shift keeps going by as quickly as humanly possible.

They make traffic stops and deal with phone calls about loud music and illegal fireworks (they’re at twenty-one now) and drink copious amounts of coffee as Emma keeps yawning.

(She also eats two giant bear claws, but she doesn’t really like falling into the stereotype of cops simply sitting around drinking coffee and eating donuts.)

At two minutes until midnight, the world quiets for a bit, everyone captivated by watching the ball drop on television or settling around the harbor for city-approved fireworks that knock your socks off with the view. Or maybe they’re all too busy drinking or finding someone to kiss. That’s what David is doing. The kiss part. Not the drinking on the job. That’d get him fired.

Mary Margaret meets them in the parking lot of a gas station, and she and David stand close together in the cold, flakes of snow falling down around them as they talk and laugh until fireworks go off at midnight so they can kiss like the cheesy, sentimental fools that they are.

The sentimental fools who are in love enough that Mary Margaret would come out in the cold just to kiss her husband at midnight when she could kiss him when he got home.

Emma’s cheeks heat with blush when she realizes that she’s watching them, and she quickly turns away and looks down at her phone to open up her texts. Killian hasn’t texted her back for an hour or so now, and she knows that he’s asleep. He’s always falling asleep early in order to wake up early, whether he has work or not, and it kind of drives her crazy.

“I like to watch the sun rise, love. It’s a beautiful beginning to my day every time, but not as beautiful as you.”

“I can’t tell if that was cheesy or romantic.”

“Both. Definitely both.”

He may not see it, but she texts him anyways.

Emma: Happy New Year! 😘

“Happy New Year, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, popping up next to Emma’s window and scaring the absolute shit out of her. “I brought you guys some grilled cheese sandwiches to keep you warm.”

“You’re an actual saint.”

“That’s the goal.”

Emma laughs, and it’s not a fake one despite the heavy pit in her stomach, and accepts the foil wrapped sandwiches from Mary Margaret. “Thank you, Marg. Now go home and be safe, okay?”

“The same to you guys. Enjoy the sandwiches.”

-/-

It’s a quarter until five when she walks in the front door of her apartment. The lights are dimmed, her black-out curtains pulled in preparation for the sun rising, and after a night that never seemed to end toward the last few hours of her shift, she’s finally home and ready to go to sleep.

She didn’t wear makeup today, so that means she can go to sleep without washing her face and brushing her teeth, right? (Emma knows that it’s gross, but she doesn’t care.

She’ll brush her teeth three times tomorrow.)

Toeing her shoes off and dropping her keys and her wallet onto the entryway table, Emma starts moving in her apartment only to hear the creaking of footsteps on the other side of her place.

Shit.

Quickly, she turns on her heels and moves to find something, anything to use as a weapon. Her police-issued gun is in her locker at the precinct and the one she keeps at home is in her bedside drawer. All she can see that would be of any use is a knife she left on the counter, so she grabs that and walks toward the sound, praying and hoping it was her imagination but knowing it wasn’t.

Then the lights in the hallway flicker on.

“Swan.”

And suddenly Killian is standing in front of her in nothing other than a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants, his hipbones showing and the little trail of hair she knows so well disappearing beneath the material. He blinks, and so does she. This can’t be real. It can’t. He should be in his shitty apartment in Queens with his obnoxious roommate, and he should be fast asleep so he can be up early for his first day in his new rotation for his residency.

He shouldn’t be here.

He can’t be here.

But he is.

After placing the knife down, Emma practically catapults herself forward until she’s running into him and slamming her lips into his. Her hands quickly move from his shoulders up into his hair, and while Killian still seems to still be in shock from her jumping on him.

He’s in her apartment when he’s not supposed to be. What did he expect? 

But then his mouth is warmly moving over hers, minty toothpaste she was going to avoid invading her senses, and his arm is wrapping over her entire back until his hand is in her hair, tugging her closer and pulling her body flush against his. Everything about him is warm, from his hips to his chest to his lips, and she doesn’t want to leave him. She can’t. It’s been five weeks since she last saw him, five weeks since she last got to feel the softness of his lips and the scratchy roughness of his beard, and she’s consumed by him.

All she wants is him, always.

(And he’s a damn good kisser, so that’s a definite plus.)

“How are you here?” she giggles out, pressing her lips into his cheek.

“I traded shifts around, worked a million graveyards and doubles and worked my ass off until I could get a few days off.”

“I mean,” she laughs, brushing her lips against his left cheek now while her hands trail down over his back, scratching into his skin. He smells so much like him and the body wash that he left a bottle of in her apartment. “What?”

“I lied about my schedule to surprise you. I – ”

She kisses him again. Her entire body is alight with happiness, all of the tiredness fading away and being replaced by the energy of a two-year-old on a sugar high, and she absolutely cannot believe this.

“I don’t care how. Just that you are.”

Killian chuckles and pulls back from the kiss to press his forehead against hers, his nose squishing into her cheek while his prosthetic rubs over her back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a kiss at midnight. My plan couldn’t quite figure that out.”

“Please, they’re overrated. Five in the morning is much better.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I love you, you know?”

“I do know, Swan. I’m absolutely in love with you too.” His lips move over hers, slow and thorough until a heat is curling deep in her belly and until her skin is covered in goosebumps. “Hey, how many calls did you get about illegal fireworks tonight?”

“Thirty-seven.” “Ah, so we were both wrong.” “Yeah, but I was a hell of a lot closer.”

Killian leans his head back with laughter, and Emma moves to nuzzle herself there, running her lips across his skin in hot, open-mouthed kisses. She might not feel tired, but she probably needs to go to sleep. Killian likely does too, but right now, she can’t think of anything other than stripping him out of his clothes and straddling his lap.

It’s exactly what she does, what they both do. Neither of them can stop laughing, joy and excitement still overflowing, but they do manage to strip each other out of their clothes until there’s a pile at her bedroom down. Killian’s lips leave warm marks against her jaw, her collarbone, her breasts, and her nails scratch down his back until they’re stumbling onto the bed and Emma is crawling over Killian.

He stretches her when he enters hers, and she sighs at the fullness of having him inside of her again. This isn’t a feeling that can be replicated, and seeing the look on Killian’s face – a mixture of pure bliss and desire for more – is priceless. Absolutely priceless.

She cannot believe he’s here.

That he did this to see her.

Stupid, wonderful man.

Emma controls the strokes at first, keeping the slow and deep so that Killian’s nails are digging into the her hip and his brows are pinched together in pleasure, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. It’s too slow, and as slow and careful as some of their reunions can be, what she needs now is fast and desperate, a quick coming together so that her heartbeat is elevated and her body is humming in pleasure.

Killian gives all of that to her more.

Afterwards, when the sweat is cooling on their skin and the night sky is fading away into the barest hints of sunlight outside, Emma kisses Killian’s chest over the small smattering of bird tattoos that reside there. He had them before they met, and Killian jokes about it being some kind of sign that he either had to fall in love with a woman with the last name of a bird or give up being a doctor to go off and study ornithology.

(The tattoos are for his mother, but he rarely likes to talk about that.)

“I’m sorry I didn’t come up with a grand romantic gesture for you,” Emma whispers while running her hands through the thick tufts of hair in his chest.

“Yeah, well,” Killian whispers, pulling her closer in his arms before he tucks her hair behind her ear, “you’re all I need anyways.”

-/-

His placement for his fellowship the next year is in Boston, and both of them have off for New Year’s. It’s practically a miracle.

They’re both asleep before midnight.

It’s okay. Kisses at five in the morning are better.

They’re also far more frequent since they now live together.

(Finally.)

-/-

-/-

Happy New Year, everyone ❤️🎉

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