#mal throws up when she thinks about it. jen too

[good-or-bad-luck]

i have a really funny joke i wanna post in a discord server but i dont know if i should bevcuase its not like an apporpoite joke for this discord server (that i am a mod in ,)

[themangledsans0508]

A Second Family

Read on Ao3

Summary: Ripley had always been with family. Then she went to camp. But she felt like it was family. Why? She thinks she knows.

Words: 1300, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Ripley, The Roanokes, The Zodiacs, Rosie, Nellie

Ships: Mally (not focus)

Additional Tags: Found Family, ripley thinking about how she found a second family, and how she assigned everyone mental roles

Maybe it was because Ripley, prior to camp, had never been away from a family member for longer than three days, which was for a field trip. All twelve years of her life she had been surrounded by family, her ten older siblings, parents, and her Abuela were always with her. Then it was her eight older siblings after the two oldest, who were twins, both moved out. Then adding her younger brother brought her to nine siblings, always around her.

Maybe that was why within her own cabin, she found herself thinking of her friends as family.

It was in simple ways, from the way they treated her to how her friendship with them worked to how she thought of them as people that she assigned them roles.

April was like a sister, someone who brought out both the best and worse in Ripley. She knew just what to do to get Ripley riled up, and just what to do to get her back. Unlike the others, she ran headfirst into danger right by Ripley’s side, caution was thrown to the wind in favour of the thrill of adventure. Both could get in over their heads when something they saw amazed them and accidentally drag everyone else down with them as they fell. When there was a rare calm around camp, they’d do things like makeovers or overdramatic retellings of their adventures.

Jo was very similar to April but felt older. Realistically, Ripley knew both Jo and April were fifteen but emotionally Jo felt much older. She was smart, calculating everything as they went along to find the best path to their destination, both metaphorically and literally. When she saw something, she saw a problem that needed to be solved. With Ripley, she was sort of a protector. Warning her of danger, scolding her when she did something wrong, and protecting her from whatever came their way. Just like Ripley’s oldest sister did. Whenever she could, she’d try to teach Ripley about math or science, ever-patient with her short attention span.

April and Jo were close to each other just like some of Ripley’s sisters were, practically each other’s counterweight. Almost complete opposites in the way that they basically rely on each other to work.

Molly in a way was like her mother. Gentle and soft-spoken, and terrifying when angry but normally very reserved. She would listen attentively to Ripley’s stories without interrupting with the very same amused look her mom would have whenever Ripley did the same to her. She would idly fix Ripley’s shirt when it was askew or run her fingers gently through her hair. When Ripley would barrel towards danger, she’d be the first to try and grab the scruff of her shirt to keep her from plummeting down whatever cliff she had failed to notice. If they found something mystical, Molly would keep her arms wrapped around Ripley to prevent her from trying to hug it, or talk to it, or get close to it in general. Whenever she could, she would tell Ripley stories about the gods and the heroes and the beasts from Greek mythology

Fittingly, Mal reminded Ripley of her dad. A goofball, the one who would make faces to mock whatever jerky cryptid they encountered. She’d give her piggybacks, or shoulder rides, or throw her like a projectile through the air like her dad would toss her into the swimming pool near their house. Telling wild stories from her home life, the shenanigans that she and her friends would get into that definitely weren’t the best influence (both Molly and Jen agreed). When it came to their journeys, she was the voice of reason, however, sometimes she was far too concerned over something. Just like her dad believed every person on the internet was some horrible kidnapper, Mal tended to react to every noise like it was a rabid wolf, though through no fault of her own.

When they could rest, it was a spitting image of her parents, almost always touching in some way, murmuring jokes to each other that no one else could hear nor understand. Basically inseparable, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

Jen was like another mom, although not in comparison to Ripley’s mom, but to the stereotype of one. Overly protective, to the point that unless absolutely necessary she preferred that no other counselors give directions to her girls. Giving them their chores, reminding them of their schedules, making sure they took care of themselves. With Jen around, everyone else felt like her sisters and they all had their mother. Desperate to keep track of them, and to keep them following the rules, and to most importantly keep them safe since they had a tendency to fail at that.

More than once some of the Roanokes hadn’t made their beds in the morning and came back to them pristine (not often, mind you. They still had to face the consequences of an unmade bed). Bringing snacks for them when they go hiking, along with spare clothes, tons of first aid, and hygiene products. She’d also lecture them about the importance of a healthy sleep schedule and keeping their space clean. Practically keeping Ripley on a leash.

She held herself responsible for all the Roanokes, and all the Lumberjanes in general. Holding herself to a higher standard and blaming many things that happened to her lack of preparation, never on the girls.

They were definitely the closest, but Ripley had three others she gave roles to.

Barney was like a cousin that was an honorary sibling. A sweet child who would give their friends the world if they could. Someone who’d join Ripley in make-believe, running through the woods in wild laughter. Someone who would partake in minor mischief and shenanigans. Baking treats for the Roanokes, making them trinkets and keepsakes. Sometimes joining them for Roanoke-only adventures.

A buddy that was there for everyone. Someone to make the world brighter.

Rosie was kind of an aunt, mysterious and slightly distant. Occasional stories from her past, but never any real details. She would come in clutch when the campers got in over their heads. Strong, independent, and questionable in her taste. She’d let the girls watch her made sculptures, or teach them how to make them. A cool aunt.

Someone to look up to.

The Bearwoman was absolutely a cranky grandma. Snappy, cranky, and sour. She always criticized the girls on everything they did, and never once complimented them. She hated hugs, and was always saying “Back in my day.”

Ripley never said she was a likable grandma.

She told the Roanokes how she felt before, one day before they all went to bed. She was kind of quiet when she said it, not her loud and proud voice she normally used. The Roanokes had looked at each other, and aside from Jen insisting she was not a mother, and getting told by the entire cabin she was, in fact, a mother, there was no protest. They actually started referring to Ripley as she had referred to them.

Except for Jen, but she accepted her role after some time.

She told Barney when they were hanging out in a tree, and they were silent for a moment, before saying they felt the same. They admitted they liked the family dynamic and felt that way about the Roanokes and the Zodiacs.

Ripley thought of the Zodiacs as older cousins, kind of intimidating to her. Save for Barney and Emily, she was almost scared of them.

She didn’t tell Barney that.

Later on, when she was lying in her bunk, she decided that the Lumberjanes were like an extended family.

They were there for each other, they always had each other’s backs, they were a unit.

[lumberjanes]

Alternate ending to issue 8 where Jo doesn't get turned back from stone. The Roanokes fight off the scouting lads, they're able to throw Ripley and give her god-powers temporarily, they're able to stop Diane & Apollo from taking over the world... But they still weren't able to save Jo. Not even with Ripley's god-powers, not even with Rosie trying her best to contact the greek gods, not even with Diane suddenly realizing her guilt and trying her best to help before she needs to leave camp. They go back, and they try and try and try everything they can to turn her back, but all the anagrams buzz into nonsense and Molly's almost having an anxiety attack because oh god, what if they can't save her, and Mal makes up plan after plan after plan and none are working, and Ripley already cried more tears than she thought she had, and Jen is trying her best to help her girls know that everything is going to be okay, but doesn't even know for herself if everything will really be okay. April doesn't cry. She punches walls, she throws aside boulders while they look for something, anything that will fix all this, her voice is a little more frantic and a little more forceful than anyone's heard it before, but she doesn't cry. She can't cry here. Crying would mean that she's gone. Crying would mean that she's never coming back. Days pass.

The visits to the anagram cave start turning less from searching for a cure, and more into just visiting. Mal sings her works in progress to Jo, songs about love, songs about pain, songs on guitar and bass and drum and everything. She almost feels bad to hope that something from them might just fix this. Molly tells Jo about how her days go, how she's feeling, how much she misses the way Jo would always know what to do, how she held herself with confidence. Molly talks about how she feels guilty that she couldn't do anything more to help her. Ripley cries, mostly. Sometimes about Jo, sometimes about other things that have happened, sometimes a mix of everything. She tries to give Jo presents she makes - friendship bracelets and lanyards and all sorts of things kids give to their family right the minute they come back from summer camp. Jen tries to tell Jo that it will all be okay, that they're still trying, that if she can hear them, they miss her so, so dearly, and that they will never forget her, they'll never leave her to be alone. As soon as the focus goes from turning her back to just visiting, April doesn't visit.

Rosie says that she's doing her best to get things back to normal, that all her focus is on saving Jo, (they've all come to hate that word - saving, saving, saving) but even through all her experience, she's never learned anything that could help with this. A week passes. Another week. It's been too long since the bunk in their cabin has been empty, the seat at their table in the mess hall empty, the voice they'd hear chatter about robots and Lumberjanes and friendship to the max and science gone. So they all visit, together, for the first time in what was less than a month but feels like forever all at once. And they're back, and everything is so similar to when they were there the first time, and there is Jo, same as always, and Ripley's already hugging her.

And she tells her that they miss her. Molly and Jen are the next ones to join the hug, and they both reaffirm this - they aren't the same without her, they need her. Mal does too, saying that even though they haven't talked together much before, she misses her, they all do. And April joins the hug, And she can't say anything. She can't say anything because how do you put into words how much you miss your best friend, how much you hate how she sacrificed herself for you, but how much you feel that you owe to her, and all this anger and sadness and grief that you always feel, how this weight feels too familiar to one you've carried before, how you hate that all this is a big maybe, a big "maybe she'll be back" where you don't know for sure, and all this combined with an entire statue dedicated to how you weren't able to save her. So she cries.

And all the Roanokes hold Jo. Jen is the first to notice something different - a small shift in the hug, but it's something more than that, she thinks, and- The stone is fading away. Slow but sure, Jo's arms are able to move again, her lungs able to breathe again, her body able to move again, her legs able to walk again, And everyone keeps hugging her, but this time, they're crying tears of joy. You're back. We missed you. We love you. Welcome home.

[isoscele]

Child’s Play Chapter 17

The Moves Like Dagger Badge

Knives can be useful tools, but are also important in a fight. Understanding how to use one is a staple of a Lumberjane's experience.

(ok so there are 3 chapters that i never ended up posting to tumblr but did end up posting to ao3. i would really recommend that you read chapters 14-16 before reading this. you can find them here

AO3  other chapters

warning for blood, death, and minor suicidal thoughts)

Mal drew a quivering line in the dirt. “I just- I don’t know.”

Molly squeezed her shoulders. “We trust you.”

“If we stay here-,” Mal started, then shook her head. “We should keep moving, right?”

April squinted from between sunlit chinks of hair, angled awkwardly across Jo’s torso. “We can’t run forever.”

A sharp pain in her scalp brought Jen back to reality. “Careful,” she said, one hand drifting up to protect her hair from Ripley’s fingers. She hadn’t seen a brush in ages and was beginning to question the sense in letting Ripley braid it.

“Sorry,” Ripley said. “Do you think the District One boy and the District Two girl are friends?”

“Probably not,” Jen said. “Their alliance isn’t like ours, remember.” Still, a nagging corner of her mind supplied an image of them laughing together, teenagers on top of the damn world. They’d gotten this far, but surely they knew that only one of them could go home.

“I vote we end it,” Jo said. “There are more of us than them, especially if one kills the other. Stay here, let them come for us, and be ready when they do.”

An uneasy silence settled over the group. There was certain finality to Jo’s words that none of them were quite ready for, acknowledgment that however this stupid game ended, it was going to end, and it was looking like it would end soon, with twenty-three cannons and money trading hands in the Capitol.

“So if we stay here . . .” Mal said, crouching down to draw a few trees in rough correlation to each other, “. . . and we position ourselves here, here, and here. . .”

“What if someone comes from this direction?” Jen asked. She crawled forward to place a twig on the ground, much to Ripley’s dismay.

“We can’t predict which way they’ll come from,” Jo said. Her eyes were closed and her forearms had dug into the dirt. “We need to be able to get them no matter what.”

Bored with Jen’s hair, Ripley scooted over to the bags, which lay mostly forgotten on Molly’s other side. She pulled the one marked with a bold 4 until it touched the corners of her knees and started to poke through it.

“I’ve seen them move, though,” April said. She shifted her weight, drawing a soft “oof” from Jo. “They’re both crazy fast. No way we could catch either of them without their spotting us first.”

“Guys!” Ripley interrupted, flinging herself into the middle of their semicircle. Dust curled up against her clothes like some sort of ignition. “Look!”

Curled tight in her hands were several knots of rope.

Slowly, April reached over and took one of them, running a finger over its length. “Huh,” she said.

“We could make a trap!” Ripley said. “With this and April’s amaaaazzzing netmaking skills!”

“I could actually . . .” April held the rope up to the sunlight and squinted. “That might work.”

Jen had a sudden, vivid image of the April in her dream, hanging loosely from a bloodstained rope. She shook her head. “Really?”

“I don’t see why not.” April twisted the rope around her hands until her veins popped. “I’m not sure what we could use it for, though.”

Molly laughed and nudged Mal with the tip of her foot. “I bet I know someone who is.”

Mal scratched the back of her neck, trying to hide her pink face. “We’d need to figure out a trigger.”

Something rose, bright and messy, in Jen’s throat. She’d never let herself believe they would make it this far, never let herself get her hopes up.

There were two more people in the Games, two more people with blood under their fingernails and an ocean of sponsors. They outnumbered her, and it would be done soon. One way or another, this long, exhausting charade would end tonight. It was a terrifying idea, but also relieving. No more playing the Capitol’s game.

Mal started to talk, outlining a sketchy plan in jolted flashes of inspiration. She rocked forward on her heels to draw diagrams in the dirt, letting Ripley trace the trees and smiling stick figures. Something insane and visceral was pulling itself together under them, and Jen was too proud to speak.

“What if she came in over here?” Jo said, poking one of the stick girls. “We’d need to change positions too quickly to pull it off.”

“Not necessarily,” Molly said. She squatted next to the drawings and traced a swooping arrow from a figure that was probably supposed to be April to a different tree. “If we had someone here instead, they could cover both spots.”

Mal pushed her fingers through her shaggy undercut. “That could work! Molly, you’re a genius.”

Molly blushed. “It’s a really good plan.”

“Just kiss already,” April stage-whispered to Jo, who giggled.

Dusk came in the way it always did, the sky tripping over itself. Eventually, Ripley scuffed over the illustrations, whispering a quiet goodbye to the stick figures and silence fell.

“Should we take our positions?” April said, voice so quiet it broke Jen’s heart.

She swallowed. She had to be the adult here, had to rub their shaking hands and give reassurances to their unspoken worries. It was undoubtedly the hardest thing she’d ever done when all she wanted to do was curl up in her mom’s lap and go to sleep.

“Yeah,” she said, hoping the catch of her voice wasn’t noticeable. “Yeah, I think- I think that would be best.”

“So this is it, then,” Jo said.

“This is it,” Jen repeated.

“We should do some kind of cheer,” Molly said. “Like- I don’t know.”

“My mama used to call me her little lumberjane,” Ripley said. “Like a girl lumberjack. That could be us.”

“Cutting down trees and bad guys,” Mal said in a low voice that sounded remarkably like her Caesar impression. If Jen heard the tears, she didn’t say anything.

“It’s settled,” April said with a sort of forced cheer that she shouldn’t have had to learn for years. “Everyone, put your hand in the center. We have to do it for good luck.”

Luck was one thing that nobody reaped for the Games had. Jen placed her hand atop the sweaty pile of limbs. “On my count,” she said. “One, two, three . . .”

“Lumberjanes!” they whisper-shouted, throwing their hands into the air. She was sure it looked silly, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. They needed this. They needed to be children, just this once, before that too was taken from them.

Jen traced the stark white whorls of the tree. She wanted something to do with her hands. She wanted the factory, the soothing rumble of machinery, of thousands of pieces fitting together perfectly. If a product came out malformed or broken, it was always easy to tell where it had gone wrong, and she yearned for that now, some small certainty.

Ripley and April were locked in a furious match of rock-paper-scissors. There was a decided swiftness of their motions, no looking back. Neither was smiling, which felt so wrong that it made Jen’s chest ache. What was wrong with people, trying to take smiles away? Which machine broke while making the Capitol, turning the people shrewd and twisted?

Something wasn’t working in her brain. They’d gone over their plan a hundred times, but it felt disjointed when she tried to call it up. This couldn’t be real, none of it could. In the real world, girls like her died in spades. In the real world, she never would have gotten here, to this tree and this clearing and this sickening anticipation, humid in the air around them.

Maybe when you died, there was some part of you that pretended to keep living, like a dream or the way you feel after you get off a train, like the world’s still rushing by and paying you no mind. Maybe there was a part of you that kept wandering around, kept trying to survive in motions rife with pity. Maybe the whole world was filled with ghosts who believed themselves to be immortal.

The cannon rang in her ears. It took several seconds for her to figure out what it meant.

Somewhere below her, Mal gasped, very quiet. Maybe the world around you eventually began to fall apart, little pieces breaking off and disappearing forever, so slow that you couldn’t remember exactly when things stopped making sense.

Someone was dead and someone else was coming. Their plans, their stick-figure diagrams paled in comparison to the actual moment.

“It’s okay,” Jen heard herself whisper. “Remember what we talked about.”

Ripley nodded, confident in herself if Jen was. She wanted to take all of them right now, wanted to climb down and lead them far, far away from the arena and all of its poison. She wanted to walk to the very edges of this place and hammer on the walls, scream until she was hoarse. She wanted to make noise until someone carried them away. She wanted to take them to District Four and build a raft so they could sail to a better place, one that appreciated kids as something other than a creative way to punish their parents.

She didn’t. She clutched the branches of her tree with sweaty, scraped hands and waited like she had all her life. If she made it out of here, she wouldn’t let anything come to her. She would meet it in the middle, fists raised.

A very long time seemed to pass, but the sky stayed the same. A cloud passed over the stars, and Jen squeezed her eyes shut. It was stupid and childish, but she didn’t want the stars to see whatever was about to happen. The beautiful Pleiades, impassive Orion. She needed them to stay pure.

Footsteps, quick and sharp. Jen could pick out the snap of each individual twig, but there was no reason for anyone to be quiet now, was there? Stealth was for hunters with challenging prey- game, she supposed. The very word made her want to peel her eyes out.

“You can’t hide!” someone shrieked. It was the girl, from District Two. Jen tried not to imagine the boy, a slash across his throat, eyes still wide with surprise. “I was born to be a Victor!”

It hurt to imagine her as a baby, still filled with hope for this desiccated world. No one was born to do this.

She was drawing nearer. If she looked up, just once, she would see Ripley’s eyes, wide as dinner plates, or Molly’s hair, silvery in the moonlight. If she looked up just once, it would all be over.

There was no God, only Panem. That was what you were told, from a very young age. God would not save your children, your crops, you. Only the Capitol had the power to save anyone.

No one was getting saved tonight.

The girl did not look up.

Pretty soon, she would be too far away for the plan to work. They had backup plans, too, but those were messier, harder, more chaotic. There were elements they couldn’t control.

Jen cupped her hands around her mouth and whistled, a few short notes that resembled a birdcall. The girl stopped and glanced upwards. She had time to lock eyes with Jen, eyes filled with more hatred then she had ever seen, and a dawning fear.

Jen couldn’t look away, even though her every cell screamed to. Where was Ripley, where was Mal, they should be moving by now, had they forgotten, were they stuck?

Ripley shrieked, animalistic and so powerful it gave Jen goosebumps. She turned and saw Ripley leave Mal’s arms, kicking off with enough force to push Mal backwards. She yelled something Jen couldn’t make sense of, a blurred mix of syllables and emphasis that sounded something like a war cry.

She watched as if in her living room in District Eight, curled into her sleeping mother and chewing her thumbnail. She watched as if she were just another citizen of Panem, anxious for the whole charade to end so she could get back to her life. Her last year, and then she would be safe.

She watched the way everyone else was as Ripley landed an off-center kick, clipping the girl’s shoulder and almost falling as she did, and Jen couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, why had she engineered this plan so she was so damn useless? Why was she allowing them to take her risks?

Jo grabbed Ripley under the arms and pulled her to safety, a messy tangle of limbs. Ripley still wasn’t smiling, her big eyes, and the blue in her hair almost gone. It was too much, all of it.

The cloud passed and the stars gazed down as the District Two girl stumbled backwards. Her lips quirked into the start of a victorious smile, believing it was all they had. She was still standing, and she was going to kill them.

Her foot caught the snare. Netting burst from all sides, like some flower curling around her and swallowing her whole.

There was a beat of heavy silence. The girl thrashed around, clawing at the rope and snarling, actually snarling. Blood dripped from her lip, an old injury, maybe from her fight with the boy. She painted the ground with her victories, her losses.

Jen eased herself down, clinging close to the trunk. All of this, and she still couldn’t climb a tree. Everything had gone very quiet suddenly, and very far away. Frogs were singing somewhere, how could they sing at a time like this? Even the girl in April’s well-constructed net felt surreal, just another hallucination. The arena did that to you, it built you things to keep the Capitol entertained.

She’d managed to extract a dagger from her pocket and was trying to saw through the rope. She would have to work hard to get there, and even so, there were hundreds of little squares. The knife would be dull before the net released her.

Jen wormed a few fingers in through the largest gap. The girl slashed wildly at her hand, splitting the skin over and over again. Somewhere, Ripley shouted her name, still so concerned. Didn’t she see? It was only blood, it was only ever blood. The Capitol needed blood, and Jen understood need.

She closed her shaking fingers around the handle and yanked it free. The girl was crying, salt and iron crusting together on her upper lip. Humans were made of carbon and nitrogen, cells and nerve and tissue. Panem never could appreciate a good miracle. It was such a stupid thing to forget.

“I was born to be a Victor,” the girl said again. “You don’t understand! I was a Career, I trained for years-,”

She did everything right. You weren’t supposed to die if you did everything right. Dimly, Jen registered the rustle of leaves and old branches as her girls joined her, facing their net and their trap and District Two’s deadly Career. Six and one, it was six and one and Jen felt sorry for her. Maybe if she’d had an alliance that wouldn’t turn on her, that didn’t have that hardwired suspicion, these Games would have turned out differently.

Someone had to kill her. Nothing would ever end if they left her in limbo, and it had to end.

“I’m sorry,” Jen croaked. She felt pitiful, the teenager who thought that friendship could solve everything. She tried not to think of her mom. It was late, maybe she was asleep. Maybe she wouldn’t have to watch her daughter do this.

She pressed the tip of the blade to the girl’s throat. Maybe all of Panem was asleep, and she could be alone in her shame.

The girl slowly touched the indentations just below her chin. Her fingers weren’t trembling. “Across the trachea,” she said. “Right here.”

Jen swallowed, acutely aware of her own neck. “I don’t- I didn’t want to-,”

“I know,” the girl said. “Please, just- make it fast.”

“I’ll try,” Jen said. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t blur her vision. She didn’t want it to be painful, but the knife was awfully small.

Later, she wouldn’t remember very much of what followed.

It was painful, and it wasn’t fast. Her hand slipped, the knife shook, and the blood kept coming. She wanted to cover her girls’ eyes, their ears. She wanted to hold them and rock them, gentle and soft. She wanted to tell them that it was okay.

The District Two girl was mostly quiet, only screaming or grunting a few times. Jen hated it. She should’ve been shouting, fighting, trying to knock the knife out of Jen’s hand.

The most awful part was that she didn’t hear the cannon right away, so she kept sawing. It was dark, and she couldn’t see the sputtering rise and fall of the girl’s chest, nor its absence.

A face lit up the sky and Jen tried not to look at it. The boy was grinning in his picture, cocky and confident. The girl wasn’t.

She dropped the knife and turned, bleak and anxious, towards her girls. They were standing in a protective half-circle, watching her.

Several terrible seconds passed in which nobody said anything. How could Jen ever have pretended to be protecting them? She was a curse on them, a weight on their shoulders. She couldn’t contribute to their plans, couldn’t shelter them from the arena.

She didn’t realize she was crying until the force of the tears made her sit down, crouched in the dirt. She scratched at her eyelids, her cheeks, everything that made up the murderer that she was. She gasped and sobbed, trying to cover her face from her girls. They were so young, but so was she, really. So were they all.

She recognized Ripley’s skinny frame and warm arms without opening her eyes. Ripley, tiny hopeful Ripley. Her fastball.

“We love you, Jen!” Ripley shouted, very close to Jen’s ear. “We love you!”

The others joined in, squeezing her neck and waist. Ten hands on her shoulders, ten arms pressed tight. Five hearts beating in tandem with hers, and five voices shouting affirmations until the air was thick with their love for her.

“I love you,” she said, unable to articulate quite how much. “I love all of you, I- I can’t-,”

“It’s okay,” Molly said, quiet because that was how Molly was sometimes. “It’s okay.” Understanding passed between them, the understanding of killers who loved with all their hearts.

The faces in the sky disappeared. A helicopter dipped down, giant and monstrous, reaching its cold arms to pick up the net and the mangled girl within. Jen watched her go, sorry and sad and filled with too much emotion for one person.

Ripley fell asleep and Jen picked her up. They walked until they found a place with no blood, no sweat or tears, clean of the pain of the arena.

“Someone should keep watch,” Jen mumbled. “I- it’s not over yet.”

“It’s over when we say it’s over,” April said and Jen wanted to cry again. Her girls, her beautiful, brave, strong girls. It was over when they said it was over. For once, the Capitol was at their mercy, not the other way around.

They slept in a pile, and Jen listened for their breaths in the sweet, still night. There was still so much that could kill them, but they wouldn’t die alone.

That was all she could ask for, really.

[themangledsans0508]

@mindless-pidgeon lol I was supposed to be working but instead I finished this

Um quite a bit of blood so watch out for that

It was worth a shot, Mal thought to herself. She was lying on her back in the dirt, ferns clinging to her body as she felt the warm blood seep into the ground surrounding her from a bite in her legs. She had no idea what that thing was, both what it shapeshifted into once again and what it was naturally. Just a huge wolf, this time it was even bigger.

She didn’t feel anything. Emotion-wise, that is. Her back hurt like someone had broken her spine right in half, her arms burned from the scratches she received during her attempted escape and her legs…

God her legs.

They were coated in blood, both having been bitten and stabbed by sticks and rocks and anything with a damn point on the end. She had been dragged by her legs to her current position and it felt like her legs were nerves that got irritated at any touch.

So a lot of touch was really fucking painful.

She didn’t even know if she was even gonna live to make it to the monster’s destination. She didn’t know how she felt about that. 

 However, she was at peace with the fact she was going to die.

On the one hand, she really didn’t care. It was like running from the monster under your bed before you finally meet it face to face. It’s far scarier when it’s unknown. She was staring death in the face.

And she was laughing at her. She was laughing at death.

She didn’t think anyone would remember she fell off that cliff. Nobody would come looking for her. She had even driven her own murderer away before the job was finished. 

Did she hate herself? Meh. Not all of her, but probably a fair amount. However, she had always been scared of dying.

Of being forgotten.

Now she had come to terms with it. 

She looked up at the sun for the last time.

It was almost as bright as someone’s laugh had made her feel.

That girl could make her truly smile, to forget all her fears. 

She had dated others before, but she was different.

Molly was different.

The clock in her head stopped ticking.

She closed her eyes.

~

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Twenty.

The clock in her head starting ticking again.

Started beeping.

She refused to die here.

She didn’t believe in god besides when he was useful in her cussing, but maybe she did believe in fate. There was a reason this had happened, she had come to this camp, she had met those fellow girls, and she had fallen in love. She was ready to start throwing around the “L-word”.

She knew she couldn’t get up, but she could keep breathing and wait. She wasn’t even going to try to get up. She may be strong enough to live, but she wasn’t in one of Ripley’s animes.

She heard distant gunfire and cussing. Lots of cussing.

Who the hell owned a gun in these words? Everyone just had hatches and bows.

Wait. There is someone with a gun. She remembered. Trampling and more gunfire came from the surrounding forest, closing in upon her.

“I wasn’t looking for a maniac! I was just looking for directions!” She recognized the voice, but the fear was unusual for something that had tried to murder her. She glimpsed the large dark mass leap past her line of sight.

“You found me anyways, fox! You want directions? Ask the Grootslang!” The voice was feminine and powerful. And another she recognized. 

Abigail ran in fast pursuit of the fox, shotgun in hand and in the process of reloading.

“Hey,” Mal called as loud as she could. Abigail froze and scanned the area, eventually laying eyes upon Mal. She cussed and ran over, dropping to the ground right beside her.

“What happened kid? What’s your name?” Her voice was soft but infuriated. Mal assumed about either her condition or the fact that the fox had gotten away.

“Hey. Um. Name’s Mal. I’m one of the Roanokes. The ones who tried to stop you from waking the Grootslang?” Mal’s voice trailed off. She didn’t first think that maybe when your life depended on the kindness of a psycho, you shouldn’t bring up the fact that you were previously her adversary.

“Roanokes? You’re a Lumberjane then.” Abigail seemingly chose to ignore the rest of her statement, which Mal respected and appreciated. 

“Yeah. I kinda got into some trouble and-”

“I can see that. What were you doing out here by yourself?” Mal thought of how to answer that. She didn’t know this woman, besides the fact that she may have been dating Rosie at one point. 

“I fell off a cliff,” she said. It wasn’t the full truth, but not a lie either.

“This doesn’t come from falling off a cliff. What did those bite marks come from? A wolf? A bear? Tell me Mal.” Mal sighed.

“A weird shape-shifting fox thing,” she confessed. “The same thing you were hunting.”

“She doesn’t usually cause harm herself. Did she say anything?” Abigail inquired.

“She was doing someone a ‘favor.’ I don’t know who,” she said. Abigail nodded.

“Alright. You need help. That’s a fact. My cabin is too far away to carry you in this state. However, if I remember correctly, the Lumberjanes camp is that way.” She pointed north. “Correct?”

“Uh, I actually don’t know,” Mal mumbled. “I got kind of disoriented in the process of ending up here, so, maybe?” 

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.

“Okay, well then we’re going with my gut instinct.” Abigail bent down and gingerly picked Mal up, sending searing pain through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and held in a scream. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

~

Molly was hearing things.

Upon discovering the mess of red, Molly had briefly collapsed. Rosie remained as determined as ever, insisting that Mal was alive. She decided they split up, Rosie and Jen, and Molly and Nellie. She wasn’t blind to the fact that they hoped it would distract her, that she would be so preoccupied with asking questions that she would be able to get her off track while Rosie did the real heavy lifting.

Unfortunately for them, it didn’t work.

Molly ran through the woods, Nellie on her heels instead of the other way around. Molly hadn’t asked any questions, and Nellie had no sarcastic comments to make to the girl.

She could hear things, voices surrounding her. The trees themselves spoke to her. They told her directions, right, forward, left, back. She could sense animals that had meant harm avoiding her. She could even feel the portals to the other dimensions around her.

Then she saw a light.

And she ran straight towards it.

~

Nellie struggled to understand how people felt so attached to others.

Maybe it was because she was always a person who preferred to be alone. Maybe it was because she would rather deal with things herself, and let everyone else deal with their problems, or maybe it was because the only thing she truly cared about was these woods.

This camp.

This girl.

There was something different about her, she could tell. It was written on her. Rosie could see it, Abigail could see it, she could see it herself. The girl, Molly, could only feel it.

But there were other things that could see it too. Things that want to use it to remove the seal that kept these woods away from the rest of the world.

Despite all of this, she was different even for a guardian. Nellie herself would readily admit that she could use magic, but that doesn’t mean every guardian can. Molly, however, could use magic even better that she could. 

If she knew, that was.

Perhaps she felt obliged to care about her, perhaps she felt bad for her, perhaps she saw a bit of herself in her.

Whatever it was, she wanted to help this kid.

But, she couldn’t help this if she kept running into every dangerous situation she saw.

For instance, running into that area of woods.

His area.

“What do you think you’re doin’ girl?” She was lucky she was part bear, otherwise, she couldn’t keep up with that kid. She took off running after the stream of blonde, taking notice of the fact that wherever she stepped, the ground seemed to instantaneously die. 

~

Although she felt like she was burning to ashes, Mal was still awake and could see the sea of green pass above her as Abigail raced through the forest. Clinging as tightly as she could in her current state she held to Abigail’s back. She felt dizzy for several reasons, blood loss being a major one. Abigail was strong, but she couldn’t run as fast as either of them wanted.

She suddenly stopped, nearly slipping in her haste. She looked into the abyss of plants, her eyes fixed on something Mal could not see.

“There’s someone coming,” she said flatly. She carefully stepped towards the object of her interest, before freezing once again.

A burst of blonde dived out of the woods, eyes fixed solely on Abigail. Mal recognized her the moment she emerged from the dark.

Molly, with small scratches littering her body from dashing through the woods, stood directly in front of Abigail with anger and fear dominating her eyes.

“Molly!” Mal called. Her voice was weak, but she could hear her.

“Mal!” She rushed towards Abigail.

“You. Let. Her. Go. Now!” She demanded. Mal let go of Abigail’s back with one hand, loosely holding it in front of them.

“Molly! Wait! She saved me. It’s not her fault. But, um, Abigail? Could you let me down? I might be able to walk.” Abigail nodded, gently crouching down and releasing her. Mal tried to get a firm grip on the ground, but immediately almost fell back into the dirt. Abigail’s firm grip kept her upright. She turned to Molly.

“You might want to help her, I don’t want to leave her trying to stand by herself.” She nodded and rushed over, carefully wrapping her arms around Mal’s waist. Mal felt warmth flood to her face, being touched in any way by someone you really love can make you blush.

She learned that fast after meeting Molly.

~

Molly held Mal tightly like she was the only rope holding her up from falling in hell. She was never letting her go again. Metaphorically, that is. She felt tears escape the prison she had locked them. She closed her eyes and rested her head atop Mal’s. If Mal hadn’t been in danger, she would have wished the moment could last forever.

~

Nellie emerged from the woods at last. She wanted to see how the girl would handle it. But god, did she hate tears. She approached Abigail silently, before turning back to a human and resting her hand on her arm.

“You did good, girl. But don’t think for a second this means you can do whatever you want in these here woods!” She scolded, removing her hand and crossing her arms.

“You old bat! She would have died if I hadn’t come along! I should hang you up and-” she took a deep breath. “Thank you. For the compliment.”

Nellie nodded, a silent understanding embracing the two.

“Your girl is on the other side of the woods if you want to see her. I know you watch her from the woods, kid.” Abigail clenched her fists.

“Thank you, grandma,” She sneered and rushed off before Nellie could give her a lashing with her words. She turned back to a grizzly and approached the girls.

~

Sutela watched from the treetops, careful not to be seen. True, she was a small fox at the moment, but that old hag could recognize her if she was a rock. She lost the girl, the only thing the boss wanted. On the flip side, she found someone with even more potent energy to her than the flannel girl. He’d want to hear about that. She carefully lept from the trees back to her home and her boss, where she hoped she could make up for her failure.

~

Mal woke up at last. Coated in bandages and under bunk-arrest, she couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. She had slept for a while, exhausted and scarred (literally) from the adventure.

She didn’t know how Rosie managed to convince her mom that nothing had actually happened, and it had simply been a nightmare. That took talent. Or drugs.

Lots of drugs.

She breathed deeply. The warmth of her bunk reflecting on her body and making her feel safe.

Until the door creaked open.

She felt panic fill her body. Everyone was supposed to be at activities, it couldn’t be one of her cabin-mates.

“Mal?”

Or maybe it could.

Molly stepped into the cabin, carefully closing the door behind her. She came and knelt next to Mal’s bunk. She reached her hand out and placed it on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” She nodded and moved over, patting the bunk to invite her on. 

Molly complied, carefully climbing onto the bunk and laying on her side adjacent to Mal. She reached out and pulled Mal towards her so their foreheads were touching and intertwined their legs.

“Mal, I-” She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing raggedly. “I thought you had died.” Mal laughed weakly and moved one hand to hold hers.

“I did too. Molly, when I was out there, I think I almost died. And not to be sappy but, I think it was you that helped me hang on. I was about the throw in the towel, and I did. For like a half-hour, it was just dark. Then I realized I had to try and live because I had to see you again. “ She felt tears slide down her face as she spoke. She tried to keep her voice from cracking as she continued.

“I thought about you and the fact that I-I love you. Like I’ve said that before to other girls when I dated them, but you’re different. I think about things with you routinely that would have never crossed my mind with them. I want to grow up with you Molly. Through everything. I want to stay with you. And if you don’t feel that way, fuck, we aren’t even dating, it’s okay. I can respect that.” Mal held her breath.

Molly couldn’t help but feel jealous, angry even, hearing about the fact Mal had previously dated other girls. She had to remember that it was in the past. Even though she feared that maybe Mal was lying, she could feel the truth in her words. She was telling the whole truth.

“Mal, I did nothing but search for you for hours. I’d do it again, and again, and again. I want to be with you, Mal. I think I-” she hesitated briefly. “I love you too. A lot. I would do anything for you. And hearing you feel the same way, I can’t believe it. I get to call you my girlfriend. I’ll be so happy once it sets in.” Mal laughed.

“What’ll help it set in?” she asked. 

“Sleep,” Molly smiled. Mal scooted closer to her, nuzzling into her neck and wrapping her arms around her back.

“Well, I’m under bed-arrest, so we can do that for a while.” Molly grinned like a kid with candy and looked down at Mal, softly kissing her forehead. She held her tightly.

“I love you, Mal.”

“I love you, Molly.”

lol ill tag the wattpad stuff later but if you wanna request you can

[lumberjanes]

How about this - a Mally proposal + wedding!!!!

Oh yes yes yes yes yes, I am a sucker for cute stuff like that. This is going to be very all-over-the-place, and I have only a vague idea of how weddings work, but here’s my interpretation of how it’d all work out…

Molly’s the one who proposes first, but mostly due to luck - Mal was also planning to propose around the same time - she had a big plan for it! A date at a diner Molly liked, a walk through the local woods, then, in front of the biggest tree right when the moon was full - the proposal, shiny ring and all!

Thing was, Molly ordered a ring for Mal first, so she got that a week or so before Mal’s plan could go into action. She was going to save it for later too, but after seeing Mal laugh as they would dance in the kitchen together, and after hearing her say, “I can’t wait to marry you,” she just knew she had to propose, right then and there. They both cry. They still go on the date Mal planned, and she still presents the ring she got for Molly there. They have mismatched rings because of this, but that just makes them love the gesture even more.

The wedding isn’t really big, mostly since neither of them like crowds. Mal’s mom cries so many happy tears and gives them both the biggest hugs before the ceremony. Molly’s parents don’t show up, but that’s because they weren’t invited. Mal & Molly both find really pretty/handsome suits to wear for the event, mostly thanks to one of Mal’s more stylish friends.

The ceremony is pretty short, - a few speeches from close friends & family (Jen starts crying a little in the middle of her speech, and everyone applauds her), none of the “to have and to hold” stuff since Mal felt like it was a bit too heteronormative. Also, Molly didn’t want to have to stand for a really long time, so they both win. They both just vow to love each other as they always have, since this is really just the start of their lives together. April cheers a little too loud when they kiss each other.

After the ceremony, they have a (calm) party with everyone! Mal’s band plays a few tunes, and after that Ripley takes over as the DJ. Good music, good food, good company… What more could you want?

They do follow a few traditions, though - mostly getting a big photo with everyone involved, which always takes longer than you think it will. The cake was a big hit, since it was rainbow-themed! They throw a bouquet, and Jo catches it, even though she wasn’t actually trying to.

Do they drive off in a car with a huge, obnoxious, rainbow-colored “JUST MARRIED” sign on it they painted the night before since they forgot to do it before then? Maybe. Do they tell silly stories about themselves that end up embarrassing each other a little during the party after the event? Perhaps. But one thing’s for sure - they live happily ever after.