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ilguna · 4 years

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Metanoia - Chapter Ten (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 7.5k

Warnings; swearing, murder!

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

DOUBLE UPDATE TODAY --> CHAPTER TEN 1/2

–

You would take the fucking birds over the spiders any day. If you could go back in time and be here instead, you would take it. Because while it was genuine torture for Katniss--since she has human emotion--it was nothing to you. You laughed for the first fifteen minutes, until it stopped being funny as soon as they pulled out fabricated screams of your very dead family.

You can’t deny that you weren't impressed, though. The amount of trouble they must have gone through just to get them had to have been a lot. They’re dead, which means that they obviously can’t torture them, so the screams have to be fake. So, they have to go back to the interview they had with your family when you were first in the games, take samples of their voices, and then manipulate it until it sounded about right.

They did a fantastic job making it sound real. You almost had a flashback to all those times you were a dick to your brothers and sisters. However, you can’t verify for your parents. They never screamed, no matter what situation they were in, they took it without any fear.

You tried to tell Katniss that the people she hears screaming are probably just fine, considering the gamemakers are morons and they just gave the entire thing away the second they chose your family. But she either literally couldn’t hear you over the birds, or she just chose to ignore you either way.

You can’t say that you didn’t try, though you didn’t care enough to enforce it in her mind.

After a certain point in time, you got fed up with the birds pelting you, and sitting around next to the wall waiting for the hour to be up, so you wandered. Of course, where you went, the birds followed. But it was better being able to move around and check out the sector to see if it was worth staying in after this.

Compared to everything else, this section of the arena is definitely harmless. The birds fuck with the mind of those who have human emotion, but that’s about it. There’s no deadly fog or monkeys. There’s no spiders that eat flesh or a wave of water that’ll wipe you out if you can’t swim. It’s basically clean.

Although, it does hurt when the birds propel themselves into your body, beaks first. After a while, you kinda just get used to it, and learn when to swing the glaive to send the birds flying into the trees. It was fun, until you realized that if you wander too far, the gamemakers might actually try to wipe you out for entertainment.

“Are you okay?” Finnick asks, you swat his hand away.

“You think I give a shit?” you ask, “Those birds mean nothing. The screams are fake, the gamemakers were stupid enough to use my families.” you look up to the sky of the arena, “Which by the way, if you didn’t know--they’re all fucking dead!”

The look on Finnick’s face is almost priceless. He opens his mouth, but you shake your head at him. They’ve been dead for years, and no amount of apologies will bring them back to life. Everyone can say they’re sorry all they want, but you don’t want to hear a single thing out of their mouth concerning the situation unless they’re some sort of necromancer.

“They won’t touch Prim.” Peeta says to Katniss.

“Your fiance’s right, the whole country loves your sister. If they tortured her-–if they did anything to her, forget the districts. There would be riots in the damn Capitol.” Johanna laughs, and then yells; “Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we-–what if we set your backyard on fire? You know you can’t put everybody in here.”

You slow clap, snickering to yourself. Johanna and you may not get along, since you two come from very different places, but the two of you are similar than anyone may think. Which is the exact reason why you hate her so fucking much. You don’t want to be compared to her. While she’s loud-mouthed and unafraid to get in trouble, you’d never say some of the shit she does.

Like her stunt during the interview, not a move you would have made. Then again, your entire plan when you volunteered was to be ruthless and win. You didn’t want a target on your head back then, and you don’t really want one now either. However, in order for that not to happen, you’d have to completely ditch your group of allies here.

If anything screams target, it’s sticking around with Beetee, the guy who worked for the Capitol, knows things that he shouldn’t. Johanna, as you said, loud-mouthed and unfearful of sharing her opinions. And Katniss Everdeen, the trouble-stirrer. Plus, god knows what Snow would have against Finnick, Peeta and you.

“What?” she asks, “He can’t hurt me. There’s no one left that I love.”

“Join the club.” you swing the glaive in your hand before slamming it into the ground.

First of all, you’re not entirely surprised that her family has been killed off. When she had come out of her games, she was a big talk for a long while. Johanna played the damsel in distress role very well, which is nearly the same thing that Finnick had done. The only difference, Finnick was just looked over until the last second, while Johanna was purposely acting innocent.

It doesn’t take a lot for the Capitol citizens to desire a certain tribute. They must have seen the fire, spunk and determination on Johanna. Snow obviously had tried to get her to say yes, but even after he had killed her family, she didn’t give in like the rest of you.

You’ve known a couple of people that have been included in the Capitol’s antics, actually. Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria, you. You know for a fact that Finnick was included, and you bet he said no at first too, so he’s missing a few fingers. There’s Johanna, maybe Blight but you don’t have a clue on that. A few of the other tributes that have been in here probably too.

Katniss and Peeta would be on that list, if it weren’t for them being together and the nation wanting them to be. There’s a great deal of people that want them to be married and have children and be the holy grail of perfect couples. While on the other hand, there’s a few that would desire Katniss, you’re not sure about Peeta. He’s kinda… brainless.

Anyway, Snow wouldn’t take a chance like breaking up the most loved couple at the moment to try and sell one--or maybe both!--into prostitution. He’s smarter than that.

Johanna walks off, you’re not entirely sure why, and you don’t care very much either.

“You weren’t affected at all?” Finnick asks when he can’t stand the silence. Or he’s curious over why Katniss had lost her mind and you stood like a soldier in a storm.

“Finnick, I stopped giving a shit a long time ago,” you say, “There’s two exact things that I care about anymore. One, my big cozy house in District Two. And two, my pride and joy, Tanith.” you grab a hold of the necklace, showing it off for a moment, “And before you ask, no she isn’t my daughter. She’s just one of two of my victors.”

Zavian can go fuck himself, is what you’re subtly implying. You wonder if he’s caught on to that.

“Sure, they tried to get a rise out of me using Tanith’s screams, but I wasn’t going to fall for it. I already saw what happened to numb nuts--” you motion to Katniss, “--and decided to just… not care. I’m not exactly an emotional person, if you haven’t caught on just yet.”

Peeta clearly didn’t like the nickname that you handed off to Katniss. To this, you give him a very specific look as you pass him. Almost a sneer, because you still are very much above him.

“Kids.” you mutter.

This is enough to set him off, “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“Peeta…” Finnick warns.

You crouch down near him and Katniss, “You know how animals get a little antsy when their prey is in front of them?” he looks like he pales, “We’re not friends, Peeta. In fact, I completely loathe you and I’ve been waiting for a moment to pounce on you and everyone else here.

“The second that this alliance fails, I’m going after you guys first. Not Johanna, or Beetee, or Brutus. You and your little girlfriend.”

“That just means that you’re afraid of what we’re capable of.”

You laugh in his face, before moving closer, whispering; “No, I just know things that you don’t.” you stand again, “I’m heading to the beach, don’t feel forced to follow anytime soon.”

You take a completely new path to the beach, making sure to cover your tracks the best you can. Last thing you want is Finnick chasing after you, thinking that you’re upset or whatever. That isn’t the case in the slightest, you’re mostly walking away so you don’t end up killing them.

Katniss is in the most vulnerable state she’s been in yet. A quick stab through her chest, and then a swing of the glaive up to Peeta’s throat--and you’ve knocked them both out of the game already. You bet Finnick wouldn’t necessarily try to kill you, but he’d definitely disarm you in some way.

Pull the pocket knife out of your boot, three people are dead. Beetee can’t run that fast, four people. It would just be you and Johanna, and she’d probably go running back to the rest of you, since that’s a lot of cannons. You’d take her out too, and then there would be only three people left inside of the games.

You, Brutus, and Chaff--as Peeta said. Chaff doesn’t have any important skills, he’d die in the wilderness. With your luck, all you’d have to do is camp the cornucopia, hidden inside, and when he would come to armor up some more--because he would--you’d take him out too. Just like that, you’d be the winner of the Quarter Quell.

Of course, this is all easier said than done. Trying to kill four people in one big burst would be an absolute pain in the ass. You’d have to pick a perfect time to do it. Like Katniss freaking out over whoever it was, and Peeta tending over her.

Actually, instead of killing Finnick third, you think you would go for Beetee instead, and Finnick would come after. It just makes more sense that way.

The beach is empty, there’s no one around the ring--and as far as you can see--in the treeline either. Brutus would be smart enough to stay in the jungle, and not make a run for the cornucopia just in case the rest of you are out here. He’s outnumbered considerably. He might be able to mow down a few people at first, but eventually he’ll get taken down.

You take a seat next to the tree that you guys were gathered around before the jabberjays had rudely interrupted. You run your hands over your arms, noticing that the scabs are basically gone already. It’s good news, it means that the ointment that you were given works at an accelerated pace--even more so than the cream for the cut on the back of your head.

Applying it again, you skip your legs. It’s only the upper half of your body that’s exposed anymore, and it’s because you passed on putting the shirt on. It was because of how hot it is in here. Plus, the thing is basically ruined anyway, the spiders had chewed holes in it to get through.

Hell, you bet that it’s still where you left it last.

You can’t wait until all of this is over.

“Who’s Annie?” Katniss asks, you raise your head from where it was resting against a tree, looking to where everyone is sitting.

Johanna is next to Katniss, Finnick is sitting in the water, and Beetee and Peeta are nearby.

“Annie Cresta, the girl that Mags volunteered for. She won like four years--five years ago.” Johanna says.

You lay your head back down against the tree, but don’t bother closing your eyes again, instead you stare right ahead at Finnick. You’d call him insane for sitting in freezing water like that, but he comes from the ocean district. No water can really bother him that badly.

You wonder what brought Katniss’ question on. She might have overheard you when you asked Finnick that question. About what would happen to Annie if you and Finnick are soulmates. If he’d just willingly leave her like that, after he found your dislikable personality, charming somehow.

“Is she the one that went a little…” Katniss doesn’t want to say it.

Johanna hums, pauses, and then says; “Love is weird.”

Unfortunately, it is.

“I have a plan.” Beetee says.

“Finnick!” Johanna gets up.

“I have a plan.” Beetee repeats.

Finnick and Johanna come back over, arms resting on the tree branch. You don’t move from where you’re sitting, which is definitely out of the circle that they’re standing and sitting in. You’re exhausted, you need some real sleep and not some power naps every couple of hours.

“Where does Brutus feel safest? The jungle?” Beetee asks.

“Jungles a nightmare.” Johanna says.

“Probably here on the beach.” Peeta answers.

“Then why is he not here?” Beetee asks.

“Because we are. We claimed it.” Johanna spits.

You can’t believe that they’re really worrying over one person. As you’ve said to yourself over and over, Brutus is harmless if you’re all careful. Yes, he will come back to hunt, but he’s going to need supplies out of the cornucopia first. Once he gets that shit, he’ll be coming after you guys.

“And if we left, he would come?” Beetee asks again.

You hate his ‘twenty questions’ game. If you have a plan, just say it and not beat around the bush.

“Or stay hidden in the treeline.” Finnick says.

“Which in just over four hours will be soaked with water from the ten o’clock wave.” he smiles, “Then what happens at midnight?”

“Lightning strikes that tree.” Katniss points.

“Here’s what I propose,” Beetee starts, “We leave the beach at dusk. We head to the lightning tree, that should draw them back to the beach. Prior to midnight, we then run this wire–” he motions to it, and then goes to pointing, “–from the tree, to the water. Anyone in the water, or the damp sand, will be electrocuted.’

The two morons sitting in the sand feel it between their fingers as if they don’t know what damp sand feels like by now. You clench your teeth and close your eyes, leaning your head back.

Maybe you should just stay here and quit following them around.

“How do we know that the wire’s not going to burn up?” Johanna asks.

“Because I invented it.” he says, “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Johanna and Finnick share a look, and you can practically hear the conversation. Asking if it’s worth it, the other says it won’t. There’s really nothing left to lose, so you all might as well do it.

And then, Finnick looks at you, “What’re you thinking, (Y/n)?”

“Is there a look on my face?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Finnick cracks a smile, “I’m asking because you know these tricks best.”

Sighing, you lean forward, “Not that you actually care, you’re going to go through whatever you feel like is best. But if you want my opinion, Brutus is one man. We can take him on, it’s not like he’s impossible to kill. The fact that you’re going through will all of this though--” you motion between the sand and the coil of wire, “--is stupid.”

“But if you were with him, would you come after us?” Katniss asks.

“Without a doubt. However, he’s by himself, he’s smarter than you guys take him for, he’s gonna wait till we split up or something. Also, since he’s the last hope of a career--since I am very clearly tainted by your ideals--he’s pampered. The motherfucker will have everything that he could wish for.”

Johanna laughs, “Well, Beetee’s plan is better than hunting him down.”

You roll your eyes, laying back against the tree again. You don’t know why you bother.

What’s even more annoying, is that you’re considering helping Brutus come after these pretentious dicks. And now that you know their plan, it makes it even better. You and Brutus would be able to avoid the beach for a while, and if it does get electrocuted, the sand will likely be partially glass anyway.

And since you know the jungle better than Brutus does at this point, he’ll owe you more than he’ll like it.

“Yeah, why not? If it fails, no harm done anyway.” Katniss says.

Peeta nods, “Alright, I say we try it.”

“So what can we do to help?” Finnick asks.

Beetee pauses for a moment before answering, “Keep me alive for the next six hours? That would be extremely helpful.”

Beetee goes ahead and lists everything that he’ll be doing. For a while, you’re able to sit through his speech, until you develop a headache. Only then do you go ahead with getting up and wandering to the cornucopia just to get away from everyone. If you do decide to sneak off, it’ll be easier to do when there’s a structure blocking their view.

You’ve got hours to burn before you have to leave the beach and go to the trees.

It isn’t until you’re pretty far along the rocks when you realize that you’re not alone. In fact, there’s quite a lot of splashing happening in the water. Instinctively, you move closer to the other side of the rock, not really wanting to look and see if there’s a fucking mutt that also lives inside of the water. On top of the fact that the gamemakers can spin you dizzy if they feel like it.

“Smart.”

“Holy fuck, Finnick.” you stop, raising your face to the sky, “Do you ever give people personal space?”

“Remember what happened the last time we were in the middle?”

You look at Finnick now, “As you guys said, he’s probably staying hidden in the trees! Won’t come out until we’re fuckin’ gone, so what’s the harm in wandering around?”

Finnick comes up to the rocks, crossing his arms and pulling himself with them, “Was that rhetorical or do you really want to know.”

You crouch down, “What are you here for?”

“Keeping an eye on you.”

“Afraid I’ll run?”

“After that homicidal look you had on your face listening to Beetee, yeah.”

You offer your hand to him, and he takes it, so you pull him up, “Beetee not only had an annoying voice, but doesn’t know when to shut up.” you look at where he’s sitting with Johanna, “She’s probably wanting to kill him too.”

You don’t wait for Finnick to pull himself up. The cornucopia is empty, there’s no one here but you and Finnick.

You wish that there weren’t cameras everywhere. You wish that you’d be able to have a full conversation with Finnick, cutting out all the secret words. You want to ask him what happened if this plan of his actually comes true. Who’s bringing them out of here? And when?

You have a vague idea, Beetee said that you guys should keep him alive for the ‘next six hours’, and not anything past that. That’s significant, right? Maybe it will happen tonight, after all.

“What’s on your mind?” Finnick takes a seat on the box while you six in the black sand.

“Six hours to keep him alive is very specific, don’t you think?” you ask, hoping that he catches on, “Do you think he has any big plans after that?”

“He might, after midnight. Just depends if it all goes according to plan.”

Something might happen after midnight--doesn’t make sense to you, “Well, Chaff is dead already,” the cannon went off an hour ago, it can’t be Brutus, you just know it, “And if we do kill Brutus, that just leaves us.”

“Yes it does.” Finnick says.

“Which means that I should branch off while I can.” you squint, waiting for him to object.

“We’d just have to go after you next, since you have a vendetta against Peeta and Katniss, after all.”

“So I should stick around?”

“We might surprise you.” Finnick smiles.

You stand again, heading over to the water, facing it, “Yeah? And what happens if they shoot first?”

“Come on, (Y/n). You’re telling me that you won’t be anticipating it the entire time?”

He’s amused, which annoys you. All of this is such a walk in the park for him, and he can clearly tell that none of this is as easy for you. You don’t know if you can put your trust in their hands, considering that they know your motives. If you let your guard down for even a little bit, they’d be able to take you out.

Finnick is always so smug when it comes to things. Whoever is really behind this, he must believe in them a lot. They have to be really good at whatever they’re planning to do if this is the way to go.

“I will.” you admit, “If Katniss even twitches, I’ll wipe out that boy of hers.” you slam the glaive into the rock, smiling a little bit, “And while she’s grieving, I’ll take her next.”

“You fantasize about death a lot?”

“For them, yes.” you look over your shoulder, “Could you imagine the shock on the Capitol citizen’s faces when I take out the girl on fire and her useless boyfriend? They’d loathe me.”

“You’d get yourself in trouble.”

“I’m already in trouble. I had tons of people betting on me, and I’ve wasted their precious money.”

He snorts, “They’ll have more to waste next year, too.”

If there is a next year.

“When do we head back to the others?” you ask.

“Is the sun hitting the trees yet?” Finnick is behind you, and just before you’re able to slip out of his fingers, he places his hands on your waist and leans forward, “Looks like we’ve still got some time.”

“Annie Cresta is sobbing in her psychotic rocking chair.” you elbow him to get him off, and he obliges, “What made you like her, anyway?”

“What made you like me?”

You laugh, “Ha! You think I give a shit about you!” you then deadpan, staring at him, “Sweetheart, I could drown you in these waters and come up victorious. You haven’t grown on me as much as you think you have.”

“You’re tolerating me more, whether you want to admit that or not.”

“Tolerating is a hell of a difference. Ticking time bomb--what was that song that Wiress was singing before she was subtly murdered by my admirer?” you mock a smile.

Finnick looks interested, “Admirer? Gloss admired you?”

“If you win these games, make sure they play back the tapes of every single time Gloss and I ran across each other. Watch his eyes, especially. And the interview, too, because he had the blessing of holding my hand for a minute while we played rebellion on live tv.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he laughs to himself, “(Y/n), you could have anyone you want, and yet you choose to be all by yourself.”

“What? Johanna and Beetee have a crush on me now? On top of you, and Gloss, and probably Brutus too.”

“Who said I’m on that list?” Finnick asks.

You hold up your finger, before moving behind him, placing your hands on his sides, leaning into his body as close as you can manage. He’s wet from being in the water, but the effect works.

“Go fuck yourself.”

You shove him in after that, watching as he flails, and then hits the water.

You pick up your glaive from the rocks as you move back to the cornucopia. It’s a couple of seconds before Finnick gets himself out of the water again. You don’t say a word to him, pulling out food from the boxes and chewing on it as you continue to dig through the shit.

“You don’t need to ask my permission to go to the others.” you tell him, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I’m going to sit here anyway.”

Not like he has much to do in the first place.

“Do you really think I would leave Annie for you?”

“No, and I don’t want you to either. The girl is nutty enough as it is, she’d just think that the next person she comes across that shows an interest will end up leaving her if they find their soulmate too.”

“You’d stay with someone even if they weren’t?”

You look up, “I don’t date.”

“Hypothetically, then.”

Sighing, you go back to what you were doing, “It’s not really hypothetical with me. The guy did fucking leave me because he found his soulmate when I was in the games. The motherfucker started dating her before I’d even come home. I wore his stupid trinket necklace into the games and everything.

“I was a teenager--whatever. But we had been together for years, so I would expect some hesitance, and maybe even remorse.” you look at Finnick, “If I were you, I wouldn’t even be considering leaving Annie. It would be a downgrade, because I don’t care about you, and she does.

“And before you say that ‘time would change that’, you’d be changing me, the person I am. I’m developed, I’m not changing anything. You choose someone who would love you forever, or someone who would loathe every detail about you.” you stop now, “If you saw a golden apple and a rotten apple in front of you, which would you pick? I know I would pick the golden one.”

“I am the golden one--”

“And I’m the rotten one for you.” you say, “And honestly, even if you do pick me, I don’t pick you. My opinion hasn’t changed since the tribute parade, you’re as unlikable as all the other rejects on the beach. The only people that have ever liked you are one of the three things, dead, crazy, or horny. And I’m not any of those.”

“No,” Finnick instantly disagrees, “You’re crazy.”

“Not for you.”

Finnick laughs, and doesn’t say anything more.

You pop open another box, and lo and behold sits your sai’s. You laugh, pulling them out and turning them over in your hands. They’re shiny, new as the day as they were made.

“Look at these!” the excitement bubbles out of you, “I knew that they were here somewhere. They wouldn’t have the weapons for everyone but me.”

“Aren’t those used for disarming people, though? Not really for killing?”

You look up at Finnick, “That’s the best part. The bluntness makes it hurt.”

Getting to your feet, you spin them in your hands, and then aim them towards Finnick. You give him a pretty big smile, and he knows what you want. He picks up his trident, pointing it at your chest.

“What happens if I accidentally stab you?” Finnick asks.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you won’t even get close.” you swing first.

The bar to the trident gets stuck in the sai, and with one healthy twist, you’ve already disarmed Finnick in three moves. You grab the trident before it hits the rock, and then you hand it back to Finnick.

“That was quick.” Finnick raises his eyebrows, “What else do you know?”

“How to shoot a bow, wield a number of swords that are different variations of the same model. I know how to use the trident you’re holding, and anything close to a spear--what else?” you look into the cornucopia, “Probably the whip, the mace--with and without the chain too. The axes that Johanna has, I’d be able to use that too, but it’s a little heavy for my liking.”

When you look at Finnick, he clearly doesn’t know what to think, “Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

“What can’t you do?”

“Swim well, and probably fish either. District Two is a barren wasteland.” you belt at least one of the sai’s before picking the glaive up, “Sun’s hit the trees, it’s about time we head back.”

You take the lead while Finnick lags for a moment.

The walk back is filled with questions, and more banter back and forth. By the time you get to the beach, the others are ready to go. Everyone packs up their shit--not that there’s much in the first place--and then you all head into the jungle, one by one.

Finnick, Beetee, Peeta, Katniss, Johanna, and then you. Johanna and you had a power struggle for a moment, until Finnick said that you probably should be kept away from Katniss and Peeta since you’re more dangerous than you let on. Johanna laughed in your face, but didn’t argue.

You guess that he isn’t wrong. You could take any of their weapons and thrive. One of the perks of being a games-trained tribute, rather than an unsuspecting child. You were taught to be able to use anything, which doesn’t mean that you don’t have preferences when it comes to certain things, of course.

You’d prefer an sai because it’s able to disarm people pretty quickly. It’s unrealistic in a deadly fight though, so you’d always go for something more simple as a sword. You would have picked that instead, if it weren’t for the fact that swords are basic, and have average reach. A glaive, a spear, or a trident is a complete different story.

Throwing a glaive is going to be easier than throwing a sword. They’re built different, swords are meant to slice through the air to move quicker. While the glaive, spear, or trident are specifically designed to be able to be thrown without fucking it up. If you threw a sword, with the handle and the blade that it has, it would spin through the air. While the others specifically have a pole made for throwing.

Also, the tip of the spear is meant to guide the rest of the weapon. It’s heavy in that one spot mostly, as the rest of it is light material--or it’s supposed to be, at least. It’s going to be a lot harder to throw one thing straight than the other.

As the sun gets lower, the jungle gets darker. The heat might be less, but that doesn’t stop the humidity. You’re sweating out all the water you drank before this hike. The entire thing is uphill, and it’s pretty steep too. You can feel the burn in your calves from it.

Capitol music interrupts the silence. But while the others stop, you don’t bother. You can see their faces and their districts in your mind already. Cashmere and Gloss from District One, Cashmere being your kill, Gloss being Katniss. Wiress since Gloss has killed her before going down seconds later.

Mags because she died due to the poisonous fog in a noble sacrifice for Peeta. The girl from five, she drowned in the tidal wave that hit at ten this morning. Next is the female morphling that died for Peeta during the mutt attack, which was just an hour after Mags had died.

Blight, Johanna’s district mate because he ran head-first into the forcefield wall or whatever when he was blinded by the blood rain. The guy from ten died from an unknown mutt attack, which would later be the same fate for Chaff.

It’s you and Brutus, Beetee, Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss and Peeta left in here. Brutus is the odd man out, while the rest of you are in a supposed alliance. By now, in any other regular games, the tributes would be at each other’s throats already. If you all were careers--which, two of you are in this case--it would be even worse.

People would be picked off in their sleep, there would be no time to sort a plan out. Let everyone run in different directions and go from there. If you come across each other, it’s a fight to the death. Unless they’re making mini allies after that.

“Eager?” Finnick asks as soon as you get up to him.

“If I stop walking now, then I’m not going to get back up.” you tell him, “Plus I know everyone that’s died already, and you know the exact amount too. Take a look at your arm.”

“You won’t take a moment to honor them?”

“I had planned to kill half of them, so no, I really won’t.” you then pause for a second, looking at Finnick, “May Mags have peace, though.”

Finnick cracks a smile, “You’re soft.”

You scowl at Finnick, before going back to the hill. Finnick keeps at your pace, and in no time, you’re reached the tree. Beetee passes you guys up.

“Minimal charring, impressive conductor… let’s get started.” Beetee says, heading over to the tree.

As everyone else follows him over, you decide to stay watch instead. Finnick doesn’t move either, probably deciding that it’ll be best to stick by your sick.

“Lost puppy.” you mutter.

Beetee gets the wire going around the tree, and since it’s made up of a bunch of small trees, Beetee focuses on those and not the one main part. It takes a while before he finally gets a rhythm down, he goes much faster after that.

And since he’s Beetee, he’s also blabbing his mouth while he does it, “Typically, a lightning strike contains five billion volts of energy.”

“Fascinating.” Finnick snickers, and you look over to give him a look of amusement.

“We don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits.”

Beetee finishes up with the wire, and then he begins off in the direction that you guys came from, holding it out to Katniss, “You girls go together now, take this. Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire coil is in the water, you understand? Then head to the tree at the two o’clock center, we’ll meet you there.”

Katniss looks between Beetee and Johanna, like she doesn’t know what to think of this. Too bad for her, you’re not entirely sure either. You have no clue what the hell is going on, but from the look on Finnick’s face, he wants you to play along.

“I’m going to go with them as a guard.” Peeta says.

You laugh, “As if you’d be much help.”

“No, you’re staying here to protect me.” Beetee then adds, “And the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta says in a mock authoritative tone.

“Brutus is the size of two careers, I need two guards.”

“Finnick and (Y/n) can protect you just fine.” Peeta tries.

“Last time I checked, you’re not a girl,” you lean on the glaive.

“Yeah, why can’t Finnick and (Y/n) protect you, and Peeta, Johanna and I take the coil?”

“You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?” Beetee comes closer, glasses halfway down his nose.

“It’s his plan, we all agreed to it,” Johanna says.

Finnick chimes in too, “Is there a problem, here?”

“Excellent question.” Beetee waits for an objection.

There is none, “No, there’s no problem.”

Katniss goes to say goodbye to Peeta, and you give a look to Johanna, “I’m not holding the wire.”

“I don’t plan on it either.” Johanna says.

Johanna gives Katniss another second before telling him to pick up the pace. After that, the three of you leave to go down the hill to the sand. As you go down the way you came, you realize that Johanna seems to have an entire path planned out, she’s got a goal.

As much as you hate to say it, you’ve got to follow her lead, especially if you might screw up whatever it is that she has to do. With what Finnick said and all earlier this evening, midnight or after. Six hours has come upon you guys quite quickly, it’s not even thirty minutes or so until the lightning does happen.

You go down the hill first, allowing Johanna and then Katniss go behind you. Johanna seemed to have wanted it this way, and she even encouraged you to be the one that went first. You’d like to be paranoid about it being because she can literally backstab you in this position, but you don’t have the energy for this.

You’d really like to know the point of going all the way up the hill to wrap a wire around a tree only for it to turn out that you’d literally be going back down the hill maybe an hour to a half hour later.

It’s mostly just silence, the most difficult part is going down the rocks. You use the glaive as a walking stick as you carefully lower yourself down onto each rock. With Johanna and Katniss, Johanna takes the bow from her to allow Katniss to get down safely. Also allowing her to focus on the safety of the wire.

Johanna hands the bow back, and then says, “Come on. I want to put as much distance between me and this beach as possible. Frying is not how I want to go.”

You guys walk a couple more steps, until the sound of the wire unspooling stops altogether, and Katniss comes to a halt too. When you turn around to see, the wire is pulled tight, and each time Katniss tugs, it doesn’t move.

“There’s something…” Katniss trails off, leaning forward a little bit.

This isn’t a coincidence, you give a look to Johanna just before the wire snaps, and she nods at you. The moment you look back at the place where the wire had been stuck, Brutus emerges. In the same moment, Johanna grabs the wire from Katniss and hits her over the head with it.

“Keep an eye on him.” Johanna murmurs lowly, and she doesn’t really have to tell you twice.

Whatever Johanna does, it makes Katniss scream. By the time Johanna stands again, there’s blood on her hands, you watch as she reaches for her axe, but you stop her. You grab the sai on your belt and throw it, before shoving Johanna to get her running.

She doesn’t hesitate, and she might even be grateful of the fact that she won’t be fighting Brutus with her two tiny fists.

“Is he following?” Johanna asks.

You pause for a moment, listening, until Brutus comes running at you from the fucking trees. You swing the glaive, allowing him to dodge and get out of the way. You slip under his arm when his attention is then turned to Johanna. After that, you scramble your way up to higher ground.

As you go up, you dig your hand into your boot, searching for the pocketknife. However, you can’t seem to find it at first. You stop, make your way up to the top of the hill first, before pulling the boot off. The knife drops into the leaves, and you pick it up, flicking it open.

After that, you take off running without the shoe. You can feel the rocks and needles poking into your foot with every single step you take. You keep an eye on your right, looking for Brutus’ shiny bald head in the moonlight. And when you’re sure you caught a glimpse of it, you take a couple of steps back.

You catch your breath the best you can, and when you feel the adrenaline run through your body like a shot of energy, you bolt towards the cliff. When you hit the edge, you push off, and pull the knife over your head. Johanna clearly sees you behind him, over him, flying down like an eagle catching its prey.

Then, you sink the knife straight into the back of Brutus’ neck. It doesn’t kill him immediately, but he does fall flat onto his elbows. It’s not over yet, the cannon hasn’t signaled so you pull the knife out and sink it straight into the back of Brutus’ skull.

The cannon goes off, and you dip your head a little bit, sucking in the air between your teeth.

“Shit.”

“Don’t fucking mention it.” you tell her, getting up again, “You should find Katniss, or whatever.”

“Yeah, you’re okay?”

“Are you? I left you alone for a minute.”

“No dents.” she says.

She takes off after that, and you nod a little to yourself. You take the same path that you did the first time, finding your shoe at the top. You yank the sock off, shove your foot into the boot, pick up the glaive and then start towards the tree. You only know you’re heading in the right direction when you can see glimpses through the trees.

You slam into something solid, but you grab onto it before you bounce off. It takes you a second to realize that it’s no tree, it’s Finnick. His eyes are wide and he looks over you.

“Who’s blood--”

“Brutus, he’s dead. Johanna went to look for Katniss.”

“Peeta ran off when the cannon--we need to find Katniss first.”

“What’s the plan?” you ask, stopping Finnick.

“Find who you can and bring them back to the tree.”

This is chaos.

“Okay,” you agree, “Yeah, alright.”

You go to go by yourself, but Finnick pulls you along with him. The two of you run through the trees a little bit as he calls out for Johanna, and Peeta and Katniss. When you guys take a moment to get your heads back, you suggest that they might have just gone back to the lightning tree.

“Yeah--okay.” Finnick says.

“I’m going to look for another minute or so, I’ll be there in a second.” you push him.

“No, come with me.”

“Finnick, if they’re not at the tree, they’re out here.” you pause for a second, “I’m not going to kill anyone, promise. Just go.”

He clearly doesn’t want to agree, but he heads in that direction anyway. And just as you said, you search the ground, in the bushes, leaves and trees. You’re mainly hoping that Peeta is pulling his stupid camoflauge stunt, but you’re not entirely sure how he would have enough time to do that.

Nevertheless, you kick in bushes, and peek into trees that are split open. You sweep your foot between rocks, hoping that you’ll find something squishy, or a groan of complaint, but there really is nothing.

Another couple of minutes, and then you decide that they have to be back at camp at this rate, right?

“Johanna?” you yell, fed up with this quiet game, because there is no threat anymore, “Peeta?”

Just as there’s rustling in the leaves, an explosion goes off above you. You crouch, covering your head as you meekly look to see what caused it. Your mouth falls open when you see the sky of the arena is black, and the hexagons that hold the arena together, are coming loose.

“What the fuck?” Johanna asks.

“Did you find Peeta?”

“No, Finnick or Katniss?”

“Finnick went back to the tree.” your voice sounds far away.

The hexagons are falling now, the mouth of the arena is now on fire. You can see all the construction that’s behind the making of these places. The tree is so far up the hill, it would take a lot of energy to run all that way again.

Neither you or Johanna move, though, staring at the opening. Then, a familiar black mass appears in the bright blue sky, lowering a claw. All the way down, until it sweeps up Beetee.

You start moving towards the tree, keeping your eyes on the hovercraft, watching as it gets dropped down a second time.

“(Y/n)--!” Johanna starts.

“I’m not staying in here!” you yell back at her, “I’m getting the fuck out of here even if it kills me!”

You struggle going up the ledge of dirt, and then the rocks too as you try not to make them dislodge and tumble. Johanna doesn’t follow you, almost like she knows something and you don’t.

The claw goes down a third time, and some sick feeling in your stomach tells you that it’s the final time. You push yourself the best you can, but you can feel your body giving up already. And just as you make it into the clearing, Finnick is already getting lifted into the air.

The ground shakes with every hexagon that falls. The jungle is on fire, and you can smell the burning wood, giving you a headache. But you don’t move from where you’re standing, watching as the claw is brought in. And just as you anticipate it coming out the fourth time.

The hovercraft flies away.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia chapter ten #metanoia

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wetalkinboutbooks · 4 years

Text

Reaper of Souls by Rena Barron

Summary: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. Now the last surviving witchdoctor, she’s been left to pick up the shattered pieces of a family that betrayed her, a kingdom in shambles, and long-buried secrets about who she is.

Desperate not to repeat her mother’s mistakes, Arrah must return to the tribal lands to search for help from the remnants of her parents’ people. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible—if it’s something she can bring herself to do at all.

Set in a richly imagined world inspired by spine-tingling tales of voodoo and folk magic, Kingdom of Souls was lauded as “masterful�� by the School Library Journal in a starred review. This explosively epic sequel will have readers racing to the can’t-miss conclusion. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:

→ Geena: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌗

→ Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: A messy sequel to an amazing series, we get to see the after effects of the fall out of Arrah vs. Efiya from KOS… and when we tell you it is MESS!!!

~Spoiler-Full Review Below~

The Good:

→ Arrah and Dimma

Geena: One of my favourite things about Reaper was the sprinkle of Dimma’s POVs throughout the story. We got an insight into Dimma’s life before she was Arrah, and how her relationship with the other Orisha and Daho developed. It also really helped build up the suspense near the end and set up plot twists that clocked us near the end. Dimma aside, let’s talk about Arrah. Rena Barron said brooding boys are out, brooding girls are IN! And you know what, we love to read it. The story starts off with Arrah trying to save Sukkar after she snapped all his bones while trying to save him, and she does save him :) Or so she thinks but that’s besides the point. Over the length of the book we follow Arrah’s inner turmoil of suddenly having the power of 10 tribal chieftains and being insecure about whether or not she even deserves it.

I loved Arrah, even when she was holding herself up to a terribly high bar and beating herself up about everything she did. Arrah helped bring her Auntie back from the dead and was like “Damn I suck :/” and thought shattering a girl’s glass (who was flirting with Rudjek) put her on the same level as her mom and Efiya. I was sitting there like NO GIRL YOU’RE PERFECT, YOU, YOUR MISSING TOOTH AND YOUR PETTY NATURE!!

Kae: YAAAAAAAAAS! Geena summed Arrah and Dimma up perfectly.

But I would like to add how much I love Arrah and how selfless she is. She’s always thinking about her friends and their safety, the safety of the tribal people, and of course the kingdom. She’s a worry woman, but for all the right reasons. And she also cares about herself; so much even that like Geena said, she beats herself up for the smallest of things. She’s so worried about being evil like her mother and her sister, that she calculates every single move that she makes, debating if it’s really worth it to use strong magic or not.

As for Dimma, I loved her POV’S. She is a complex character who has been demonized since book 1. We were taught to believe, through the POV of some of the Gods, that Dimma was a horrible Goddess who wrought nothing but chaos. They erased her name from history, LITERALLY. And Dimma became known as the Unnamed Orisha. While reading her POV, we learn that Dimma was quite selfless, much like Arrah (since they are technically the same person). Dimma was full of love and loved even harder. She went out of her way to give Daho immortality as well as his people, because she loved them so much. She defied the rules of the universe for her love, and it only came to bite her in the ass in the end. Like her siblings told her, “A God’s love is a dangerous thing.” And it was, but not exactly for the reasons one might think.

Geena: Kae’s summary of Dimma and Arrah is AMAZING, you know my ability to connect dots when reading is kinda shit so reading Kae’s summary gave me realization… Arrah tries so hard to separate herself from Dimma, because she refuses to believe that a part of her is in love with Daho because she herself is in love with Rudjek… but it’s like girl… you have travelled to the ends of the earth to fight and bring back the people you love (the tribespeople) just like Dimma searched the ends of the universe for immortality to give to Daho. It’d be much easier to reconcile your feelings if you just accepted that “Okay, I may have been Dimma but now I am Arrah”

Also another thing I love about Arrah is how she had…. For a time… three dudes in love with her… or at least what she thought was three dudes. Real hot girl shit.

→ Rudjek and Daho

Geena: You know the character archetype that’s like a snarky boy who knows he’s hot shit and acts accordingly, but when it comes to the person he’s in love with he’s just a bowl of mush. That’s Rudjek, and only Rudjek can pull it off. In KOS, he was slated to be the next vizier because of his father, in Reaper he’s known as a prince because his dad snaked his way into becoming the monarch. So, now he’s the snarky prince…. And the only snarky prince with rights! His POVs were actually so fun to read, like following the politics of the Kingdom and him dealing with his new craven powers…. Which also had him being able to smell pheromones when people were doing the dirty around him 😭

I really liked that Rena gave him a POV, because now we get to see how he develops given the fact that him and Arrah are dangerous to one another, because he saps her magic with a single touch and could kill her. The whole time Arrah is stressing like “Damn, what if he doesn’t like me anymore because we can’t touch” meanwhile Rudjek is like “I’ll fight the Gods if I have to, to keep her by my side” and it’s like 🥺Also, who let a teenager be in control of a whole army… I thought the vizier was a sly and smart man but I digress… Another thing I liked about Rudjek in this book was that he didn’t shy away from uncomfortable conversations with Arrah, regarding the fact that he confused Efiya for Arrah when they did the unspeakable in the clearing in KOS. Like, that was very mature of them and I’m glad they could deal with that misunderstanding… But… hands down… my favourite scene… During the climax of the book Rudjek gets a demon soul shoved down his body, and immediately assumes it’s the demon king…. And his only command to his friends is to not let him near Arrah😭😭😭 I was like PEAK ROMANCE, SOFTEST SHIT, SACRIFICIAL LOVER!!!!!

Kae: SO GEENA SUMMED UP RUDJEK SO DAMN WELL. LIKE DUDE OMG? Correct. He is perfect. I really don’t have much to add but I just genuinely loved him as a character. He is caring for both Arrah and his friends. He is also one of the few male characters I’ve read that actively tries to go against their father. Most dudes in books are like “Fine puhpa, I shall do your evil bidding.” But Rudjek is like “Sike bitch, I’ll let you think that but I’m doing what I WAAAANT!”

But okay, let’s talk about Daho. So first off, I love him??? Am I a villain sympathizer now? Tbh, I don’t really see him as a villain. Man’s didn’t commit a genocide or try to scheme Arrah out of her pants. AND HE VERY MUCH HAD THE CHANCE TO and he was like “nah.” And I appreciate that. Because there are a few certain villainous men who I shan’t name, that be on that scant shit. And Daho is just like… genuinely trying to avenge his wife’s death (Dimma) and try to get Arrah to remember that she is Dimma.

YES, I know he got Arti to bring him back. BUUUUUT, he didn’t tell her to kill a bunch of kids and shit to do it. Arti did all that evil shit on her own and Daho was like “look, i don’t condone that shit. But it’s over and I’m sorry it happened but I can’t change it.” And I’m like… okay, mood. I get it. Daho is sweet and caring. He looked out for Arrah in *redacted’s* body because we didn’t know *redacted* was dead the whole time. And even then, Daho was still like “My bad… But he wasn’t using his body??? So I took it???” Why let it go to waste, amiright?

Geena: STOOOOP FOR REAL HE WAS LIKE “It was empty, I didn’t think you’d mind”

Kae: LMAOOO OKAY BUT DEADASS. And like, idk man. He just seriously isn’t a bad person. He was trapped because after the God’s killed Dimma, he was like “BET IMMA JUST KILL THEM” and they lowkey were shook so they trapped his ass in a box for a millenia or whatever. He wasn’t even out to kill all humanity or anything. The God’s were just being some haters and now he’s suddenly the bad guy. Anyway, we stan Daho in this house.

Geena: Daho is how you write a sympathetic villain. He owns up to his own mistakes even while his demons run free terrorizing people. Kae said it best that he just wants justice for his wife and unfortunately history is written by the victors so the Orisha painted him out to be a bad guy… My dude was just chugging that respecting my wife juice and they killed her… and he also thinks they killed his son… Guess me and Kae are just villain sympathizers now

The Bad:

→ The Ending

Kae: Okay, let’s get it. And I also just want to clarify that when we say “the bad”, we don’t mean we hate it. This is just something that was like “oh fuck, this is BAAAAD! THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOOOWN.”

But like, good Lord. The ending? That shit was crazy. First of all, we find out that *redacted* aka, SUKKAR. OUR SWEET, PLAYFUL, SARCASTIC SUKKAR. IS DEAD. HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME!? Excuse me while I *SCREEEEEEEEEEEAM*. Like, what an unforeseen twist. This mf kicked the bucket back in KOS when Arrah tried to save him. Turns out… She maybe… Totally… possibly… Absolutely killed my guy on accident. He dead-dead. And this is how we find out that Daho took over his body, once Sukkar’s spirit ascended. It was a really sad reveal and my heart kind of hurt reading it. I straight up wasn’t expecting that to happen. THEEEEEN. GOTDAMN EFIYA. IS BROUGHT BACK.

Geena: No joke, the ending of Reaper was just one sucker punch followed by another… At first you think Tyrek (the prince from KOS who joins Arrah and her crew on a journey to save the tribespeople) is the demon king, then you think it’s Rudjek because he’s getting possessed, and then you learn it’s Sukkar… The final punch to the gut was Daho bringing back Efiya because his close general asked for her… because she’s his daughter. We were like, DAHO ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU SAW THE DAMAGE SHE DID TO THE HUMANS!!! Like Efiya may have grown quickly in a few months but her brain isn’t fully developed, like that girl is UNHINGED!!! I thought we were done with the Efiya chapter but here we are, and I’m scared to see what role she’ll play in the final instalment of the series. I guess this is the case of bringing back an old villain that can work out really well… I trusted Rena with the messy Arrah/Daho/Rudjek love triangle, so I trust her with this too

The Ugly:

→ Tyrek

Geena: Remember how I said Rudjek is the only valid snarky prince… Yea, Tyrek can CHOKE!! In KOS he sides with Efiya and she wreaks havoc in the Kingdom, and in Reaper he’s brought to his knees. Rudjek’s dad wants to execute him for his crimes, but Arrah sympathizes with him because she knows how Efiya’s mind control worked. As you read, you get a sense of “Okay, maybe he isn’t bad, he’s helping Arrah and them” but then you get to the climax and you’re like okay nvm this boy was insane… Imagine travelling to a whole other dimension and making deals with demons, because you’re in a fucked up sort of romance with a half-demon girl. He managed to lie to Arrah that he was being controlled by Efiyah, when he was really with Efiya the whole way…. Even when she told him to murder his whole family… this man was vile!! He’s also one of our first fake outs, when he pretends to be the demon king I was kinda disappointed… I was like no this ruins the messy love triangle I’ve been waiting for! But it was just a fake out, Tyrek was just trying to scare Arrah into freeing Efiya, whose soul was in the demon dagger that Arrah used to kill her in KOS. Overall, 1/10 for this man… the 1 point is for when he figured out “Sukkar” had a crush on Arrah before Arrah even knew.

Conclusion

Kae: So, I don't have much to add to Tyrek’s snake ass. He really was ugly in the end. I’m glad he’s dead.

But to conclude, this was such an amazing, refreshing read. Reaper of Souls was a wonderful sequel to Kingdom of Souls. Rena writes so beautifully and she didn’t hesitate to have us readers shaking in our boots. Getting more background information on Dimma, the Gods, and their old ass war, was really fun and insightful! IT added to the story in a way I hadn’t even thought about until I was consuming it all!

Arrah and Rudjek are perfect angels and I can’t wait to see where book three leads them. I also want to give a shout out to Essnai and Majka for being such good friends to Arrah and Rudjek. Same to Kira and the Cravens. This is a really close knit group of friends who will go to the ends of the Earth (and literally new dimensions) for each other. THAT’S LOVE, BITCH. And we LOVE to see it.

Geena: For real! Rena Barron set up such an amazing cast of characters, and she really emphasizes the power of friendship in her series and it’s one of my favourite things to read. With Reaper, from the very start, she sets up the story in such a way you’re literally screaming by the end… I think it requires a special kind of skill to be able to set up a story so well that while you do make predictions about what’s going to happen, it still shocks you when you realize you’re right. Cannot wait to see the absolute mess that will be the final book, with Rudjek/Arrah vs. Daho… and the drama it will bring now that the Orishas realize that Arrah is Dimma’s reincarnation.

#Reaper of Souls #Rena Barron #YA #Kingdom of Souls #booklr #book review #wetalkinboutbooks #bookish #book blogging #book blogger #books #reading #Arrah #Rudjek #our post

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bakusoftie · 5 years

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How about Deku, Katsuki and Todoroki being turned into a cat ( or whatever pet you want ) for a week and their fem s/o taking care of them (like petting,feeding,and playing with them) until they turn back ?

this is so cute omfg

y’all

i fucking love cats

Izuwu, Bakubabe, and Icycutie turning into cats for a week

🥦 izuwu 🥦

apparently some general studies student hated class 1-A so bad that they used their quirk to turn the innocent lil deku into a tiny white munchkin cat with his emerald green eyes and three black spots of fur on his cheeks

he looked so ADORABLE AHHHH

you were walking towards the dorms when you hear the cries of a kitten and looked down at your feet to find the cutest cat you have ever laid eyes on

“Hey there lil buddy!,” you cooed as you picked the ball of fluff up and rested him on your chest.

you thought he reminded you of your crush from the color of his wide green eyes

you couldn’t stop yourself from pecking kisses all over his fluffy face

izuku was sent into a flurry of purrs as he nuzzled his head into your warm chest

he felt kind of bad since you had no idea it was him but he felt so safe and complete being snuggled in your arms and he never wanted to leave

you snook the cute ass fur ball in your room, not before raiding the kitchen for a bowl of milk and leftover pork cutlet bowl that belonged to Denki (it’s okay you left him some money for McNuggets)

you laid the stubborn kitten on your bed but he kept wanting to bury his head in your warmth

“Awww, I’m gonna name you...Deku!,”

the kitten raised his head when he heard that and started licking your hand as if he was giving you little kitty kisses

“You must like that name,huh? It’s because you remind me of him...because you both are so cute!!”

Izuku crawls into your lap and nuzzles his head against your thighs and thinks ‘damn this is the life’

he would never get to do this when he returns to his human form so he for sure will milk the fuck out of this

when your hand comes down to scratch his neck, he swears he has reached heaven as his purring increases and he lets out a little “prrt”

He’s fucking love it

Until he sees you getting undressed...

Then he bulldozes his face into your pillow and let’s out a series of ‘meows’ that kinda sound like his muttering

If you stroke his fur while he eats, he feels like he’s going to combust from joy please don’t stop

6 days later when you’re so used to having this little kitten follow you everywhere and giving you cuddles, you also start to wonder why izuku hasn’t been coming to class lately

until one night when you and Izukitty are cuddling, him being curled into a ball on your boobies

And you feel the fuzzy warmth on your chest start to get heavier

two questions

where did your cat go?

WHY IS IZUKU NAKED AND STRADDLING YOUR WAIST

Izuwu is so flustered and he can’t hardly get a word out except...

“M-Meow?”

💥kitsuki bakukitty💥

ma there's a weird-looking fucking cat outside

seriously...bakugou as a cat is fucking frightening

do not give this fucker CLAWS

well somebody did

and bakugou was fucking pissed

he couldn’t do anything for himself and his quirk wouldn’t even fucking work

not to mention he keeps hacking up disgusting fucking hairballs

it was your turn to take the dorm’s trash out when you see a

sort of cute-looking?

ash-blonde cat with sharp red eyes staring into your soul.

THIS FUCKER POUNCED ON YOUR LEG

CLAWS DIGGING INTO YOUR FLESH

he is literally ‘my cat from hell’

But you thought his aggressive actions just meant he was an abused stray that needed to be nutured

uh bitch

you was w r o n g

you also thought his fur and eyes kinda looked like your crush, Katsuki

so of course,

you named the kitty

katsukitty

he did not wike it

you got so many cat scratches BITCH YOU STARTING TO LOOK LIKE VICTOR ZSASZ

you googled “how to tame an agressive cat” on wikihow and it said to spend time with the cat and play with him so

you took that bitch to your room

and got out a ball of yarn and a laser pointer

“let the chaos begin, katsukitty 😈”

let me just tell you that this bitch’s meows sound like he’s being fucking drowned like

he’s so ugly LMAOASKKS

but the angry little kitten gets used to you and rubs his head your hand as he gets ready to ATTack and nibble the fuck out of your finger

you text kiri to come over and meet your new little friend and

the moment he smells the stench of another male coming up into his territory (aka you)

he fucking asshole

bites a fucking chunk out of kiri’s lightening mcqueen crocs

kiri: gEt yOur fUckinG cAt, BiTch

you: he don’t bite 🙂

kiri: yES hE dO

im so sorry kiri but

those crocs were ugly anyway

katsukitty did you a favor

bakugou is such an asshole cat like he literally jumped up on your dresser for the sole purpose of knocking your limited edition Best Jeanist Funko POP to the floor

yOu shiTTy BitcH

you had to get a spray bottle full of water after he scratched up the All Might t-shirt that Izuku bought you for your birthday

jealous heaDASS

he won’t let anyone inside your room

I mean you saw what he did to kiri’s crocs

So when mineta thought he would be slick and sniff your panties while you were in the shower

Katsukitty didn’t even have to touch the fucker

he just growled and mineta shit his pants

he protecc

he attacc

but most importantly

he a snacc

speaking of snacks,,,

if you try to feed him that gross ass canned cat food

he will fuck your ass up

don’t even think about it

although...he was considering it 😳

but no

once you accidentally dropped some sriracha on the floor and his ass lapped that shit up

you swore to god that isn’t healthy for cats to eat but

you still gave him a whole bowl full

because he made him happy

and you could finally pet him while he ate without getting slice and diced

that’s how most your days were like until the end of the week when you were coming to your room after making Katsukitty a tiny version of Bakugou’s costume

but what you were met with was a naked Bakugou (with only a ball of yard to cover his privates) on your bed

“I’m going to get you back for calling me fucking ‘Katsukitty’ for a week,dumbass”

💙 IcyCutie ❤️

oh this defenseless baby

he has no clue how this happened to him but the moment he sees you, he has the urge to rub his head against your leg?

and he does

you look down when you feel something soft and furry brushing against your ankle

it’s this cute ass slender white cat with an orange spot that covers his left eye and head. His eyes are two different colors and you think he is the cutest thing to ever grace this earth

He’s literally many the ‘🥺’ face and

Your uwus have been

s n a t c h e d

Todorokitty wishes he could communicate with you somehow and tell you that it’s him but then you’re putting him up and holding him tightly against your breasts and

😳 big boobs? small boobs? no boobs? he do not care

his brain just goes: tiddy

honestly you could do whatever you want with him and he wouldn’t care

he’s kinda one of those cats that just want to sleep

he’s such an lazy cat like

just hold him and lay with him please

even as a cat, he is just so touchstarved

the only moment he shows any feral activity is when you brought some Zaria soba for yourself and nasty ass fish for him

this bitch yeeted the fish off the plate and when you’ve gone to go clean it up

THIS BITCH PUTS HIS FURRY ASS HEAD INSIDE THE BOWL

bitch almost drowned in that shit

feed him

peasant

he definitely gets used to you taking care of him and being treated like he’s special and loved because he never got that before so there’s times where he just stares at your with wide eyes and paws at your tummy

he gets the best sleep of his life being cushioned by your body

you are his bed now

sometimes he’ll leave the room and come back to leave you “gifts”

oh god

is that a fucking hamster?

😳 oh no

that’s koda’s hamster

“I understand that you were trying to do a good thing but you have committed an atrocity”

just wait until you get this hoe on some catnip 😈

normally he’s such a calm and collected kitty but once you sprinkle some of that good kush

he go ‘aRrrrOowwww’

he’s basically banging his head on the carpet trying to snort this shit the best he can

you and todorokitty have some good times and some bad times

but you do miss actually Todoroki

it makes you sad some nights because you thought he might be avoiding you

when he sees you sad, it reminds him of his mom tbh and he never wants you to feel this way,,especially if he’s literally right in front you

he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and put tiny kitten licks all over your face

👅 aaaulghh

the next day, you walked into your room after a trying day of school and flopped onto your bed where you thought your precious kitten was so you went to pet the little guy

except you were met with flesh

and i oop

😟

“are you naked? ewwwww.”

Shouto had no fucking shame

He just pulled you into his arms like nothing changed

“Shut up and let me love you, kitten”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #bakugokatsuki

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metalchickaf19 · 5 years

Text

The Bowers Gang: How the Guys Would React in a Haunted House With Their S/Os (Anonymous Request)

* Any and all credit for this idea goes to the requestor.

Belch

Okay, so let’s get something straight right off the bat:

This haunted house bullshit was not Huggins’ idea by any means, and you know why that is?

Because his manliness factor has only three distinct weaknesses: Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter, and freaky things jumping out at him when he’s not expecting it

So haunted houses, haunted hayrides, literally anything that has the word “haunted” associated with it?

Yeah, bro’s not about that shit by a long shot

... But his s/o wanted to go, and Huggins can’t say no to a romantic partner to save his life, so here we are

Starts off holding his s/o’s hand and trying to be their “rock”

... but makes it obvious how freaked out he is by squeezing their hand to a pulp (+ an inordinate amount of palm sweat, but we won’t embarrass our teddy bear by mentioning that)

Flinches back hard every time something pops out at him, then immediately tries to play it off with a (deeply uneasy) chuckle

Legit screams when he pokes a plastic crow, and it suddenly caws at him

Screams.

Hides behind his s/o (in a joking way) whenever he feels a jump-scare coming on

... but ends up hiding behind them the entire rest of the time, because genuine fear

All in all, kind of a wuss for 90% of the journey, but his comic relief tendencies and general distress give his partner the strength they need to be “the man” for 30 minutes

Overall haunted house “fun” rating: 6/10

Henry

Literally didn’t want to do this at all (because he and Huggins’ have similar feelings about being jump-scared)...

... but felt like he had to since his partner dragged him over, and Bowers isn’t about to back out of something that a literal girl is brave enough to do

Definitely one of those macho buzzkills who spends 75% of the time talking about how stupid everything is (the settings, the costumes, everything - all of it is stupid)

Tries to look unfazed by everything, but visibly tenses a bit whenever something surprises him

Smirks a little whenever his s/o gets freaked out by something, and lives to let them hide their face in his chest

... But yes, he will make comments about what a wuss they are once the haunted housing is over, and it very well might carry over into the next day

Genuinely starts to loosen up and have some fun about halfway through the house (because guardian Bowers = happy Bowers)...

... but ultimately gets he and his s/o kicked out for physically assaulting one of the actors

You know that chainsaw guy who usually pops out and chases people for a while?

Yeah, Bowers wasn’t feeling that shit for one second

Hey - invade a vicious dog’s personal space, your ass is gonna get bit. That’s all I have to say on the matter

Low-key enjoyed himself despite thinking he would hate the whole thing, but gives his s/o an earful about how crappy the experience was, regardless

Overall haunted house “fun” rating: 4/10

Patrick

Oh my God, Hockstetter is so ready for this shit

Made a beeline for the haunted house the second he and his s/o got out of the car, and walked directly to the front of the line because fuck it

Forces his s/o out in front of him the entire time (legit clamps his hands down on their shoulders and pushes them forward, despite massive resistance)

Laughs hysterically at all the gory imagery around him... non-stop

Seriously. It’s borderline concerning how at home the dude seems to feel

Randomly screams just to make his s/o scream (because high-key sadistic bastard)

Grabs/taps/tazes his s/o at random intervals (same reason)

Literally laughs in the faces of all the actors that jump out at him to the point where it’s like... why are you even here?

... But just ends up using that to his advantage, ‘cause the actors start primarily going for his partner

Holds his s/o in place whenever they try to flinch away from something (again, because serial killer-esque behavioral problems)

Eventually ghosts on his s/o completely and leaves them alone to walk through the rest of the haunted house

Where did Hockstetter go?

Outside.

Dude’s literally just standing there listening to his s/o call his name and scream

Yup - he’s laughing about it. Good on you for guessing that

Altogether, a decently fun experience, provided you’re not someone who’s scared shitless when you’re alone (in which case, I’m sorry about that anxiety attack)

Overall haunted house “fun” rating: 8/10

Victor

Kind of thinks haunted houses are dumb (because high-key intellectual), but is willing to check it out on the off-chance it’s scary

Is happy to be with his s/o, but looks incredibly bored the whole time

Like... the type of bored where your eyes look exhausted and your face couldn’t hide it if you tried; he’s just that done with this fake spooky shit

Mostly because he’s one of those people who can pick up on the house’s “scare” pattern right away, and basically figures out exactly when/where things are going to pop out (i.e. he’s so intelligent, it’s kind of a buzzkill right now)

Points out where things are going to happen right before they make noise/jump out (*Points to the left* “Right here.” *Scary thing pops out* *Points to the right* “Now here.” *Scary thing pops out*)

Comments on how fake things look/how they could’ve been done better

... But is more than happy to go into rooms first when his s/o is too freaked out to brave them (cue one “you’re so smol” Victor Criss smile)

In general, is the manliest man in the gang about this crap (not counting Hockstetter, because he’s an asshole about it) - lets his partner hold his arm the entire time, chuckles warmly at their dread, and makes them feel as comfortable as is possible in their current state of peril

Gets a little heated when actors invade his partner’s personal space (stopped dead in his tracks and told the chainsaw guy to “back off” in the iciest Victor Criss tone of voice ever)

... but mainly has a fun time being his s/o’s protector and looking like he has a backbone of steel

Overall haunted house “fun” rating: 7/10

#henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #the bowers gang #the bowers gang headcanons #it

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years

Note

19 with Victoria Chase and Chloe?

For whatever reason, I can’t seem to keep chaseprice stories short! Sorry this took so long, but I hope it’s worth it. I also immediately thought chaseprice when I saw that prompt (“According to this survey, most people agree you are, in fact, a gigantic asshole.”), so thanks for being on the same page with me there :) Unbeta’d and virtually unrevised despite how long it took me to write it, so please take it with a grain of salt.

Content warnings for misogynistic insults, underage drinking and drug use, and implied attempted sexual assault. Because teens in Arcadia Bay are awful to each other.

---

Chloe hasn’t seen Rachel since the first hour of the party. She stopped even getting texts from her about twenty minutes ago. She can already feel the familiar shapes of the argument they’re going to have tomorrow morning. Chloe will accuse Rachel of ditching her and ignoring her texts. Depending on how pissed she is, she might trot out the old dead horse about being abandoned by Max and flog that for a bit while Rachel fails to keep from rolling her eyes. Then Rachel will remind her about their agreement, that they’re both free agents and maybe if Chloe acted more like a free agent and less like a cuckolded wife she wouldn’t be so pissy all the time.

It’ll go back and forth for hours with Chloe whining about her abandonment issues and Rachel claiming that Chloe’s suffocating her, and at the end of it nothing will have changed. They’ll kiss and make up like they always do, but as soon as the next Vortex Club event comes around Rachel will insist on dragging Chloe and then she’ll ditch her in a crowd of people she hates and the whole cycle will start over again.

The whole thing is fucking exhausting, and Chloe’s sick of it.

Not as sick as Victoria Chase is, though; damn. It’s a hell of a sight: the Queen Bitch of Blackwell teetering drunkenly on ill-advised high heels - possibly only still on her feet because of the bodies of people dancing around her - and looking like she’s contemplating puking in her purse. She looks awful.

It would be more amusing if Rachel were there to make fun of her with Chloe. It would also be more amusing if it weren’t so painfully pathetic. Chloe’s way too sober to enjoy the sordid spectacle. Being the designated driver sucks ass, especially when the literal whole point of these parties is to get wasted.

Chloe almost jumps out of her skin when her phone suddenly - finally - buzzes in her pocket.

Rachel: U still at the party?

Chloe scowls at her phone.

Chloe: of fucking course i am

Chloe: where else would i be??

Chloe: im ur fucking dd

Rachel: o right! Srry I already caught a ride

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Rachel: c u 2morro tho

Rachel: 2 whales date? Not 2 early tho

Rachel: this hangover’s gona be a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch

Rachel: luv u <3 <3 <3 xoxoxo

Rachel: xxx

Rachel: ;P

Chloe buries her phone in her pocket, fuming. She can actually feel the anger rising off of her skin like steam. Obviously there’s no reason for her to continue being a designated driver if Rachel’s already fucked off with whatever Blackwell jock or cheerleader she’s decided to rail tonight. Chloe’s free to crash on the couch tonight with the rest of the drunk losers. Pass out in the bathtub maybe. There’s tons of booze in the kitchen; she should start there. Stoners are usually in the basement; they shouldn’t be hard to sniff out. Maybe if she’s lucky she’ll find the folks who’re always doing coke in some random bedroom or office and score a noseful. It’s not like she’s got classes in the morning. She can afford to live a little, as long as she’s not actually paying for it.

Chloe starts to push her way through the crowd to the kitchen.

“Watschh where yrr fffuckin goin…” slurs a messy but recognizable voice as a hand grips Chloe’s upper arm.

Jesus Christ, Victoria’s even more wasted than Chloe thought at first glance. Her hand on Chloe’s arm might be the only thing keeping her upright at the moment, which is the only reason why Chloe doesn’t immediately tear herself away.

“Careful, Vicky; poverty might be contagious.” Chloe attempts to pry Victoria’s fingers from around her arm to no avail.

The idiot jock standing behind Victoria laughs at that, but Victoria just looks confused. And drunk. So very, very drunk.

“Ffffug you, Chhhloe,” Victoria slurs out.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Wow, you must be shitfaced. That was practically my real name!” She carefully shoves Victoria back off of her arm as the jock moves to steady Victoria by holding onto her waist.

“C’mon, babe,” he says, leaning close to her ear. He grins at Chloe and winks like he thinks she’s in on some kind of conspiracy with him, which immediately pisses Chloe off. “I’ve got it from here,” he informs her.

Victoria groans something inarticulate and tries to push the jock away, but she ends up just stumbling back into his stupidly broad chest. She really shouldn’t get so drunk and wear such high heels at the same time; clearly, it’s a dangerous combination.

“Dude, I don’t think she wants to go with you,” Chloe says as calmly as she can. She really doesn’t want to get involved. She wants to get drunk and stoned and so blitzed out of her mind that she forgets all about being pissed at Rachel. She doesn’t want to get sucked into whatever drama Victoria’s got brewing tonight. But she also really doesn’t want to watch a drunk girl get mauled by some entitled meathead, even if said drunk girl is a royal pain in her ass.

“Nah, she’s good. Just needs some fresh air. C’mon, Tori, let’s go for a walk.”

“Don’ ffffuggin call me Tori,” Victoria growls, tugging her arm out of his too-firm grip and nearly falling right off her ridiculous and undoubtedly overpriced heels. “Iss Victoria.”

The creep ignores her and tugs on her arm again, toppling her into his body once more. “It’s cool,” he attempts to assure Chloe. “We’re friends. I’ll get her home safe.”

“She definitely doesn’t want to go with you. Let her go.”

“Dude, be cool! She’s just being a bitch. You know what Tori’s like.” He holds Victoria’s wrists to curtail her squirming.

“Fuggoff!”

Chloe cracks her knuckles loudly enough to get the jock’s attention. “I’ve got better things to do with my left hand tonight than break it on your nose, but if you don’t unhand her in the next five seconds I’ll do it anyway.”

That gives the jock pause, but he doesn’t look like he quite believes her. “You wouldn’t.”

Chloe shrugs. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask Logan why his nose slants to the right? Although he’ll probably lie. Ask his ex-girlfriend; she’ll tell you the truth.”

---

As Chloe guides a stumbling and incessantly bitching Victoria through the dark toward her truck, she silently curses every decision in her life that led her to this moment. It’s actually not that different from drunk-walking Rachel home after a party, except that when Victoria keeps touching her boob it’s probably accidental. Probably.

“Where’ss Nathan?” Victoria whines, head lolling onto Chloe’s shoulder and smearing a healthy quantity of expensive makeup into her favorite Firewalk shirt. Which is fine. Not like Chloe can’t just steal another one next time they have a 2010 tour. Time travel’s a thing, right?

“I have no idea where Prescock is. Surprised he’s not doing shots out of your cleavage.”

Victoria’s trying to text, but she keeps almost dropping her phone. “Where are theese bisches?” Victoria grumbles as her manicured fingers jab and swipe at the screen of her phone with the dexterity of a toddler with two handfuls of butter. “Sposdt to be my frens…”

Victoria’s entire focus is on her phone when it should really be on walking. Chloe tugs her upright and tries to steer her for the umpteenth time. “Can it wait til we’re in the truck at least?”

Victoria grinds to a halt and finally tears her eyes from her phone. “M’not gedding into that… that…” Victoria flails at Chloe’s truck and nearly falls over. “Deathtrap.”

“You had to get a tetanus shot to live in the dorms, right? You’ll be fine.” Chloe grips Victoria’s elbow with one hand to keep her upright and wrangles the passenger door open with the other. “Go on, get in.”

Victoria glares at Chloe foggily. “Are you khhidnappng me, Price?”

“...That’s a joke, right?”

Victoria whacks Chloe solidly in the sternum with her phone. “B’cause I’ll haf you know, my frens will put your assss in jail like that.” Victoria tries and fails to snap her fingers, then stares at them as if she cannot comprehend why they are not obeying her.

Chloe rubs at her sore sternum in annoyance. “Yeah, well, maybe your ‘frens’ should be the ones getting your drunk ass safely back to the dorms instead of abandoning you and letting random creepers paw at you. Then maybe I could get my drunk on in peace instead of wasting my weekend cleaning your puke out of my truck.”

Chloe’s expecting some pushback. Victoria hasn’t even touched her truck, much less puked in it. What she isn’t expecting is for Victoria to shove her phone in Chloe’s face. “You texx thm.” Victoria reaches for the door handle, yanks the door open, and unsteadily clambers into Chloe’s truck.

“Ow, what the fuck! You want me to text your friends?”

“Tell’m yer kidnappin me.”

“Uh, okay, no, I’m not doing that. But I can text your friends if there’s someone you’d rather get a ride with.”

Chloe carefully shuts Victoria’s door and walks around her truck to the driver’s side, thumbing through Victoria’s message history. She tries Nathan first, even though she can see that Victoria’s last ten messages to him have gone unanswered.

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Nathan: whothFUCKisthis

Victoria: a good samaritan. seriously tho your friend is halfway to passed out, can you help?

Nathan: fuckoffBITCH

Victoria: god why does victoria even like you?

She tries Courtney next.

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Courtney: I don’t know, can Victoria not call my boyfriend a MAN WHORE?

“We’re 0 for 2, Victoria. What’s the name of that blonde girl you’re always hanging around with?”

“Sweetie…”

“Um, what?”

“Goddddd you’re fuckn incomph-- incump-- incompetant. Sweet. T.”

“I have no idea what you’re-- Oh.” Jesus, the girl is literally in Victoria’s phone as Sweet-T. Gaaaaaaayyyy.

Victoria: hey victoria needs a safe ride back to the dorms. can you come get her?

Sweet-T: Victoria? Victoria Chase?

Sweet-T: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Sweet-T: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sweet-T: Tell that bitch good luck.

Sweet-T: Actually wait don’t.

Sweet-T: Tell her to choke.

Sweet-T: Btw Taylor lost her phone.

“Uhh, looks like ‘Sweet-T’ lost her phone. And it’s fallen into the hands of someone who completely hates your pretentious ass; no big surprise there.”

Chloe starts texting Victoria’s contacts at random as Victoria sulks. Most people don’t even respond. The responses she does get are… not encouraging.

Zach: sup biiiiiiiiiiitttcccccccchhhhhh yeah i’ll give vicky a ride ON MY DICK

Hayden: new fone who dis

Brooke: Who is this and how did you get my number? Don’t ever text me again.

Dana: I gott a ride w Jules srry

Juliet: Already back at the dorms. Good luck I guess.

Logan: fukk that bisch wut

“Well, Victoria, looks like none of your friends are coming to help. So you can either let me give you a ride back to campus, or you can pass out on a couch inside and hope for the best.”

“What th hell djou say to them??”

“Just that you needed a safe ride to the dorms. That’s all.”

“Bullsshhhitt. You pissed them off.”

Chloe laughs out loud at that. “I pissed them off?? You pissed them off by being a gigantic asshole!”

“M’ noddan asshole.”

“Oh, no? Well…” Chloe holds up Victoria’s phone and waves it in front of her face. “According to this survey, most people agree you are, in fact, a gigantic asshole.”

Which is how Chloe ends up comforting a sobbing Victoria Chase in a stranger’s driveway and wishing she’d never been born.

---

Chloe: dude. Srsly. Fuck u for abandoning me at that fucking vc party.

Rachel: chloe?

Rachel: wat timesit?

Rachel: w happnd?

Chloe: its 3am

Chloe: and victoria FUCKING chase is passed out on me

Rachel: ur joking

Rachel: omg

Rachel: pls take a pic

Chloe: this isnt funny rach

Rachel: it’s fucking hilarious!

Chloe: its SAD.

Rachel: Wait so

Rachel: did you fuck her?

Chloe: WHAT????

Chloe: NO!!!!!

Rachel: Oh good bc I don’t think there’s enough bleach in the world to clean your soul after fucking victoria chase

Chloe: she’s drunk AF

Chloe: her friends ditched her

Chloe: and i kinda called her an asshole

Chloe: so she cried on my shoulder until she passed out

Chloe: and now i’m trapped

Rachel: Poor baby.

Rachel: Chew your arm off?

Chloe: not funny.

Rachel: Again, totally funny.

Chloe: Srsly tho, what should i do???

Rachel: idk

Rachel: sneak out?

Chloe: we’re in my truck

Rachel: hahahahahahahaha

Rachel: of course you are

Rachel: so wake her bitch ass up!

---

Victoria Chase snores. Nothing in the world could have prepared Chloe for that knowledge. She also drools, which is unfortunate for the state of Chloe’s jacket. Not that it’s the cleanest thing in the world anyway, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.

Victoria’s normally immaculate hair is in a state of total chaotic disarray. At least half of her makeup is gone, and what remains is smeared artlessly all over her face. She smells like a brewery. Chloe’s arm has fallen asleep under the weight of her head. Chloe envies it. The sweet release of sleep would be infinitely preferable to the intense awkwardness of being conscious right now.

The moonlight paints Victoria’s face in delicate shades of pale, highlighting the refined angles of her cheekbone, her jawline, her nose. She’s snoring and drooling and messy and the most utterly awful person; it shouldn’t be possible for her to be beautiful in this moment.

And yet. And yet.

Chloe should shove her awake. She should push Victoria off her shoulder, buckle up both of their seatbelts, and deposit her safely back at the dorms (because even though Victoria’s an objectively horrible person, that doesn’t mean that Chloe is). Chloe should abandon ship, let Victoria sleep it off in the front of her truck while Chloe returns to the party and drinks until she can’t remember what Victoria looks like in the moonlight. Maybe if she drinks enough, by the time she’s sober enough to drive Victoria will have sobered up and found her own way home.

Victoria makes a sleepy sort of grumbling sound and shifts against Chloe’s shoulder, draping an arm over Chloe’s middle and snuggling close. Her hair tickles Chloe’s neck and jaw as it sticks out at peculiar angles, and Chloe wants to laugh or possibly die. There’s really nowhere else for Chloe’s arm to go, so it ends up wrapped around Victoria. Victoria lets out a sound that’s disturbingly close to a contented sigh.

“Hey... Vic?”

“Mphgmhm?”

“Um… Are you aware that you’re cuddling me like I’m your long-lost childhood teddy bear?”

“Grhmphgm.”

“Uh. ‘Kay. Long as you know.”

“Mphkm.” Victoria nuzzles into Chloe’s shoulder, squeezing her tighter. Chloe awkwardly pats her side and Victoria sighs again.

“Hey, uh… I’m sorry about what I said before. I mean, not about you being an asshole, ‘cause I’m not gonna lie. But about your friends. I’m… sure your friends do like you, really.”

Victoria shrugs a little, frowning delicately. “Dsnmttr. Sleeb.”

Sleep. Okay. That’s theoretically possible. Chloe’s slept in more uncomfortable positions in this very truck, after all. So she closes her eyes and rests her head against the back of her seat, and she listens to the steady rhythm of Victoria’s breathing until the world begins to fade into a comforting void.

Shit’s going to be awkward in the morning. But, well. That can wait until the morning.

#writing prompts #prompt fill #chaseprice #life is strange #LiS #background amberprice #chloe price #victoria chase #rachel amber #fanfic

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nico-drives-badly · 5 years

Text

V Goes to the DMV (A Dumb Skit I Randomly Came Up With)

[Scene begins in Devil May Cry office. V and Nero enter the office, V looking absolutely disgruntled while Nero is fighting back tears from laughing so hard.]

Dante: Hey, you’re back! Lady told me you were taking V to the DMV to get his learner’s permit. How did it go?

Nero: [snickering] Oh, it was wonderful. Tell him all about it, V.

V: [groans] I’d rather not.

Dante: Why? What happened?

Nero: Yeah, V! Go ahead and tell Dante what happened. [nudges V mockingly]

V: [glares at Nero] Fine. So I went inside the driver’s ed building with Nero, and I passed the written test and vision test just fine.

Nero: But then... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

V: [sighs] But then we went next door to the DMV to get the permit, and we talked to the lady at the front desk...

•••

[Scene changes to a flashback of Nero and V walking up to the front desk. A tired old lady is sitting in front of a large and clunky computer she barely knows how to use.]

V: Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m here to get my learner’s permit.

DMV Lady: First, I’ll need your personal information. [slowly pulls up the registration form on the computer] Name?

V: V Sparda.

DMV Lady: ...I meant your full name.

Nero: [bites back a chuckle]

V: Um...that is my full name. I’ve always been called V, and I’m technically a Sparda, so...

DMV Lady: It’s got to be short for something. Like Vincent, Victor, Vladimir...

Nero: [snorts] Vladimir Sparda...

V: [eye twitches slightly in annoyance] Uh, no. It’s just V. My full name is literally just V Sparda.

DMV Lady: Hmph, whatever. Kids these days...

[The lady types V’s name into the form in a comically slow fashion, driving V even more over the edge. Finally, after the longest 30 seconds ever, she turns back to face the pair.]

DMV Lady: I’m sorry, but our database requires the license holder’s name to be at least 2 characters long.

V: [tightens his grip on his cane to the point where Nero’s amazed it didn’t snap in two] But ma’am, this is my NAME. I can’t just change my name to fit your database. It’s a legal ID.

DMV Lady: [is seemingly unfazed] I’m sorry, sir. The only way I can override the character requirement is if I scan an alternate form of identification.

Nero: [whispers to V while biting back laughter] Alternate form of identification? What does she want us to do, hand over Vergil and rub his ass across the IR scanner?

V: [rolls eyes and returns to the lady] What alternate IDs do you accept?

DMV Lady: By Federal law, I can only accept either a passport or a birth certificate.

Nero: [cackling] Good luck explaining this one, V.

V: [laughs nervously] Hehe...yeah, funny story about that. You see, I was never technically born...? I sort of just spawned into existence when Vergil split himself in half to avoid his inner demons. And even though he’s back to normal now, I still show up every now and then through vicariously-written fandom content?

DMV Lady: [stares blankly in confusion]

V: [shakes head] Nevermind. The point is, I have no legal identification. But I’ve already explained the circumstances to the driver’s ed instructors next door, and they were perfectly fine with it. And I already passed the exam and everything! Now all I need is for you to give me my permit WITH MY ACTUAL FULL NAME ON IT.

DMV Lady: .....Okay. [slowly reboots the system and pulls up the form] Full name?

V: [anger intensifies]

•••

[Scene cuts back to Devil May Cry, where now Dante and Nero are both laughing, much to V’s annoyance.]

Dante: That’s seriously what happened?! [howls with laughter as he slaps his knee] I’ve heard some nightmare stories about the DMV before, but that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!

Nero: [gasping for breath from laughing so hard] Oh, but wait. It gets even better. V, tell him what you did next.

V: [groans] I gave up on trying to argue with that old woman, so I just told her to add a letter at the end of V and be done with it. I finally got the permit, but...

Nero: [laughing] But you didn’t tell her which letter to put at the end, did you? So when we got it back...oh god, it was fucking hilarious. Come on V, just tell him already!

V: [sighs and holds up the learner’s permit for Dante to see.] It says Vv Sparda.

Nero: [wheezes and nearly falls over] IT SAYS VV SPA—

[Scene ends with Dante and Nero laughing their asses off while V storms off broodingly.]

#devil may cry #nico writes #dmc v #dmc nero #stupid writing

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axiang-n-chengling-s-dads · 5 years

Text

Why is S4 Fucky

I know we've probably waxed poetic about this, but I needed to clear it all so that I can work in the theories.

Also @delorb thought that Johnlockers only disliked s4 because of no canon Johnlock, so to them and all the others who think so, here's why s4 was fucky.

TST

1. Sherlock says to John and Mary that he knows exactly what he's going to do, but says doesn't really know about it to the govt officials.

2. Sherlock's behaviour towards Mary is weird at best, showing WAY too much affection for someone who literally tried to kill him.

3. And he's suddenly trading John for Mary on a case? I mean the three eventually go together on it, but he says that she's better than him, when last episode he was literally praising John (pretty damn smart) in his MP.

4. John is writing his blog but it's actually a .jpg file??? Like did literally no one on the editiing team notice just HOW noticeable that was?

5. Sherlock forgets whether the victim was a girl or a boy (your daughter... Sorry- son.) Smartest guy around indeed.

6. Mary jumps in front of the bullet, so since SHE has he time to do so, Sherlock would have had the time to jump away, and yet the greatest consulting detective of all time couldn't figure that out? Also, Moftiss broke their OWN rules that they'd made, making Mary's death too dramatized ( a bit spurt of blood and you do flying backwards)?? Why?

7. John is somehow blaming Sherlock completely for it, and giving him a note via Molly that we don't ever get to read. Mary in his head and a goddamn angel all of a sudden?

8. Also, John Watson, literally known for his loyalty, apparently cheats on his wife? (Though we're still expected to root for their marriage and believe it was a happy one?)

TLD

8. Mary sends a 'Miss me?' Note (What IS that all about? Constantly comparing her to Moriarty if they don't want us to make that connection?)

9. Sherlock is high As a kite, about to OD, and John cant be FUCKING BOTHERED TO EVEN CHECK UP ON HIM? Ruining a character arc much?

10. Also, Eurus dressing up like John for Sherlock and Sherlock for John (all dark haired, mysterious, and doesn't do this with OTHER people but she'll make an exception for John?) To LURE them. Ok. Ok.

11. "Is cup of tea code?" Like why do they fuck us up like that?

12. Culverton Smith is literally dressed up like John?

13. John is beating the SHIT OUT OF SHERLOCK? John Watson who once punched an officer who called Sherlock a freak? Hitting Sherlock until he has to be admitted to the hospital?

14. John doesn't even THINK of saving Sherlock unless Mary tells him thorough a CD? HOW did the two survive before she told them how to breathe?

15. The whole the Hug™ scene just... God. And Irene still making John jealous? This isn't really a point but that scene made me teary...

16. Eurus shooting John with a gun that was definitely NOT a tranquilizer, and then we have NO EXPLANATION of what happened next? Are we supposed to forget it ever happened? Please tell me.

TFP

15. Please don't even get me started on this one. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?

16. Again we start with this weird horror house thing and we have no explanation to how things progressed till here?

17. Mycroft talking about the whole Secret Sibling Story™ like Henry Knight in THoB except Sherlock DELETED an entire person from their life who lived with him for years and not just one tiny scene of his life.

18. Eurus being able to get out of Sherrinford but still going back in????? WHAT? WHY?

19. There is a motion sensing bomb. Which grey escape alive. By jumping out of the fucking window. Ok. Fuck pHysics. I get it.

20. Sherrinford is shaped like a heart... Seriously look.

21. They write an entire message on the sand in big ass letters and the most secure place ever doesn't notice?

22. Sherlock not realizing there's NOT a glass in front of him when he's literally two cms away from it? The audience I understand, because of their cinematography (brilliantly done, btw, but lacking logic. Also if we've come to that point. EURUS' THREE DISGUISES WERE MIND BLOWING i didn't have a single fucking idea they were the same person)

23. Sherlock not listening to John when he says Vatican Cameos? Thank you Moftiss for properly destroying their friendship arc.

24. Also those torture rooms were more of a torture for John that Sherlock? Anyways.

25. Eurus connects them on the phone with a little girl, but the girl was actually in her head. So who were they talking to???? Can Eurus also change her voice to a tiny girls? Ok.

26. Apparently Eurus and Moriarty planned all of this in five minutes? In which they just basically creepily mirrored each other's actions and eye-fucked? And Moriarty made all these recordings before his death? Like he knew all of this was going to happen, and her Eurus only did all of this years after his death? Why the delay?

27. (Also NONE of the Johnlock fans wanted the ILY scene to have been with John instead of Molly, and here's why: )

28. The whole shoot either John or Mycroft was really painful, but anyways. Now they're apparently transported to Sherlock's Childhood home and Eurus is able to have people make fake walls all around? Wow that's pretty resourceful.

29. Also the place has a fake dog bowl labelled 'Redbeard' so either Victor Trevor ate out of a dog bowl or Eurus knew Sherlock hasn't figured it out. But that can't be possible, because when Sherlock entered she was amused that he still didn't know ('oh, you still don't know about Redbeard do you?.)

30. John is in a well, and is chained to the said well, though later in the episode he climbs out of it with a rope, because the chain fucking dissolved in the water?

31. Also, John in Sherlock's head could break every bone of a persons body while naming them, but this real John can't tell if he's looking at HUMAN OR ANIMAL bones? Did Moftiss have a personal vendetta against John to destroy him so completely?

32. Also when John is about to die in the well, Sherlock's only response is 'Try not to drown?' The same Sherlock, who,in TEH, stole an motorcycle, rode all the way to a bonfire, jumped into the fucking fire to save John, all bbecause of a text. Wow. Are the same people writing the show anymore?

33. Also a point worth noting. Mycroft sends Sherlock to Eurus, who knows the truth about redbeard, and who could catch him unaware by the fact that he's actually a HUMAN and not a dog, without telling him the truth. Or did Mycroft also repress his memory and turn him into a dog?

34. We save the little girl (with whom we'd been talking on the phone) in eurus head, and eurus too, who wanted to kill Sherlock, but that's cool, everyone near him is trying to do that these days.

35. Sherlock and Eurus are now best mates (and hopefully she wont try to kill him again, but that's okay) and her family visits her, baker street is okay really, like what bomb ever exploded? Just the mirrors broken a and the wallpaper needs replacing that's it.

36. Also, Mary the Dictator is back at it again, telling John and Sherlock how to live, along witH little messages like (I know what you two could be if I'm not there) and life at baker street is back to normal. (Also John never really apologised to Sherlock for beating him to death, but then again, everyone tries to do him in these days.)

37. Also no one talks about the trauma, or literally anything that happened?

38. Also everyone was wearing blue and EVERYTHING was blue until the last few scenes?

Of course this may be just bad writing, but I find it hard to believe that. Maybe there's another reason?

Please feel free to add, or discuss.

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hanalwayssolo · 5 years

Text

What We Owe To Each Other: Ch. 3 - Night

A/N: Here’s the angsty part of a fic literally no one asked for!!!

[Link on AO3]

Sam did not want to admit it out loud, but he was starting to believe that he was truly and utterly lost.

He pulled out his phone and checked his current location. He was sure about the direction he had taken; he had passed the right landmarks, made no unnecessary turns from the main road. His destination was off the beaten path but thankfully, it had stopped raining and the fog had partly cleared that he managed to easily spot his way. He had been certain that he was in the right address. This had to be the right place.

What was bothering him now was that the house that loomed behind the massive iron-wrought gates was the exact opposite of a fucking cottage.

Sam pulled over next to a silver Sedan (another rental, he could tell by that same tacky sticker plastered on its windshield) hooded over by the blood-red foliage of maple trees on what appeared to be the lot’s designated parking space. In the discomfort of the Chevy’s front seat, he began to assess all his available options. He could check out the house, ask its occupants for proper directions. Or he could turn his way back around. He could find a decent lodging to spend the night somewhere in Westmore, or any nearby town perhaps, and craft another excuse to tell his brother as to why he didn’t make it.

Or, well, he could disregard his pride and simply call Nathan for help.

This is stupid. I’m being stupid.

Sam sighed. He fished his phone out again, scrolled through his list of contacts, hovered over Nathan’s name for a little too long. He has not even called him yet, but he can already hear his brother’s clever and punk-ass reaction.

Fine. Fuck this.

He took another deep breath. Just as he was about to press that Call button, a knock on his window startled him out of his wits.

“Holy Mother of God!” Sam hissed, accidentally slamming a hand over the car horn that it shrieked like a shameless cry for help. He turned, and by the window was a familiar face curiously watching him with an almost amused expression.

It was Elena.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as soon as he got out of the car. She was in a cozy-looking parka, sweatpants and running shoes, her cheeks a shade rosier from the cold. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was freezing as fuck. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I was out for a walk. Then I saw that there’s another car parked next to ours. Figured it would be you.”

“Oh.”

“And you were in there for a really long time, so. Yeah.”

“Well, I thought I was…” Sam trailed off. He looked at the house behind Elena, then back at her. “I’m in the right place, am I?”

“Yup.” Elena was smiling. “Trust me, that was our reaction when we first got here, too. Seriously, Sullivan needs to work on his definition of a cottage.”

Sam stared at her. “Christ, Victor owns this place?”

Elena nodded in response. “C’mon,” she said cheerily, nodding her head towards the gate, “Let’s get inside. I’ll let Sullivan explain everything to you and maybe get him to take you on his personal tour.”

Sam grabbed his duffel from the trunk and let Elena lead the way.

The sun slowly plummeted over the horizon, simmering gold through the trees, scorching the sky like a third-degree burn. There was no noise except for the crunch of their shoes on the carpet of gravel and dried leaves, the whistle of the wind, the chorus of birdsong from somewhere up the canopies. The air was sharp and chilly. Not far away, the Mansard roof and the whitewashed façade of Sully’s estate began to reveal itself behind the veil of autumn foliage like an enigmatic bride.

“By the way,” Sam began as they climbed the front steps, “I heard from Nathan. Congratulations. Good job for making me an uncle.”

Elena laughed. “You’re welcome. Glad to be of service, I guess.”

“Now I hope you don’t mind if I teach your kid a thing or two about picking locks and—”

“Oh don’t even think about that.”

“Alright. I’ll simply bore them to death.”

“Now that’s impossible. Trouble makes you the least boring person I know.”

“Whoa, now I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment.”

“It is a compliment.” She turned to face him, smiled at him knowingly. “But y’know, I suppose I should thank you, too.”

“Really?” Sam quirked a curious brow. “For what?”

“Nate told me about your sage advice.”

“Oh. That.” Sam shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it sagely,” he said, “but more like a push in the right direction.”

“Of course. But I appreciate it, really. Anyway,” she said as she casually opened the mahogany doors before them, “After you.”

Elena ushered Sam inside the house. Walking into the foyer, he found himself taking a sharp inhale and stuttering to a halt: gilt mirrors and chandeliers, potted palms and porcelain vases, plaster-medallioned ceiling and ivory floors polished to saintly perfection. Down to the wide archway to his immediate right was a gallery exquisitely curated with the finest marble sculptures and Impressionist paintings (there were a couple from Monet and Cézanne and Renoir which he recognized almost immediately, like spotting a familiar face in a crowd of strangers, and he hated how he still knew this because this was Darcy’s thing and fuck he did not need to be reminded of her at this time of day), a couple of photographs and portraits lining the walls, and ancient pieces that would probably cost more than his life. Somewhere, the jazz music he had heard earlier from the phone echoed like a sickly sweet invitation. Even the room smelled nice and elegant: of roast beef, of roses, of cigars and big money. Also, it was comfortably warm.

Startled and half-dazed, not quite sure what he was seeing or where he was even, as if he had been suddenly jettisoned to outer space, Sam turned to Elena and said: “This is… are you positively sure this is Victor’s house?”

Elena huffed an amused laugh. “I know it’s a lot to take in but yeah.” She shouldered off her parka and hung it over a coat rack. She helped Sam out of his jacket, too. “Nate and Sully’s in the kitchen—”

“I’ll be goddamned—look who decided to show up.”

A rich and sonorous voice that Sam knew so well rang out and sauntered into the hall.

“Victor.” Sam offered a small nod as the one and only man of the house—nay, mansion—gave him a strong, parental hug which he returned rather sheepishly. Though he found it strange to be shown such an affectionate gesture, it was even stranger for him to see Victor outside his usual colourful Havana shirts; in his gray long-sleeved turtleneck and dark trousers, he almost seemed so foreign. Warm and snug, sure—but still painfully foreign. Despite that, he still carried that same slick and silvery charm as if he never aged a day.

“Well now.” Victor stepped back, clapping both hands on Sam’s broad shoulders. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“What can I say? I live to disappoint.” Sam shrugged. “But anyway,” he said, “be honest with me: who did you murder to afford this place, huh? We had all the time in Lisbon and you didn’t tell me about this!”

“I’m glad to let you know that I didn’t get my hands bloody to get this place. This belonged to my family for generations.” Victor extracted a pack from the back pocket of his jeans and lit a cigar. “This—“ he was gesturing a hand in the air, the curl of smoke rising between his fingers— “had been in tatters a couple of years back. Had to make sure this entire place was in its pristine condition before I had anyone come over and see it.”

“And that’s only half of the story,” Elena added. She crossed her arms and looked at Victor critically. “Wait until you hear about how he acquired a certain Rembrandt piece.”

Sam waved away Elena’s words with an incredulous hand. “Wait a fucking second.” He stared at Victor. “Did I hear that right? You have a goddamn Rembrandt? What the—”

“Elena? Sully? You guys left me in the kitchen and you all know how I’m accident-prone—oh, about time you got here!”

Sam turned and was welcomed by Nathan with a firm slap on his back as soon as he walked in. He was wearing a dark cashmere sweater, ripped jeans, and one of those aprons with an obscenely suggestive text that said May I suggest this sausage written in a terrible font face.

“Why hello there, little brother,” Sam said a shade too mockingly. “Don’t you look dashing.”

Nathan scowled. “Okay, before you even judge me,” he began to tell Sam defensively, “I have to say that this—” he gestured a hand over his apron— “belongs to Sully.”

“Not that I needed clarification, but okay,” Sam said smugly. They all laughed.

“Look, kid,” said Victor, turning to Nathan, “why don’t you take your brother to his room? Elena and I will take care of things down here.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Nathan peeled off the apron and handed it to Victor. “Can’t bear the thought of being the jackass to accidentally burn your mansion.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s why I’m effectively relieving you of kitchen duty. Now scoot.”

Sam followed Nathan down the hall, up a sweeping staircase, and then another hall with mahogany doors leading to more rooms. More photographs and more gilt-framed portraits hung on the walls. Everywhere smelled sweet and musty and oppressively opulent.

“Here we are,” said Nathan as he opened the last door at the end of the corridor.

Obviously, the room was nothing less lavish than what Sam had seen thus far from the entire house. Stepping inside, it was as if he had slipped into a different time period, some Gothic universe that distinctly reeked of that 19th-century grandeur: fancy carpets on hardwood floors, paneled walls of deep green, gray velvet curtains draped over large windows. A pair of armchairs and a lumpy sofa upholstered in rose-patterned fabric were primly arranged opposite a marble fireplace. Figurines and books occupied any available surface. In the middle of the room, an ornately carved four-poster bed covered in fluffy linens seduced Sam with the lure of much-needed sleep.

“Jesus,” he said, dropping his bag next to a rosewood desk. “This house is fucking nuts.”

Nathan laughed. “I know,” he said. “This is like one of those rooms in Hampton Court Palace. Remember—“

“Yeah, yeah—first heist with Cutter, I know.” And with Darcy, too. Sam winced an empty smile. “Don’t need to remind me,” he muttered almost to himself. “So—“ he paced across the room, looking around earnestly, decidedly eager to change the subject— “how did the talk go with the wife?”

“Oh.” Nathan sat at the edge of the bed. “It was okay. Got to sort things out. And…” He trailed off. “Well, you were right,” he said quietly.

Sam stopped and narrowed his eyes at Nathan, a snarky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Come again? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Nathan snorted a derisive laugh. “You just want me to say it again, don’t you?”

“I really need you to say it again ‘cause I didn’t hear it the first time.”

“Well, I won’t.”

“Really? So that’s how it is?”

“Fine, fine. I said you were right.”

Sam beamed a triumphant smiled. “Why, thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

They did not say anything for a while. Then, Nathan got up and walked to the door. “Anyway,” he said, awkwardly clearing his throat, “I know you’re tired, so I’ll leave and give you time for a decent shut-eye. Dinner’s at eight, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure. Got it.”

Left to his own devices, Sam began to look around the room with a studied carefulness, examining every trinket and decor he could find like a detective dusting for fingerprints. He soon lost interest. He rarely got bored with things like these, but perhaps it was the exhaustion. Perhaps it was an exhaustion of an alien stranded in a different time, trying to phone home.

But there was no home. He never had one. And somehow, as he laid down on the bed in resignation, staring at the ceiling, he felt like he was not supposed to be here at all.

___

Sam is back in his prison cell in Panama.

He is supposed to be used to this by now—as one does, he guessed, if one had spent more than a decade incarcerated for a crime he did not commit—except the rush of terror that cuts him is a freshly sharpened blade. The trauma resurrects itself anew. It does not settle to be a memory so it replays itself like this:

Two men seize him by the arms, dragging him out and throwing him into the darkness. He is welcomed by a sharp embrace of a metal pipe, of many pairs of fists, and his knees, oh his knees are traitorous allies that buckles and trembles onto the cold, shit-stained floor. His bullet wounds have not fully recovered yet but the guards are his doctors believing that he will find his healing in the violence. This is his medicine. They watch him swallow and gag and retch. Get used to it, they say. This will make a better man out of you, says another. This is what your freedom looks like now, someone else spits out. The men restore his body with bruises. Paints him purple and pink and bloody. Split lip and swollen eyes. What is his body but a dishrag pulp of flesh? Pain is as sweet as morphine, a name that his body has memorized like an old lover’s kiss. So he takes and takes and takes. He does not scream. He does not beg them to stop. But he cries. His sobs echo without a sound. He lets his own voice choke him until they kill him for good.

___

Sam had meant to only sleep for a few hours, but he woke up sweating and with a heaving start to find the room bathed in silvery moonlight that made everything seem so startling and disarmingly unreal. Groggily, he looked around and the first one he saw was a woman sitting by the side of his bed.

And he was gripping her wrist like he was squeezing the life out of her.

It took him seconds to realize that it was Elena.

He let go of her, suddenly aflame with embarrassment.

“Shit, I—“ he stammered, running a hand over his hair, fumbling to turn on the bedside lamp— “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t—“

“Hey, it’s alright,” Elena said. She was looking at him with a pained and worried expression on her face that made his embarrassment even worse. “Bad dream?” she asked.

“Sort of.”

“For how long have you been going through this?”

Sam did not answer. He did not know what he should tell her. He could only avoid her gaze like a fretful child, and a part of him hated it.

Before the silence could stretch on for more uncomfortable minutes, Elena got up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she said regretfully. “Anyway, Nate was supposed to be the one to wake you up, but Sully sent him for a quick errand but um, I’m here to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

Sam nodded weakly. “Right. Uh, Elena?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell Nathan about this.”

Elena stared at him with obvious admonishment, as if she was she was holding back the judgment she was trying to pass. “Okay, I won’t,” she said finally. “Because I trust that you’ll be the one to tell him about it.”

Sam said nothing. He watched Elena close the door behind her.

#uncharted #uncharted fanfiction #samuel drake #sam drake #elena fisher #nathan drake #victor sullivan #my writing #if you can't tell already i kind of like to suffer i guess??????????

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millieswickedbooks · 5 years

Text

chapter two: the reaping

Girl on Fire (Teen Wolf x Hunger Games) [Stilinski]

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter >>

pairing: Stiles Stilinski Black!OC

word count: 5,622

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of pet death, mentions of death, brief mention of pregnancy and brief mention of war

➳

"Aurora?"

"Yes, Alise?"

"Are you afraid?"

I sighed, Alise would ask something like this. I looked at her from the reflection in the mirror. She was standing in front of me, as I was finishing up doing her hair for the Reaping. She was wearing a light blue denim skirt overall and a beige colored short-sleeve shirt underneath. Her dark skin was complemented by the pastels of her outfit and her dark brown, basically, black hair was up in a neat, high bun—courtesy of yours truly.

I turned to the side and looked at Stiles and Scott, both of which were sitting at the dining table, across from each other. They looked at each other and turned, giving me helpless looks. I internally rolled my eyes at the idiots and turned to look at the girls; Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Kira Yukimura, and Malia Tate. They were spread out in my kitchen, Lydia was leaning up against the counter, Allison was sitting in front of her on the kitchen table, Malia sitting on the counter and Kira was to her left, leaning on the counter too, petting Beau. They all gave me apologetic looks and I internally groaned, damning them all.

After we—Stiles, Scott and I—left the forest, we had met up with the girls, all of which were at the Argent household and we walked to my house, because I always get Alise ready for the Reaping. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were most likely at the Hale Household. Sometime around the beginning of the year, Derek had taken those three under his wing. I literally had no idea why by they all just bonded, it was adorable if I'm being completely honest.

Danny and the Twins, Ethan and Aiden, were probably at Danny's, we'd meet up with them afterward.

From here we will go down to the Seam for the public not-execution-but-basically-an-execution.

I took a deep breath and after pondering what I should say to her, I respond with, "just a little bit, babe. But that's what everyone feels on this day so it's no big deal."

"Yeah, don't stress. We'll be fine," Lydia reassured, suddenly appearing beside us, "we always are."

Lydia had reminded of Scott in the forest because that's literally exactly what he had said to me, and she put a comforting hand on Alise's shoulder and Alise looked like she had more to say but I really wasn't in the mood for this conversation. I didn't know what to tell her, it was breaking my heart, she looked so scared and I was so helpless in this situation. I can't do anything to protect her from the truth that is our horrible reality.

"Okay, you're all set, Alise, let's go," I asserted, preventing this conversation from going on any longer by interrupting it. I looked at Lydia and smiled at her, silently thanking her for trying to help me out in this situation. Lydia winked at me and God, I love her so much, she's the freaking best.

"But-"

"Alise, we gotta go, or we're gonna be late. And I really don't wanna find out what happens if we are. I'm not trying to get arrested or something worse. Come on," I explained to Alise, looking at her expectantly. She huffed but nodded and I sighed, turning around, facing the group who was already up. We all gave each other knowing looks and we began to make our way out of the door, Alise and I were last. And as soon as Stiles stepped out of the house, me following, thinking that Alise was right behind me, I heard her call out.

"Aurora, I'm scared."

And that sentence alone brought down my walls entirely. I turned to her and saw her standing in the middle of the room, with Beau at her feet, her long, fluffy tail wrapping around Alise's ankle. Her big brown eyes were sad and her eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, a worried look adorning her face. She reminds me so much of Bubba.

"Oh, Alise," I cooed, running back towards her, crouching down and hugging her. For a fourteen-year-old girl, she really was tiny.

"What if I get picked, Aurora? What if you get picked? I don't want you to die!" Alise rambled, sounding exactly like me when I ramble.

"Dang, babe, have some more faith in me," I joked, hoping to help lighten the mood.

"Aurora, you know what I mean," she said seriously. I sighed and looked at her, remembering my terrible dream and how real it felt.

"Alise, listen to me, okay?" I started, looking her right in her big doe eyes and she stared right back, waiting for me to continue. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me? Nothing."

"You promise?" Alise asked in a quiet voice.

"Cross my entire heart," I reassured her, smiling up at her. She quickly wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. I was kind of taken back by the all-of-a-sudden hug and I nearly fell over on my ass but I quickly balanced myself out and hugged Alise back just as tight. I kissed her right temple and we pulled away.

"You ready?" I asked her and she nodded, grabbed my hand and we walked out of the house, seeing the group there, waiting.

I scanned the group and soon enough my eyes landed on Stiles and once again I was reminded why I had such a big crush on that boy. His beautiful amber eyes were looking right at me and he had this look, one I couldn't place. It made my heart swell though. He had this little smile on his face and I just wanted to kiss him right then and there. I, begrudgingly, looked away, I didn't want him or anyone else for that matter seeing me basically checking him out and my eyes landed on Malia and she was smirking at me. I cursed myself as I quickly remembered Malia is incredibly observant and nothing really gets past her. Malia knew I had on crush on Stiles and that was one of the main reasons why she didn't date him when he asked her out a while back. She has been wanted us to get together for the longest time and no matter how many times I told her and the other girls that it just wasn't going to happen, they refused to listen. I blushed as she winked at me and I looked back at Stiles and I saw him still staring at me. I blushed harder and proceeded to walk down my porch steps and towards the group, Alise in tow, and as I did that I saw Stiles wink at me. I nearly choked on my spit at the sight. Why the fuck does he have to be so fucking attractive, what the actual fuck?

'Lord, don't do this to me, you know just how hot he is,' I thought to myself. Once I reached the group Stiles draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close to him.

We then began to walk to the Square, not knowing that that day, in just a few moments, our lives would change for good.

➳

Once we got to the Square, we almost immediately got separated. Boys one side and girls the other. Alison, Malia, Lydia, Kira, Alise and I went to our rows; we were separated by age. Alise went with all the fourteen-year-old girls, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Erica and I went in the row with the sixteen-year-olds and Allison and Cora, Derek's little sister, went with the seventeen-year-olds. I stood next to Malia at the end of our lil' clique's row.

After every child was grouped together, we waited for the Mayor to do his usual speech. I look around and behind the boy's group, off to the left, I see Mr. Stilinski and Ms. McCall. The sight would've made me smile. If I wasn't in this place I definitely would've too. They were standing next to each other and—they were holding hands! Yes! Scott, Stiles, and I have made it one of our number one goals to get those two together. I kind of wanted Lydia's mom to get with my Bubba but I knew it was still just a little bit too soon for him, so I knew I had to be patient.

And that reminds me, where's Bubba? I turn and quickly spot Bubba. He kind of easy to find, he's six-foot-four-inches and his dark skin made it even easier to find him. He was wearing a gray shirt with a brown vest, standing off to the side, next to Amara and Derek. And I saw that Laura Hale, Talia Hale, and William Hale, Derek's older sister, mother, and father, were there, too—which was shocking. They usually don't come to these.

'It honestly breaks my heart to watch these,' I remember Talia told me. I can't blame her. If I could, I would run away and never come ever again.

I saw that Bubba was staring right at me, his sad eyes boring into mine. I looked at him and threw him a small smile. I could just barely make it out but I know he signed, 'to the moon?' to me. He does it every time. And just as I signed, 'and back' the Mayor began to speak.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem," he began, his voice nearly thunderous in the Square as the crowd and its unnecessarily substantial amount of Peacekeepers was silent, now more than before. He continued, "welcome to District Twelve's reaping of the seventy-third annual Hunger Games. As many of you know, disaster struck what used to be North America..." and it was around here when I would zoom out because I seriously don't give a fuck. A civil war from years ago resulted in us sending our children to die every year, still to this day? For control? I'm not paying attention to this, it's straight bullshit.

I tune back in when I can tell he's about to introduce the Capitol's representative.

"In the past seventy-three Hunger Games, we have had only a few victors representing District Twelve. A living victor representing District Twelve is here today. His name, as many as you know, is Haymitch Abernathy and the tributes will meet him shortly after being Reaped, as he will be their mentor. So let's get this started, shall we? I know you all are dying to know," he announced, chuckling as if this was a joke. "Please welcome Effie Trinket of the Capitol!"

And with that a lady, Effie Trinket I guess, strutted up to the front of the stage after her introduction. And she looked pretty ridiculous but that's the Capitol for you. She had a huge smile on her face and was tall, with perfect posture and very pale. Like 'this-is-my-first-time-stepping-outside-in-fifty-eight-thousand-years' type of pale. And she had some weird makeup on too but that's whatever. What she was wearing though, was another story. She has a full plum-colored suit on. A plum-colored skirt that went down, just barely reaching her knees. It was weird, it was ruffled but not at the same time. And she had a plum-colored, long-sleeve, peplum button-up blazer with exaggeratedly huge shoulder pads that oddly reminded me of a really big mushroom. And to top it off, she had a rather uncomfortably large flower choker and a fucking massive plum-colored flower on her big, white hair and some black heels.

"Happy Hunger Games, District Twelve, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Ms. Trinket proclaimed with her typical Capitol accent. That line sent a shiver down my spine as it reminded of the demonic Peacekeeper from my dream. Effie continued, "As you all already know, the time has come. I have the absolute honor of choosing one courageous, young man and woman to participate in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. As the Mayor mentioned before, you all must be waiting so let's get right to it, huh? Ladies first." She finished with the same large smile on her face. I rolled my eyes and felt my heart pounding in my chest, feeling on the brink of a panic attack. As she reached a manicured hand into the giant ballot that was filled halfway with slips of paper, closed with usual black tape, I looked down, not wanting to hear someone being sent to their death—and also hoping it would calm my heart down.

And then, I heard it. The reason why my heart was pounding, the reason why I freaked out earlier today, the reason why I woke up with the heavy feeling in my chest. The reason why I had a nightmare last night.

"Alise Galloway," Ms. Trinket calls out.

And at that moment I felt my heart stop. Like actually. I looked up, at the back of Alise's head and I couldn't see her face but I knew what look she had on her face. One of terror and shock. I look around and I saw my Bubba's face; he was still processing what was just said, just like me. Amara wasn't any better, already beginning to cry. Talia, Derek, Laura, and William looked surprised as well.

I turned and saw the boys staring at me; Stiles' eyes were wide open, Scott looked near to tears and Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Danny Mahealani, Ethan and Aiden were all standing in the same row as them and all had varying looks of shocked, upset and confused faces as they turned to look at me as well. I turned to my right and look at the girls and they are harboring the same looks like the rest of my family and friends are.

I hear Ms. Trinket begin to speak into the microphone again.

"Alise? Where are you? Oh! There you are. Come on, don't be shy. Come on stage," Ms. Trinket cooed at Alise and at that moment everything slowed down, even time.

I remembered playing with little five-year-old Alise out in the rain, us splashing through the mud as our dog, Spark, chased us. I remembered playing with little six-month-old Alise around the house. I remembered bathing little ten-year-old Alise, her splashing me with water, resulting in a water-fight that got us in trouble with Bubba and he gave us a stern talking. I remembered burying our dog, holding Alise as she sobbed, kissing her forehead. I remembered getting her ready for school every morning. I remembered Amara surprising eight-year-old Alise with a little kitten, a couple of months after Spark died, which she named Beau, despite everyone in town telling her it was a 'boy's name'. I remembered me being completely and utterly obsessed with one-year-old Alise, even at a young age. I remembered Bubba and Mama telling Amara and I that Mama was pregnant. I remembered Amara and I going trading at the Seam, me holding little three-year-old Alise. I remembered Bubba, Amara, Alise and I holding each other after Mama's funeral. I remembered Bubba wrapping my broken arm in a splint after Erica had broken it falling off a tree and I tried to catch her, Alise holding my hand the entire time. I remembered all the times I would put my tiny hand on Mama's tummy, feeling her kick at the spot where my hand would lay. I remembered all the nights I stayed up late with Alise, talking about school and boys and whatever our minds would think of. I remembered calming twelve-year-old Alise down for her first Reaping. I remembered her and Amara holding me after every single nightmare I had had about Nino or Mama. I remembered Bubba showing me little one-day-old Alise into my arms, I looked down at her tiny face, her eyes closed and I whispered a tiny 'hi', and a small smile appeared on her lil' baby face as she heard the words, as she heard my voice. I remembered that as I grew I silently swore to myself that I would protect her from all harm. And this was what all those years prepared me for. To face my biggest fear; having Alise be reaped.

'Why didn't you save me, Aurora? Why didn't you do something, Aurora?' Alise had said in my nightmare. I tried to do something but I failed. Now, I can't afford to fail. If I do, then I'm losing Alise and I'm going to be letting her down as a big sister. I'm going to be letting my whole family down as a big sister. And I'm not letting Alise down. Or Amara. Or Bubba.

Or Mama.

I made up my mind. I wasn't letting this happen. Absolutely not.

"No. No. NO!" I began chanting as I ran out of my row and ran towards Alise but four Peacekeepers stopped me, gathering around me, preventing me from getting to Alise. "No! NO! ALISE!" Alise had already moved from her spot in the crowd and was standing at the center, in the aisle between the boys and the girls. She was in the process of being led on stage by four other Peacekeepers when I called out to her. She turned around at the sound of my voice and at that moment I got a good look at her face. Her big doe eyes were scared and red due to the fact that she was crying, big, fat tears rolling down her dark brown cheeks.

"Aurora?" She asked, her voice so tiny I just barely heard it over my struggles against these damn Peacekeepers.

"Alise, no! Let me go, let me go! I-I," I screamed, not knowing what the next words I was going to say were going to be but at the same time knowing exactly what I was doing. I cried out as loud as I possibly could, "I volunteer!"

After hearing what I just said, the peacekeepers let go of me, instantly backing away from me, as if I had burned them.

"What?" Ms. Trinket's voice asked, her voice echoing through the silent town.

"I volunteer as tribute," I yelled, loud and clear, making sure everyone and their mother heard me.

"Oh? A volunteer? Well, it looks like we have a volunteer, everyone! That's just great!" Ms. Trinket announced, looking right at me. "Come on up!"

I pushed past the Peacekeepers and ran to Alise, instantly wrapping my arms around my little sister. I then bent down in front of her, keeping eye contact with her.

"Aurora, what are you doing?!" Alise screamed at me, not caring that every eye is currently on us.

"Keeping my promise, babe. Now go, Alise. Go to Bubba and Amara-" Alise cut me off.

"No!" She cried out, feeling her cries stab through my heart. I hated it when she cried.

"Alise, go find-" I tried again but she wasn't having it.

"No! No!" She screamed, grabbing onto my arms with the intent of never letting go.

"I'm so sorry-" I said but then the Peacekeepers decided that was enough, pulling us apart. Seconds later, I saw Stiles, appearing out of nowhere, grab Alise. She was refusing to move so he had to lift her up completely off the ground, putting her on his shoulder. While he did that, I saw he had tears in his eyes as he stared at me. Our eyes locked for a second and then suddenly he was off.

"No! NO! AURORA! NO!" Alise screamed as she was carried away, continuing to scream as Scott quickly followed them, not before casting me a look that broke my heart.

I was then led to the stairs of the stage by four Peacekeepers. I slowly made my way up as I digested what just happened in these last few minutes. I'm a tribute now. I'm going into the Hunger Games. I'm possibly going to die.

"District Twelve's very first volunteer, ever. Come on, dear, come on up," Ms. Trinket acknowledged me and as I reached the last step, she gently but firmly grasped my hand, pulling me fully on stage and guiding me towards the microphone at center stage.

"Hello, hello! And what is your name?" Ms. Trinket asked her colored lips in an even bigger smile than before.

"My... uh, my name is Aurora Galloway," I answered, still not knowing whether I should feel happy that I saved Alise or sad because I might definitely never see my family or friends ever again. No more Lydia, no more Allison, or Erica, or Amara, or Issac. No more Scott, or Malia, or Kira. No more Stiles. No more Bubba, or Alise. That's it, it's over for me.

"I suppose that that beautiful little girl I called was your sister, huh?" I numbly nodded, glancing at Ms. Trinket and then looking around. I saw Lydia, Allison, Kira, and Malia holding each other as Lydia sobbed loudly. I turned and saw Derek holding Amara and Bubba holding Alise, who was sobbing on his chest, I could tell by the fact that her shoulders were shaking up and down.

Bubba was also crying, which tore at my heartstrings even more. The sight of my Daddy crying will always hurt. He deserves more than what this life offered him. I'd bring him the moon if he asked me to.

"Yes, that was," I answered as I guess my nod wasn't enough of an answer for Ms. Trinket as she leaned the microphone towards my mouth.

"Well, let's give a hand to our volunteer, Ms. Aurora Galloway!" Ms. Trinket told the crowd, as she began to clap lightly herself.

Not a single person besides her clapped. All I could hear was sniffs and sobs coming from multiple people. My eyes scanned the crowd once again and, at first, I didn't know what I was searching for until I found it. I was subconsciously searching for Scott and Stiles. Scott was crying, his brown puppy-dog eyes red and he had tears running down his face. Stiles was crying too, but he looked different, he looked more in pain. He wouldn't take his whiskey-colored eyes off me and in any other circumstances, I would have been blushing like a little school girl like I was earlier. But right now, it felt like my heart couldn't take any more of this. More of looking at my friends crying for me. More of my family looking like... like they were already mourning me.

And suddenly something happened. As if it was planned I saw all the townspeople, instead of clapping as Ms. Trinket told them to, they all, one after the other, put up their three straight middle fingers, kissing the fingers and raising it up high above their heads. I was shocked at the use of this old gesture. I never knew this district knew me like that, knew me enough to say they love me. I was reminded of a conversation I had with Ms. McCall; she had told me that everyone knew about The Galloways.

'Everyone loved your mother,' she told me once. 'She was a great healer, a good conversationalist too. She was just a great... friend, not just to me and... Claudia, but to everyone. Everyone was dying to see her be with your father too. He is, was, and always will be a good man. When they got married, nearly everyone came down to the wedding. Everyone loved you, Amara, and Alise too, since you girls act so much like her. After her death, it was like a disconnect. Everyone mourns in a different way. Maybe that's why the townspeople don't really talk to you all as much as they did before. Must see too much of her in you.'

'Do you really think I act just like Mama did?' I asked her. My father told me that I reminded him so much of her but I honestly don't see it. Mama was such a kind person, I felt like I wasn't as good as her, or that I'll ever be.

'Yes. You all do.' Ms. McCall began, looking off into the distance as she spoke to me and at that moment, I felt my heart break for Ms. Melissa McCall. She had gone through so much I just wanted to give her a big hug. She lost both of her best friends and her husband. It made me hate Death for stalking her so much in her life. She deserves so much more. 'Amara took your mother's maturity and her sympathetic side and is understanding just like her. Alise is thoughtful and bold, always saying what she felt was needed, not caring who heard, just like Rose. And you, Aurora, you got a little bit of everything from your mother. You might not see it but you are selfless, charming, cunning, witty, and smart. You are a beautiful young girl, Aurora, and you'll grow up to be a wonderful woman. Just like Amara is becoming, and just like your mother.'

So that's why we always got good deals while trading. And that's why the townspeople are saluting me now. It makes sense now. The townspeople were thanking me. The townspeople admired me.

The townspeople were saying goodbye to someone they love.

"And now, for the boys," Ms. Trinket continued and just like that, I was brought back down to reality. Ms. Trinket walked over to the other massive ballot that was meant for the boys and she reached in, pulling out another slip of paper. As she did that I wondered, 'Who's the poor soul who I might kill or might kill me?' And then it really hit me. I'm going to have to kill people. Children. I'm going to have to kill children. I'm going to have to take the life of someone's child. I just turned sixteen and in just a couple weeks, I'm going to become a killer. I can't kill, how will live my life, if I even survive this shit, with blood on my hands? How will I be able to do this without killing someone?

Ms. Trinket tore open the slip and read the name, leaning towards the microphone.

"Liam Dunbar," Ms. Trinket called out and I couldn't help it but I look for the boy. I quickly spotted the poor boy as the boys surrounding him moved away from him, keeping their distance from the boy as if he had the plague or something. Probably hoping the Peacekeepers wouldn't make a mistake and grab the wrong kid. The kid, Liam, looked around, shocked at his name being called but he reluctantly went with the Peacekeepers. And Lord was it heartbreaking to see him come up. He looked so scared. And as I watched him come up the stairs I'd realized seen him before. His family owns a bakery in town and he is also in Alise's grade, I've seen him going into some of her classes. The boy must be fourteen too. And for some reason, I felt the need to hug and comfort him, tell him everything would be alright.

I shook the weird feeling off and realized he was staring right back at me. I looked down, not wanting to see him staring at me any longer. I felt Ms. Trinket walked away from me so I guess she was guiding him towards center stage, where I was like she did to me. I glanced up when I saw Mr. Trinket's bold colorful outfit in the corner of my eye and saw they were standing right next to me, her hand on Liam's shoulder.

"Here we are, our tributes from District Twelve," Ms. Trinket rehashed and looked at the crowd again. My eyes found my father once again and I saw that this time, Mr. Stilinski and Ms. McCall were at his side, Mr. Stilinski had his hand on Bubba's shoulder and Ms. McCall was holding his hand. They both looked like they were crying too. And chastised myself for looking at them again, I have to stop looking, I'm on the brink of having a breakdown right in front of the whole District and that'll make me seem weak. And I definitely can't go into these games looking weak.

Ms. Trinket continued, "Now, come on you two, shake hands."

I turned to Liam and really looked at him, like really looked at him. And I felt this feeling of familiarity, it was weird. I felt like... I knew him from somewhere else, not just from the bakery or from Alise's classes, it was on the tip of my tongue and nearly driving me nuts because why the hell can't I remember this boy? But I scrapped the thought for now and reached my hand out, at the same time he did. We shook hands awkwardly but at the same time firmly. Ms. Trinket practically beamed at the sight.

"Once again, happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor..." Ms. Trinket finished and turned around to us, gently grabbing both Liam and me by our shoulders and leading us towards the large dark door. I've seen this door so many times before, from past Reapings obviously, but I never really thought I'd ever see myself going through it. The door was guarded by two Peacekeepers and once we walked through the doors, the doors were promptly shut behind us.

"Come along now, quickly. You have a limited amount of time," Ms. Trinket rushed, her heels clicking on the empty hallway she led us down. I didn't even bother to ask what she meant by that and just quietly followed her. We were led into a room and the Peacekeeper opened the door.

"Aurora, this is your stop," Ms. Trinket informed me and I glanced at her and Liam and walked in the small room. I turned to look and they had already been closing the door behind me.

And like that, I was left to my own devices. There was a chair in this room and I knew better than to just sit in it but it's all kind of just hitting me and my legs felt like jelly and god ohmygod I'm going to die. I shook my head, chastising myself again for thinking like that.

'No, Aurora, stop thinking like that! Do you want to see your family again? You want to live! You must win!' I thought to myself as I took a seat.

'But I can't kill people, I can't have blood on my hands,' I pondered, wondering how in the fuck I would survive these games, how would I go about this all while avoiding murdering someone. I struggle enough just by hunting birds and squirrels, and I know that's for survival, but in the end, it's still a life and I still feel bad. Maybe it'll help if I view it as hunting? This is basically the same thing as hunting. I have to survive. It's necessary death. But... I can't; that's someone's child right there. But at the same time, I'm someone's child too.

'Ugh, this is so fucking terrible,' I thought to myself as I racked my brain for a way out and every solution I came up with just came with another flaw or a problem and I felt my blood boil with anger. I hate these fucking Games. But I have to survive, I have to come back, to Scott, Isaac and Ms. McCall, to Lydia and her mom and the Tates. I have to come back and see Kira. I have to come back to Allison and the Argents; I'll miss her like crazy. I have to come back to Boyd and Erica and the twins. And I have to come back to Danny. I have to come back to the Hales and I have to come back to Mr. Stilinski and... Stiles. Stiles. I have to come back for him, to him. I'll miss him and Scott so much. And when I do, hopefully, I will tell him how I feel. No more waiting around. No more secrets.

And most importantly, I have to come back for Bubba and Alise. And Amara. We are all we have. I can't leave them, I can't let myself get taken away as that Peacekeeper did to us with Mama. I have to come back to them.

And in that room, I promised myself that I would kill only if I absolutely had to. Because I might think about others and their well-being and why I shouldn't kill them but that doesn't mean they're doing that to me.

And as I stared off into space, looking at the wall in front of me in the small, quiet room, I realized something. I realized that I wasn't really freaking out as much as I felt like I should anymore. And I wondered why am I not shaking at the fact that I might die in a few weeks? And it hit me. I have a shot at this, it's slim but a shot's a shot. And I remembered why.

'Thank God Mama taught me archery and Bubba taught me knife-throwing. Without those, I would be a lost cause in these Games,' I thought, slightly chucking because I used to complain about why I should learn to them constantly when I was younger and when I was around thirteen I realized I could use my skills to hunt and now, look at how handy they'll come in for these stupid Games.

And in that very moment the door opened, the loud noise startles me and I looked up, seeing Alise, Amara, Bubba, and the Hales. And that was what officially caused me to break down.

➳

and there’s chapter two !!! as always, feedback is always appreciated !! ♡

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf crossover #teen wolf fic #teen wolf rewrite #stiles fic #hunger games #hunger games fic #teen wolf #black women #woc #stiles #girl on fire #black original character #stiles stilinski x black!oc #oc: aurora galloway

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 6 years

Text

In and out (Part 6) (Nathan Drake X Male reader)

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don’t go so easily as they should. Well, isn’t that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I am just sooo busy rn.

Tagging: @march-moon

Mood for this chapter: Come with me now by the one and only Kongos.

Florence wasn't exactly fond of that Y/N actually had some valid reason to keep up with them. Not that she exactly didn't like that new guy, but in her opinion, it was too hard to keep up with them, it was too dangerous and he would be risking his life for some piece of treasure. She just felt like he's wasting their and his time with them.

But Nathan nor Sully didn't seem to mind it that much, they were pretty welcoming of his presence. He was actually a pretty good source of information. Y/N knew a lot of things about the city and lead them directly to the "downtown".

"Okay. What's the deal? Because you're looking like some mummy here and I don't like it." Nathan joined Florence all of a sudden and asked her because she looked seriously frowned and pissed.

"Oh don't worry. I'll manage my situation." She told him in a pretty cold voice. "Worrying about me is your new hobby? Because you're asking me questions like is anything wrong a lot since we got here."

"Don't flatter yourself that much, mum. I'm just afraid that something will go over your mind and you will just blow, maybe stabbing someone to death." Nathan stated in an unsure voice. Florence had to laugh at that because she saw the joke said between the words.

"I just don't like that," she nodded her head in Sully's direction, frowning a bit. "I think it's..."

"He looks like he can look out for his ass."

"You're telling me that because you two had a moment in that hotel room." Florence shut his mouth off and Nathan was surprised about everything she said. A moment they had? Nathan and Y/N had a moment? And what kind of moment?

"You don't know what you're talking about, Florence." Nathan shrugged to answer her as her lips curled into a confident smile.

"Oh, I have a boyfriend for more than ten years and I don't know what having a moment means," Florence stated ironically and sniffed out. "I'm sincerely sorry, Drake. Don't make a saint out of yourself." She said in a low voice and looked at Y/N's little and cute bum.

"I don't blame you. Look at that man's ass." Florence walked down the stairs beside Nate, just a few inches away from Nate. "That precious ass is a true royal jewel."

"If Sully heard you right now," "He would say that I'm right." She laughed as Nathan bumped her arm with his hand with rosy cheeks. Were they seriously talking about some man's ass? And was Nathan seriously enjoying the topic? Yes, he was.

They walked to a first street that was supposed to take them deeper to the city. But there was a barrier with two soldiers next to it, looking like the street is out of order for now.

"Looks like we have complications." Y/N said slowly, thinking about what happened. Why would the streets were closed? He rode here like three hours ago when he was on his way to pick them up.

"We don't like complications," Sullivan said and his face looked seriously dark.

"I'll try to talk to the gentlemen, ok?" Y/N smiled and walked to them in his own, slowly fast pace.

"Now we have the chance to leave him here and just disappear, let's go, guys!" Florence whispered to her partners, trying to make them go away by a nearby alley. She thought that they will be able to walk through the city on their own. They were a bunch of adult people who should be capable to look after themselves.

"Why?" Nathan asked with a frown.

"He's one of us, floweret," Sully stated and looked at his fiancée, still trying to make them vanish into the thin air.

"Don't you dare to speak back to me, you traitor. He doesn't look like a type to handle this sort of life even though you seem to like him!" She whisper-shouted at Sully with an unbelieving face.

"You didn't particularly choose it too and look at how it suits you," Sully stated with a smile directing to that man's back.

"He had that look," Nathan took the ring from under his shirt and showed it to her. "That look of a person who finds themselves in this kind of life. He has chosen this life in that hotel room."

"But I'm worried that he'll not be able to do all of... This." She fenced with her hands pointing at them, at her, at the city, at Yemen, at everything.

"You didn't even give him a chance. What if he surprises us... And there is our favorite guide!" Sully exclaimed in a laughing voice and pointed out that Y/N is coming back. Florence seriously looked like she will stab Sully to death, but she managed to give a fake smile to the stranger.

"Something happened in the center and it is locked down for now. But I know another way in. Let's go!" Y/N exclaimed in an excited tone and went on to another of the alleys.

"Does it involve climbing?"

“Don't act like a pussy and come on, Nathan,” Florence took the lead next to Y/N with stubbornness in her eyes. So the man caught up on them as Y/N lead them through some old, nearly dangerous parts of the town.

“Shit!” Y/N shouted at once, throwing his hand back to make them stop. There was a very unpleasant atmosphere in the air as he peeked out to see two men standing near the alley he was planning on to take them through.

“Looks like someone doesn't want literally anybody in there,” Y/N stated as he turned to them with an unsure look. He was clueless about what they'll do now. There was another passage through the city, but it would take the whole evening just to get there - and they would be in a tight corner if that would be closed too.

“Well, go on cowboy,” Florence nodded her head in the direction of the men and measured with her look. They seem to be Syrian, yet they had different gear than the official guars at the downtown. “Talk with them.”

“I would do that on my own if I could. But those guys aren't from here; well, it at least seems that they aren't a part of the army locking down the downtown.” Y/N answered her in a bit too loud and stubborn voice than he actually expected.

“Slow down. There must be another way in. We will not give up here,” Nathan felt so disappointed in Y/N. It seemed that he was actually afraid of these guards. He wasn't so sure that Y/N was truly one of them at the moment; because he would try to come up with some crazy-ass plane which only lunatic can come up with.

“There's is like another way in across the city, but it might be closed.” Y/N sighed and looked at the guards with lips tied up together.

“Well, it looks like I'm up for a good run, don't ya think?” Florence asked all of a sudden in an absolutely terrible Texasian accent, making all of the looks popping on her.

“Oh no,” sighed Sully and caressed his sweaty face with his palm.

“Florence, don't you dare to do it again,” Nathan asked her with a whisper.

“You have a better plan?” Florence rose her eyebrows and then inhaled loudly in a cocky manner. “Go ahead, mister genius. I'm listening.”

“What's this about?” Y/N asked them. He was totally not understanding that situation. He crossed his hands over his chest, being genuinely interested in their bullshit.

“Just pulling out a plan named Saudi Arabia,” Florence got her backpack off her back, giving it to Sully. “Just a quick question. Hows the possibility they'll burn me alive or kill me by stones?” She asked as she got her shirt off, showing all of them black comfortable and yet still racy bra. She showed the shirt into Sully's arms, making her chest displayed as a trophy.

Every one last of them must've said that she is nice, but nobody said anything of this out loud.

“Like, fifty-fifty. I mean, probably depends on their mood.” Y/N answered as she walked passed him.

“You better be fast, I'll catch up later, boys.” She smiled wickedly as she walked directly in front of the guards, putting her hands on her hips. “Well hello there, boys.” She whispered and laughed like a total psycho as she runs to the nearest alley. The men were thunder-struck, then angry and then both of them run after them.

“So she has done this before?” Y/N asked them as they walked to their desired alley in a quick tempo.

“Well it was better the last time,” Nathan sighed in a relief that nothing was in there was at the moment as Victor put Flo's bag over his shoulder. “She completely undressed on a Saudi Arabia market.”

#nathan drake #nathan drake x male reader #in and out #fanfiction #uncharted #hell yeah #have a lovely day

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bluboothalassophile · 6 years

Note

I honestly don't understand DC always trying to undermine Raven's powers. I read the current comics that she's in and it is so poorly written and boring. They suck at character development and its so fucked up that she's always brushed aside. And also I'll never forgive them for killing Roy and they keep fucking up Jason. These guys went through a lot and I just wanna see them be happy and I want to see more batfamily moments and team ups like in Batman and Robin Eternal.

Hello,

Reasons I am mad about Canon Raven:

She’s ALWAYS depowered; always, and she is literally the very definition of an over powered character.

When they attempt to over power her again they fuck it up; like in Titans with Raven’s ‘telepathy’; she’s a fucking empath! NEVER has she been a telepath!

She has never been utilized outside of the Titans; which is infuriating on many levels. Because she needs to go solo; with a big comic or go to JL Dark or hell, team her up with Lucifer! I don’t know, but something outside of the fucking Titans!

Her solo series, while hold much promise are always cut short, or tie into nothing about her canon life.

They just severed her connection with her aunt and cousins, further isolating her again.

I am royally pissed that her connection with Victor Stone, a.k.a. Cyborg, (which I think is canonly her BEST familiar relationship EVER, their dynamic is amazing; it’s also an amazing dynamic for Victor too! So why was it cut!?) has been severed, was briefly rekindled only to be discarded again.

She’s always de-aged; sorry @chromium7sky, but I really hate that because I really think she should be about Jason and Tim’s age, hell, I’d even settle her being Dick’s age, just enough de-aging her! At this rate; and I’m sorry @impulse-goblin, she’ll be a RobRae with Carrie Kelley or Matt McGinnis! Which is so not okay because DC is screwing her over royally.

Marv, her creator, can no longer write her well to be engaging; which is sad.

She’s been royally dumbed down; which really fucking pisses me off, because even though N52 SUCKED BALLS, Raven, while bitchy, was always eager to learn; it’s one of her defining traits! She’s super smart, she’s engaging, she’s empathetic and kind, and rebirth has made it so she struggles with school. -.- Explain that to me, please, she’s never been stupid or struggled learning before. And I get trying to connect with modern readers, and making characters relateable, but that was just plain fucking stupid. There are other characters you can do that with, using Raven does not help in anyway.

I will not get into my issues with N52, there’s many, but mainly: WTF is up with Raven’s Entire Personality!? I mean don’t get me wrong, I loved the design she had, and I loved her on Tim’s team, also their entire friendship was amazing, but WTF, what a Bitch. I wanted to smack her.

They either forget she is a magic user, or they forget she’s a demon with demon abilities or something, but it always seems like one or the other is missing with her.

Off side key irritation too: How come her father doesn’t play a larger part of the DC universe and getting heroes to fear him? I mean come on! Titans plays him up to be like Darksied or Lucifer level of terrifying, and the DC universe: Who’s Trigon? WTF is that about!? You want the Only Daughter Of Trigon to have meaning, to show her power, then why the fuck isn’t Trigon more widely known and feared!? Come On People! We have Darksied’s ENTIRE Family feared, but you want to play Trigon off as eviler than Darksied but the entire DC universe outside Titans is like: Who the Fuck is Trigon!?

Kay, Metal hinted at her connection and importance to the Multiverse, but the DC, I don’t know… Forgot? And somehow the entire reason for her being captured, isolated and singled out by the Batman Who Laughed was forgotten. Granted my favorite panel of her and Victor happened because of that, but seriously; MAJOR PLOT HOLE DC! Come on, we aren’t Marvel, cease these plot holes in your big labels! Be grown ups!

Mainstream Raven hurts my Raven loving heart. But her counterparts are pretty cool, like on Earth 1 or Bombshells or the recent Titans movies, definitely liked her in the Titans live action show, and obviously I loved her in the cartoon; not Titan’s Go as that has helped in destroy her and the Titans.

Now, my issues with Heroes Crisis:

King. Fucking cock teasing bastard tormented us with BatCat for over a year, getting them to the fucking alter then he did that fucking stunt; hell yes I am pissed still, and I am no less angry going into Heroes Crisis.

Kay, now for real.

I have major issues with the plot, thus far, because there doesn’t seem to be one.

Killing Roy and Wally did nothing to further a plot, or even engage in the plot and has just furthered to hurting surrounding characters.

Killing Roy was fucked up and senseless; as a writer I find that appalling.

Killing Wally was unnecessary; especially after all the fucking trouble we had gone through to get that speedster back! I mean COME ON! It’s like you brought him back solely to kill him off, and if that’s the case, someone smack a brain into King’s fucking head.

While the premise of Heroes Crisis was engaging and interesting to read the idea for it, it has been a dismal affair.

Why the fuck are your only suspects Harley Quinn and Micheal Carter, a.k.a. Booster Gold? No seriously want to explain that!?

There is NO WAY Harley would ever hurt or kill Ivy, just no, and DC I don’t care about trying to cater to people and convincing all of Harley and Ivy are straight, it just wouldn’t happen. Ivy and Harley are in love, and I sincerely doubt, that despite EVERYTHING Harley has done in her life, that she would ever kill the woman she loved.

Also, Micheal Carter has selflessly saved the timeline multiple times, and done so without recognition. Yes, he can be full of himself, but where the hell did King come to the conclusion that Carter was a sociopathic narcissist? Someone please explain the basics of human nature to King; PLEASE! For the love of God, someone! I expect this crap from Lobell!

Now to my fury with the Batfamily in it’s current state:

Rebirth presented us with fairly healthy dynamics between the Batfamily members; which was refreshing as all get out, but now… I’d like to rip DC’s heart out and shove it up their ass for what they’ve done.

First, they allowed King to be the ultimate cock tease! Bastard built up the fucking BatCat wedding to be the wedding of the goddamn century; going to make comic history! And he fucks us over like we’re a two cent whore whilst simultaneously destroying the Batfamily.

Second: who the fuck even ALLOWED Lobdell into DC again to write!? I mean really!? Did you asshole not learn your lesson the first time!?

Third, wtf is up with Ric Grayson; I get it, we’re all exceedingly immature for taking an actually socially acceptable nickname from the 1930′s and perverting it into penis jokes. But news flash, Dick’s character has evolved with taking that in stride and laughing it off. Changing his name only pisses us off and furthers our desires to make dick jokes.

Fourth: What the fuck are you guys even doing allowing Lobdell near Jason? I get it Lobdell is some ‘big shot’ good ‘big name to have on a comic’ but his writing is shit, I’ve read better stories from Kindergartners. Lobdell is like the Russo brothers of DC, please remove him from our premise, and I petition for us, the fans, to take custody of Jason from Lobdell for the sake of global comic peace. The Dude Can Not For The Love Of God Write. I’m surprised he even knows how to arrange letters on a piece of paper to form words honestly.

Why aren’t Duke and Cass B’s kids? No seriously? Why!? We all know those are his favorite two kids, so wtf are they doing… anywhere else but with the Bats?

Why is Babs Batgirl? Don’t go with that female empowering crap answer, just don’t, she was a better icon as Oracle than as Batgirl. She’s long since outgrown the role, and she had grown beautifully into the role of Oracle, so run this by me again: Why did we take a beautiful survivor, who created empowerment for people with disabilities while remaining a strong female lead and turn her back into Batgirl? Seriously? Someone explain that to me!?

Thank God DC hasn’t fucked up Tim yet, but Can We Please Stop With Evil Batman Tim!? Tim doesn’t even want to be Batman! He Never Has Wanted To Be Batman!

WTF did you do with Damian’s character development? He is not this baby raging Bat anymore who seeks to kill everyone who crosses him. Also what the hell was up with the whole Dami’s got a secret prison thing? That lead to nothing and has since been dropped, but seriously people, who is the lead brain in DC right now allowing this shit!?

Again, I must ask, what’s up with evil Bat futures; have we NO HOPE that these boys can grow up and actually be decent people!? Really. I want to know. I don’t get the options you’ve given these heroes.

Why does B have a double standard when it comes to Kate and Jason; and don’t say it’s because Jason’s killed, Damian’s killed and B is trying to be a good dad to him, so what’s up with this shit!? Is it really so much easier to have the rift between B and Jay than attempt to amend it!? If B has a problem with Jason using guns then the same problem should be applied to Kate; I don’t care about her likability, she’s a bitch and the double standard should cease.

And why is Jason trying to connect with Willis Todd? Willis was an abuse fucker or did Lobdell for get his own canon material again? Someone please remove Lobdell from DC premises! PLEASE! Send him to Marvel or something, I don’t care, but stop allowing him to fuck over Jason because he wants to!

Now, again, I’m brought to the double standards B has and his own reckless behavior. DC please, either find a ethics and morals person to join your writing team, or grow a fucking brain because you are precariously close to having Batman become the killer and the villain.

Why are we isolating the Bats again, when they were so connected at the start of Rebirth? I want to read about the Batfamily BEING A Family! Not this divide and pit against each other crap.

The worst part of all this is, Rebirth actually started off great! Now it’s a flaming pile of wreckage and I almost wish we’d go back to N52 if only to stop watching the same trainwreck over and over happen.

#bluboothalassophile #hello reader

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 10.7k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

uhhh long ass chapter jfc

–

You tap the end of the spoon against the table, “Maybe more gasoline?”

Beetee gives you a look, “I’ve engineered these perfectly--”

“I’m literally from District Two, I manufactured weapons. Just add a bit more gas, and see what happens, it can’t hurt, can it?”

Beetee readjusts the glasses on his face, “I suppose not.” he gets to work, and you scoop some of the carrots onto your spoon, trying not to make a face when you force them down your throat. They’ve gotten cold from how long you’ve been stalling, “You’ve made molotov arrows before?”

“Well…” you make a face, and he turns his eyes to you, “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve… experimented that’s for sure.”

Gale laughs, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve illegally made weapons and sometimes started bush fires because of it,” you laugh, “And I’ve never been caught, either.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Beetee mutters.

You roll your eyes, “As if I would willingly do work now. Just telling you to add more gas was a bore.”

Beetee screws the top back onto the arrow, being careless with it to see if it’ll explode or whatever. Which means that you should definitely put some distance between you and the psychopath here, you’re not too fond of being inside of a molotov. No matter how small that arrow is, there will be a ton of fire.

“Give it a shot.” you motion at Gale, “Seriously.”

“It won’t set the studio on fire?”

“You’re talking to the two engineers, here. Go ahead before I do it myself.”

Gale picks up the crossbow, and then takes the arrow that Beetee is offering him. While he prepares everything, you swivel around to face Gale, while Beetee has to turn the entire wheelchair to see.

“I’ve been trying to make a trident for Finnick.” Beetee begins, the two of you watch Gale prepare, the people on the other end of the room have fire extinguishers ready to put the fire out as soon as the arrow is fired.

“Don’t make it look like an actual trident, keep the design as close as possible to the one he had inside of the arena.” you scoop up another spoonful of carrots, “And make it hollow in the middle, it’ll be easier to move around--and you can make it compatible that way too.”

“Ready?” Gale asks.

“We’ve been ready.” you eat the cold, slimy carrots.

Gale fires the arrow, and right when it hits the bullseye, it explodes into fire. The entire target, the wall behind it, mostly the floor and some get onto the ceiling too. The crew runs forward, putting out the fire before it can spread across the entire room.

You look at Beetee, “See? Not too shabby.”

“Know any ways to make them waterproof?”

“Wax, water rolls right off of it. Don’t lay it on too thick, and you’ll be just fine.” You set the empty tray onto the table, “

“They should have sent you down here sooner.” Gale says, coming back over, “Imagine how much faster all of this would have been made.”

“Beetee would have gotten fed up with me, if he isn’t already.” you say, stretching.

“You’re not too bad to be around.”

“You only like me because I make your weapon engineering much easier. I’m able to catch your mistakes before you even make them.” you tuck your legs in.

He ignores what you said, moving on to Gale, “How’s Katniss doing?”

Gale doesn’t give much of an answer, “Recovering.”

“Let me guess, she’s still mad at you?” you raise your eyebrows. For this, he tells you to shut up. You shrug, getting back to the sketch you were working on for your own personal weapon, “Hey, if you can’t see how out of line you were, then that’s your deal.”

“How was I out of line?”

You place the sketchbook on your knee, “Dude, you called her fiance weak for doing what he could to stay alive. Obviously you two are still pretty close after that, but I wouldn’t have made a comment like that.” you pause for a moment, looking at Gale, “Then again, you don’t know what it’s like to be under a microscope, you can run your mouth all you want, because you were nothing but a coal miner.”

Gale practically rolls his eyes, “I know what it’s like, Katniss had to start calling me her cousin.”

“Katniss was the one being watched, don’t flatter yourself.” you go back to what you were doing.

“She’s right.” Beetee chips in, “(Y/n), I mean.”

“Right.”

The sound of boots on cement makes you look up, expecting Gale to be the one walking away. He doesn’t normally like to take shit from you or Beetee. Coming down here is like a safe place, allowing him to vent and blow steam when he gets to test out the new fancy weapons.

Gale stands right where he was before, which means that it’s someone else. And since Beetee can’t walk, you turn around in the chair to see who it is.

It’s Finnick. His hands are in his pockets, with a gleeful smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”

Gale is just as suspicious as you are, “What are you up to?”

“What was I up to.” he corrects, coming to a stop behind your chair, “It’s a surprise.”

Beetee makes a face, and then wheels himself around so that he’s facing the table again. As he gets back to work, you resume critiquing Gale, and Finnick finds where he wants to be.

“Gale, don’t get me wrong, I can sorta see where you’re coming from, but you need to see it from our perspective too.” you drop your leg, “Let’s compare you to Peeta, since you were doing that already by saying you’d never say what you said.

“He had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on. Peeta didn’t know that there was a plan to get him and Katniss out of the arena, he didn’t know that Coin was planning on using Katniss as a symbol. The only things he did know was what the Capitol fed him to get him on their side.

“And if you still can’t see eye to eye with it, imagine a gun pointed to Katniss’ head. If you so much as step out of line in a way that Snow doesn’t like, he’ll shoot her. It’s not his family, friend or girlfriend that he’s killing, it’s yours. And if you don’t cooperate after Katniss, he’s grabbing the next dearest thing to you.” you lean back in the chair, “And before you say shit, Snow literally did that to me twice. First was right after I won my games and he killed my entire family, and the second time was when we found Tanith dead in a chair. It’s a little different for Tanith, because she was already dead, but he still tried to use her against me.”

“Okay, but what were they threatening Peeta with?”

“His life, for starters.” Finnick says, “And likely his family too.”

Gale doesn’t say anything after that.

“How’s this design?” You offer the sketchbook for Beetee, and he takes it.

“We could probably start this now.” Beetee says, “Mind doing something for Finnick, too?”

“Sure.”

He hands it back, but Finnick takes it before you’re able to grab a hold of it. Sighing, you look up at Finnick, watching his face as he looks over the page, “These are swords.”

“Sai’s.” you correct.

Finnick gives you a look, “But it says right here--”

“--that it’s basically a sword, yes, I know. Normally they’re used to disarm someone--as I showed you before. But I want some that are actually sharp. Blunt force trauma is fun, but what’s even more fun is spilling someone’s guts in front of them.”

Finnick hands the book back, “Sword.”

“Sure.” you cross your legs, “What are you here for, other to annoy me?”

“Keeping an eye on you three for the next couple of hours.” Finnick pulls up a chair of his own, mirroring your stance.

“Sounds exciting.”

Everything falls back into rhythm. Beetee goes back to tinkering on arrows, having Gale use the decoys. And the times he’s not shooting arrows, he’s sitting in a chair talking to you guys. You cough up a couple of sketches for Beetee, hoping that it’ll be good enough.

You might be the one from District Two, but that doesn’t mean you actually put things together. The legal age to actually get into the warehouses is eighteen, and since you went into the games at sixteen and won, you never really had to work. You’ve sat on money for your entire life. The only people that worked were your parents, aunts and uncles and some of your cousins.

Those same cousins taught you how to put things together before your games--obviously. During family get togethers, you’d all disappear for a little while, which is when they’d take the chance. They always thought it was so cool to pass on forbidden knowledge, and have it all be a secret between you guys.

They had this secret stash of gadgets inside of a log, and they’d fuck around with it until it turned into something dangerous. Honestly, the first thing you learned from them was the molotov, and when you threw it on a rock, it exploded and the dead grass around it caught fire.

Cue you all scooping the gadgets into your shirts and taking off behind the houses to get as far as possible. Your older cousin had a backup spot not too far away, you dumped all the shit there and got back to the house in record time. Before the firefighters had even left their stations.

It’s a wonder why you weren’t caught, cause that wasn’t the first time that area specifically had been set on fire, and it wouldn’t be the last either. The firefighters definitely had an idea of why it would always set ablaze, but never pursued it. After a while, they started to monitor the place on extremely hot days, thinking that it was the sun that was starting the fires.

If only they had known that it was a bunch of teenagers doing that shit for fun.

After a while, Beetee gets tired of the arrows and starts over to the crew to begin making the sai’s. While they’re heating up the metal, he gets to making the hilt.

“I feel like we’re doing more work than we have to.” you look at Beetee.

“Do you want it to be fucked up, or do you want it to be done right the first time?” He raises his glasses above his eyes when he looks right back at you.

“The first time.” you sigh.

When you get back to work, Finnick moves in closer, curious as to how you’re designing his new weapon. Every now and then he’ll point out the practicalities, and weighing in on how he would rather it be built.

“This doesn’t even look like a trident anymore.” you hold the journal away from your face, and turn it so it’s long-ways since the entire trident spans over both pages, “It’s basically the opposite.”

“But think of it this way.” Finnick reaches over, touching where the blades of the trident are, “Initial stab, right? But the rest of this does more damage.”

There’s a spear point at the top of the trident, which isn’t the problem. That’s pretty normal when it comes to the design. However, instead of wanting all the other blades facing up and towards it, he wants it downwards.

“And you can even make it compatible!” Finnick grins.

“At least we agree on one thing.” You pass the journal to him, “Go ahead and show Beetee, he’s the one in charge.”

Finnick goes over, and it’s basically halfway across the room, since Beetee is hovering over the crew’s work like a hawk. He wasn’t playing around when he said that he would like it to be perfect the first time around.

“Finnick’s into you.” Gale says.

“You say that like he’s not my soulmate.” you give Gale a look, “Also, I’m not into Finnick.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a teenager and I don’t date people right after they broke up with their girlfriends.” you turn back to Finnick to see that he’s discussing the weapon with Beetee and a crew member.

“If there was no Annie, would you have dated him then?”

You squint, “No.”

Gale laughs, but doesn’t say anything because Finnick is heading your guys’ way again. He drops the journal in Beetee’s workspace on his way over, “Beetee will start it tonight.”

“Cool.” you get up, picking up the lunch tray, “Am I free to leave now?”

“Yes,” Finnick says, but he makes a point to stay in front of both you and Gale.

“See ya later, Beetee!” you shout, “Send someone if you need my help.”

He waves, and then goes back to hovering.

Finnick starts up the staircase first, and Gale walks beside you, “Any progress on Peeta?”

Gale rolls his eyes, you can feel it, “Same as he was before. I saw him before coming here.”

“Katniss still saying no?” you look over.

Gale nods.

“That’s reasonable, I wouldn’t want to go near him either…” you trail off for a moment, and then laugh to yourself.

Finnick glances over his shoulder curiously, “What is it?”

You chuckle a bit, “Out of everyone, I’m definitely last on the list of people he wants to see.”

“Why’s that?”

Your smile is small as you look at your feet, rather than up at Finnick, “I nearly killed Peeta.”

“After the birds? I know--” Finnick says.

“No, after. After you had been pulled out of the arena, did I tell either of you that story?”

Gale says no, which is expected, but Finnick thinks about it before answerings, “We talked about emotion when you first got here, and how intense it was.”

“Well, after I left the lightning tree, my real goal was to go downhill and straight for the cornucopia. I thought that if the jungle were to burn, I would need to take my chances in the middle. On the way, I found a livid Peeta, and a strangely calm Johanna.” you smile, “Peeta started screaming at me instead, and Johanna urged me not to do anything.

“But then Peeta backed me into a rock, so when I got up, I punched him twice. Kicked him a couple of times while he was down, and then Johanna stepped in--” Finnick has slowed down now, he watches you, “--and naturally I knocked her out with a single right hook, since she’s… weak to say the least. She hit her head on a rock on the way down, and I thought I’d finish her off later.

“As for Peeta, it was just him and I.” the smile develops into a grin, “I was about to rip him apart--and I mean minutes from doing it. But then the peacekeepers came and I thought that it would be better to leave the situation as it was.”

“You’re… sadistic.” Gale says.

“I’ve heard it all before.” you say, looking at Finnick.

“At least you didn’t kill them.” Finnick says.

“Peeta knew that I was about to. Doesn’t matter if I did it or not.”

Gale laughs now, “You should go visit him to see what he says.”

“He’d probably get mad at me for not killing him when I had the chance. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle me in that hovercraft.”

“The tracker jacker venom fucked with his head, he probably barely recognized you.” Gale says.

At the top of the staircase, Finnick stops you, “We’ll see you later, Gale.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to see Boggs.”

You salute as a joke, getting an eye roll in return. Finnick purposely waits until Gale is gone, and then he moves out of your way, “You’re getting better.”

“At making people like me?” you ask, giving Finnick a look, “You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I think.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “A genius you say?”

“Maybe not a genius.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in, “So what were you up to?”

“You’ll see in a couple of hours.”

“Is that why we aren’t getting off on the floor we normally do?” you stare at your feet.

“We’re heading straight for the medical floor to Johanna.”

You stop on the stairs, and Finnick gets a couple of steps above you, “Did you not just hear my whole story?”

“The worst Johanna will do is run her mouth about the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask one of the nurses. We’ve heard her speech a couple of times now.”

“Then can I opt out and go to the dorm instead?” you start up the stairs again.

“You’re really going to leave me to talk to Johanna?”

Your eyebrows draw together, “You’re the one that wants to see her!”

“Come on, we see Johanna and then we go to the dorm right after, I promise.” Finnick says.

You hold out your pinky for Finnick, and with a slight chuckle, he pinky promises you. The two of you resume your journey up the stairs, and then he says, “Unless we talk for too long.”

You press your lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He laughs anyway.

When the two of you reach Johanna’s room, you hang by the door, not really wanting to go inside. You don’t like the look of the room, much less the idea of being back inside of it. Ever since you’ve been granted the freedom, you’ve made a point of not coming back to the hospital--or infirmary--floor, no matter the reason.

The other day, you cut your hand on a blade down in the workshop. The crew had wanted to call someone down to come and take care of you, and you barely stopped them in time. Over your dead body, would you be brought back here to sit and wallow in white for a couple of days.

Especially over something as childish as a cut. So, you found the first aid kit, cleaned out the wound and Beetee stitched it up for you. The crew was a little surprised how calm you were during the entire procedure but the only thing you had to say was ‘high pain tolerance’ after all your years of bullshit.

So being back here makes you nervous. As if someone will pop out from one of the walls and tie you down to a bed for absolutely no reason. You’re perfectly healthy, and the nurses and doctors knew this. Even after you had tests that came back negative for poison in your system, you were required to stay.

Finnick and Johanna’s conversation is surprisingly normal and boring. There was absolutely no reason for you to tag along, except for Finnick’s own request. The only reason why you’re here is to be nice.

As if Finnick’s read your mind, he looks at you, “(Y/n) been helping Beetee out in the workshop lately, designing weapons.”

Johanna’s eyes drag over to you, bored of it already, “She’s being helpful for once?”

You stare at her.

“She’s done quite a lot, Johanna.” Finnick says, looking back at her, “She’s the one that opened the conversation about rescuing you and the others from the Capitol.”

“For her own benefit.” Johanna laughs, “Because she can’t stand being alone. It’s why she’s kept you around so long, you know? Not because she likes you, but because she needs another soul to harvest. She’s like the fucking grim reaper.” she looks at you now, “A heartless murderer.”

You take a deep breath, and then a smile spreads over your face, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. At least then, there would be one less leech on the morphling supply.” you spit, “You deserve everything that Snow gave you, the waterboarding, the near-drowning. It’s a shame that he only kept you alive so you’d suffer and become nothing but another downer on everyone around you.”

Finnick’s head whips in your direction, clearly not expecting the outburst. You’ve been so good for so long, but there’s something about Johanna that just gets you steaming.

“I should have stomped your head into that fucking rock in front of Peeta.” you seethe, “And then I should’ve beaten Peeta to death, because you two weren’t nearly worth sacrificing my life over.” you shake your head, “You’re nothing but another morphling addict. Another victor that couldn’t take the fucking heat. If I were you, I’d just kill myself from how embarrased I’d be.”

Johanna’s been smiling at you the entire time, like she wanted this sort of reaction, and so you finish it off, “It’s probably how Blight felt too.”

Her smile drops, and her hand is reaching towards the needles in her arms before her feet have even hit the ground. You stand your ground, allowing Finnick to get her to stop because she does some real damage to her veins.

“(Y/n)--go!” Finnick’s angry, and he glares at you over his shoulder.

“My fucking pleasure.” you spit, leaving the doorway.

It was worth it. Every word that left your mouth was fucking worth it. Being nice to people is such a fucking chore, especially when it’s towards people who don’t deserve it.

You stand in the stairwell for a moment, thinking about where you’d want to go. But there’s really no place that’s safe if Finnick comes looking for you. The workshop and dorm are an obvious place, as well as the stream you stumbled upon. He’ll check with Boggs and Gale--and there’s no one else here that likes you.

You hate it here.

You thought you would be able to make this place feel like a real home and maybe even like it, but it’s not worth it. This whole place isn’t worth it to you.

Everything inside of you is a frenzy.

You have to go home.

You start up the staircase, knowing that seeing Plutarch and finding a ride would be the place to start. He might not be happy about it, but there’s really no need for you here. You’re not doing anything besides designing personal weapons that Beetee likes and doesn’t like.

Occasionally you’re genuinely helpful with dumb shit, but that’s the extent of it. Other than that, you’re miserable. The freedom you have isn’t actual freedom.

You hop up the last couple of steps, and round the corner to the door to the control room. You practically throw it open, nearly letting it hit the wall, when your hand appears between the crack to stop it.

At your appearance, a few people look over. The only eyes who stick are Boggs, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch.

“Where’s Finnick?” Gale asks.

“Not his owner,” you go down the steps, eyes on Plutarch, “I want a ride to District Two. Your next hovercraft is mine to take.”

Boggs stands up, crossing his arms, “What about the workshop?”

“Boring, Beetee has it under control.”

“And Finnick?” Haymitch asks, “I thought you were just liking it here--”

“I’m a liar.”

Gale sighs, “Tell us what happened.”

“Johanna and I are going to end up killing each other the next time we come face to face.” your eyes land on Plutarch to see he has an eye on his watch, “So unless you feel like cleaning up a dead body, I’ll take one free ticket to District Two.”

“The next hovercraft is leaving in fifteen minutes.” Plutarch looks up now, “I’ll call in and let them know you’re going.”

“Does Finnick know you’re doing this?” Gale asks, “He’s going to be upset if we have to tell him--”

“It’s his fault for getting attached to me.” your face is serious, and then the smile spreads over your face, because of the irony of that statement. After what Johanna had said… “He’s your problem now, good luck.”

You go up the steps, heading right out the door you came in. You can’t take the staircase to the top, so you make your way to the elevator instead. You press the button, waiting patiently with a smile on your face.

The hovercrafts that they’re using to get the supplies to and from District Two are the slow type. District Thirteen is in no rush to get the crates there, so it won’t be a surprise to you if it takes more than just a couple of hours for you to get there. Or if it makes stops along the way.

The elevator arrives, you pull up the safety bar, and then step inside, pulling it back down. You punch the top floor button with your thumb, then you go to stare as the floors disappear beneath your feet.

At least back home you don’t have to act and lie for the happiness of others. Especially if your first and only stop is going to be your house in victor’s village. And if you need groceries, it looks like you’ll be hunting for food to eat. Or you might actually have to go into town and ransack the already destroyed buildings.

Most of the people that used to own the shops are probably dead, or they won’t be returning back home for a while. The entirety of victor’s village is going to be a graveyard--there might even still be rotting bodies inside of the houses. If the smell is too unbearable, you could always bury the corpses yourself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

At the top, there’s someone waiting on the ramp. You don’t bother waiting for them to tell you to hurry it up, you start jogging immediately. The faster you get on, the faster you can take off.

“I’m ready.” you say when you get to the ramp.

“Good, take a seat and strap in.” the man follows you in.

The whole district is in ruins.

The last time you were here, everything seemed to be in near perfect condition, apart from the obvious looting that had taken place. The broken windows, and the wood splinters in the gravel could be easily looked over. But it’s much harder to see this place as it once was.

Most stores and houses that were made out of wood, and had been passed down from generation to generation have been burned to ashes or their cement flooring. There’s nothing left of them, not the furniture inside, and definitely not the foundation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that they were vacant lots.

If they couldn’t burn, then they were bombed. Chunks of cement and brick have now joined the mixture in the gravel. The roofs have long since caved in, and just one gust of wind makes the walls shudder. All it would take is one more bomb dropped in this area, and it all would come crashing down.

The air around you is hardly breathable too. Before you had stepped off the hovercraft you were given a mask--not the same gas mask that you’d used during the tribute center invasion--and a pair of sunglasses that would help you see through the debris and smoke.

It’s almost like fog, but so much worse. It’s smoke from fires that can’t be put out, and it’s from the bombs that are from your own district. The loyalists and the rebels are still fighting over this place. Katniss’ visit here hadn’t done much good, in fact you’d say that it made it a lot worse.

As you wander through the streets towards victor’s village, you come up with a lousy plan that’ll likely get you killed.

Coin had thought that sending Katniss here was a good idea, but it wasn’t by any means. Katniss got a bullet to her ribs, which bruised a ton of them, and put her right back into a hospital bed. They clearly didn’t think about what would happen if you mix people who don’t mind the games, with someone who’s leading a rebellion.

You’ve seen the speech, and as heartfelt as it was, it’s not what they want to hear.

Here’s the way you saw it at first; this girl from the poorest part of District Twelve is kicking up a rebellion that’ll likely destroy the system that’s making District Two rich, and the favorite. District Two thinks that they’re going to get everything taken away from them. Their houses, nice clothes and furniture, the good paying jobs.

You would all much rather send in the two kids a year--mostly because your children are prepared ahead of time, and therefore the career districts have nothing to lose--than take the risk of getting everything taken away. The Capitol absolutely adores you guys, with all that you supply them.

So, instead of having the girl that’s leading the rebellion try and convince the loyalists that they’re on the wrong side. You have someone who’s lived in the same luxury as them do it instead. How is Katniss supposed to understand how you all feel? She despised the games, while the rest of you adored it.

The outsider districts don’t understand the need for luxury and favoritism. They’ve lived on the hated side of the Capitol for a long time. The Capitol expects them to underperform in the games, so that’s why they don’t ever see the spotlight until they get a winner.

Anyway, you’re going to get to your house, change into something that says ‘living in luxury’ and then march your way to the justice building. There, you won’t ask for any sort of protection but an escort there instead. You won’t carry any weapons, you won’t pull on a bulletproof vest.

If they shoot you, then they’ll have made their choice very clear.

The gate entrance to the village is all sorts of broken. You barely push the metal door open, and the entire thing falls apart in your hands. You have to prop it up against the fence, being sure that it won’t fall over before you move on to go inside. Then, you waste no time with a quick jog through.

The fountain in the first part of the village is dry. The cement is no longer grey, it’s black from the amount of fire that must have washed through here. On the tiles that line the bottom, there’s melted coins. You’re tempted to reach in and pick one out when you realize just how bad of an idea that is.

You continue down the stone brick path after that, taking in note of every house that you pass. The doors are slightly ajar, most windows seem to be shattered, and a couple are burned down to the foundation. Most still stand though, Sorcha, Enobaria, Brutus, Tanith and Zavian’s seem to be in good condition.

As for Lyme, her house is completely gone. You have an idea that it might be because of the fact that she’s helping the rebels, and some of the loyalists must’ve gotten behind their lines to come and burn hers down specifically. As for the others, there must be a bigger story behind it.

As you come into the third part of the neighborhood, you cross your fingers as you hope it’s not like Lyme’s. You just want a moment inside of a clean house, to be able to go upstairs and find out that there’s running water. Then you’ll take a shower, get dressed in fancy clothing and put on makeup as if there isn’t hellfire around you.

It takes you a moment to find it, because all the houses in this section are still standing. And then you realize that your house is the only one that looks fresh. It hasn’t been touched by all the ash and smoke, it’s still as bright white as the day you received it. Perfect condition.

No windows are broken, the wood and cement show no signs of it being on fire at any point in time. The door is shut tight, a little stuck so you have to rattle the handle until it comes loose. You swing the door wide open, standing in the doorway as you wait to see a mess.

But it’s clean. Of course, the house has collected dust, but there’s no blood. There’s no broken vases, or stuffing all over the floor. It’s how you left it.

You shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. As you go inside, you can’t help but to look around and gape like you’re on a house tour. Nothing has been touched, which is the part that baffles you the most. Both the inside and outside are great.

For a moment, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised that nothing had happened--apart from the fact that the whole neighborhood is disgusting. And then you remember the last time you came home from the games. With the house torn apart with dead bodies frozen in time.

“He seriously fucked me up, didn’t he?” you ask, laughing to yourself.

The house does smell pretty bad though, and the scent only gets stronger the more you head towards the kitchen. You have to plug your nose, strictly breathing in and out through your mouth, blinking away the tears that form in your eyes. It’s just so strong…

Going through the doorway, you take your time to look for anything that might be off. There is nothing, but you’re sure that it was coming from here specifically, and the second that you test the water with a breath of air through your nose, you gag. You go back to breathing through your mouth, even though you can taste the toxicity.

It’s not gas, that’s for sure. It’s something else…

The kitchen, the smell, the fact you haven’t been here--it’s the fridge. The food inside of the fridge and the cupboards are likely rotting. You can picture the mold in your mind already, and you shiver a little. Deciding that it’s better not to investigate further, you head straight upstairs instead.

On the way to your room, you can’t help but to pop open the doors and take a look inside. It’s just the paranoia now that’s making you do this. You don’t think you’ll find anyone in here, it’s just the thought of someone maybe hiding and waiting for you. A house like yours shouldn’t be in perfect condition, not after everything that’s happened.

And yet, there is nothing. Not even in your master bedroom, and not in the bathroom either. Despite this, you also lock your bedroom door, stripping on the way to the bathroom. And when you get inside of there, you lock that one too. For a second, the water in the shower runs cold, but then it turns warm.

While you let it heat up a little more, you take a look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a couple of weeks. The mirrors that they have in District Thirteen are practically useless, they might as well not have them at all. You can barely see your face in them, and they’re permanently fogged over. At first, you thought that there was a protective film, until you realized that they were just shit quality.

Your fingers dance along the scars that cover you from head to toe. You turn your body to get a better angle, only to be disappointed when they continue. You force yourself to lean onto the counter, even though you’re so incredibly uncomfortable now, but curiosity is what’s fueling it all.

Then you’re able to see that the spider bite scars exist on your face too. They’re faint though, not too noticeable. What is noticeable, is the fact that there’s a scar that’s right beneath your eye. It’s so small that you can see it, even with you leaning over the counter.

You wipe the fog off the mirror, hopping onto the counter. You’re basically pressed against the mirror with how you’re seated as you desperately try to see what the fuck is beneath your eye. Wiping the mirror again, you take your chance to see.

C.S.

Your face twists as you back up, trying to think of who has those initials. Much less who would leave it on you like they’re marking their territory. You slide off the counter, rubbing beneath your eye, wishing that it’ll just go away, but it won’t.

Then it clicks, and you almost wish it hadn’t.

Coriolanus Snow.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth hanging open as you watch the fog take over the mirror again, and your naked figure is covered up as a result.

He marked you. Snow fucking marked you like you’re his pet.

Your hand has swiped the vase off the counter before you’ve realized it. It isn’t until it’s shattered, when you’re jumping out of your skin. Even then, you’re still captivated by the amount of rage that’s running through your veins.

“Motherfucker!” you yell, digging your nail into the spot, gritting your teeth when it hurts. But it has to go. It has to be defaced. You won’t be seen as his. You don’t belong to Snow.

It’s a relief when your bare nail breaks skin. Though, more pain spikes in that one spot, and even in your eye a little bit. You lean on the counter, squeezing your eyes shut and giving yourself a moment to recover before you head into the shower.

You can’t fucking believe this.

You had always told yourself that you would be saving this dress for an occasion that you’d never be able to replicate. No weddings, funerals or parties. No victory tour, no get together, no reaping. You had to save it for something that would be groundbreaking, something that would change the game altogether.

At first, you didn’t want to pick it up for even this. Then you remembered that you have a chance of dying, and thought that was an event you’d never be able to replicate. Because you’d be dead.

And now that you’re walking to the justice buildings, holding the dress up so that it doesn’t get caught in the gravel and what lies inside of you, you’re beginning to see that you’ve got to make it count. Not the dress, but this entire encounter. If they don’t end up killing you, they’re definitely not going to let you come back again. Not peacefully, at least.

All you have to do is make them hesitate. Make them think for the rebel’s side for a second. That’s all you need. A moment of apprehension that they’ll never be able to take back. And since you’re pretty good at playing devil's advocate, this will be a walk in the park.

Seeing a sudden blast of dust and dirt heading your way, you make a home behind a building, aiming the umbrella you’re holding towards the corner that’s closest to you. It takes a moment before the dust storm comes through. The rocks pelt the plastic, and they attack your bare legs.

Since the umbrella is see-through, you’re able to tell when it dies down. You don’t wait to make sure that it’s over completely, because you never know when another gust will roll on in. At some point in time, you recognize the streets that the scouting group had brought you through, so you take that carefully.

You’re still fairly surprised that Paylor and Lyme hadn’t taken your statement of a survey group into consideration. And if they did, then that didn’t last as long as you thought it would. It’s literally only been two to three weeks since you were here last.

You guess that just means that they can’t spare the people as much as they could before. Which says a lot--that they’re losing the battle they swore that they’d be able to win. Coin said in one of her speeches that it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a while. And here you are, thinking that you’ll be able to change their minds in a day.

“Watch this.” you smile to yourself.

You go around a corner, only to stop dead in your tracks. Standing right in front of you are some pretty armored people, holding a gun pointed straight at your chest.

“State your name and business.”

“I see Lyme’s upgraded her shitty guards.” you give him a smile, “(Y/n) Rosecelli.”

He lowers the gun, “You’re supposed to be in District Thirteen.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” you say, continuing your way down the alley, “Quite boring. Is Lyme in the justice building?”

“Yes, I can bring--”

“I’ve got it.” you cut him off, leaving him behind you.

“I wouldn’t recommend going that way.”

“Whatever!” you shout, going right out.

The steps to the building are pretty wrecked, but there’s just enough stone for you to be able to go up them. You hike the dress up a little higher, stomping your heels when you step, as you try to get the gravel and glass off your shoes. The people standing outside the building seem confused at first.

“Excuse me.” you say, moving right past them as you head through the doors.

You take the stairs up, still having an iron grip on the dress. You won’t let it down until you’re standing in front of rebels. You swear on everything.

You pass a third set of guards on your way inside of the meeting room that they had used the first time. When the door pops open, you can see a familiar face on the hologram screen. Alma Coin.

Paylor and Lyme look over simultaneously to see who’s entered the room.

“(Y/n)’s here.” Lyme says, standing up now.

“Good.” Coin says, “Won’t you join us?”

You make a face, stepping inside and shutting the door. You don’t head that far inside, sticking rather close to the door, but still in sight of the camera.

“Finnick’s been looking everywhere for you.” Coin tells you calmly, “We just broke the news to him.”

“And?” you ask.

“He’s disappointed that he went through all that trouble to throw a party for you.”

So that’s what he was doing earlier. Throwing you a party, and for what? God, you can’t imagine the headache you would have had through the whole thing. Fake a smile, pretend to like it. The only parties you do like are the types that go on inside of the Capitol.

It’s all lavish there. The foods are delicious, the sweets and the sour foods. The drinks they have that you swear are going to make you dehydrated, but you drink anyway. The people there are always so friendly, even when they aren’t. They’re so stupid and naive that it makes it enjoyable to be around them.

Not to mention they worshipped you.

“Am I supposed to care?” you ask, crossing your arms, “Can’t be a very good party with your district. The entire thing is probably being attended by a total of ten people, and the food and drinks are twenty years old. I’m not missing out on anything, trust me.”

Coin bites her tongue, smiling, “Maybe it’s best that you’re back in District Two, then.”

“I’m done talking to you.” you give her a mock smile, turning to Lyme and Paylor, “I’m going to solve this whole loyalist problem for you in a second. Do you want to send a camera crew with me just in case it works?”

Lyme’s confused, “No offense, but what makes you think it’ll work? Especially with your mouth?”

“Cause I know you guys have been approaching it all wrong, and rather than having a second person fuck it up for you ingrates, I’ll do it myself. I may be selfish but I’m also open minded and have a way of words when I’m not being a complete bitch.” you look at Coin, “And if it does work, you don’t get to say you planned it at all. I’m not Katniss, and I won’t be easily manipulated.

“On top of that, you’ll also owe me a shiny, brand new apartment in the heart of the Capitol. Otherwise you can take that propaganda footage and shove it up that ass of yours.” you point to Lyme and Paylor, “Camera crew, now.”

You leave the room after that, and Paylor approves the camera crew, asking one of the people in the room with them to go ahead and gather the people. In the meantime, you take a look at yourself in the nearest bathroom. Your makeup and hair are still how you left it, and the dress isn’t that dirty either.

When you get outside, there’s people already waiting to take you to the tunnels. And for their protection, they’re bringing volunteers with them. As for you, you’ll be out in the open just as you asked for.

“I live in luxury.” you tell yourself, raising your head a bit, “I belong in the Capitol. I am a loyalist. These rebels have no idea what they’re doing.”

You take the train tracks straight to the tunnel. The mountain has long since collapsed, which drew out most of the loyalists. And with Katniss’ speech after, a few surrendered. But there’s still plenty of people inside of there.

“I don’t know if we can follow you inside.” one of the girls tells you nervously, “It’s dark and unhealthy in there. If they begin firing, we’ll be the first to be brought down.”

“No, I will.” you say, “They’ll likely let you all live. If those cameras zoom well, keep as much of a distance as you can spare.”

The girl nods, “We trust you.”

You press your lips together, because it’s a first, “If I reach for my dress and turn my body like I’m going to run, you should take off immediately. I don’t plan on running, but I will if it gets too risky.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, I promise.”

Inside the tunnel, it’s even dirtier than you expected. Nonetheless, you all push through. The camera crew and the couple of armed people have masks over their face, but you work right through the dirt and smoke filled air. Even if you put a mask on now, you’ll have to take it off to talk anyway. There would be no point to it, you’re going to breathe in the air whether you like it or not.

“Stop!” A voice shouts, and you all come to a halt.

“Stay here.” you tell the crew.

Lights turn on, you cover your eyes for a moment as you blink through, trying to get adjusted to them. When you lower your hand, you can see that there’s several people ready to shoot you, and what looks like hundreds of people ready to back them up. The lights are coming from the train right in front of you.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I’m here to speak to whoever is in charge, face to face.” you move forward, but stop a little bit after that, not wanting to push your limits.

Someone appears on the top of the train, an automatic rifle in his hands, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

You drop the dress down now, “No, I shouldn’t. This place is unfathomably filthy, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to breathe the air in here. What’s your name?”

“Jovian.”

“You know why I’m here, right?” you ask, crossing your arms, your eyes wandering over all the people waiting to see what happens.

“It’s pretty obvious, which is why I should let you know it’s not going to work, and you should leave while you can.” he tells you, “Or I’ll just make an example of you, just like how we did with Katniss.”

“Except Katniss is still alive in District Thirteen, you didn’t actually kill her.” you tell him, “Healthy as a horse, she was up on her feet the same day, ready to come right back here and give you guys a second chance.”

They won’t know you’re lying.

“We should’ve gone for her head.”

You ignore that, “There’s a big difference between Katniss and I, though. Katniss grew up in the poorest part of twelve, and I grew up in what was arguable once the richest parts of District Two. And then I won the games and got more money than I knew what to do with, and she didn’t have any time to get to realize her luxury.

“Because of this, she’ll never understand what you’ll have to sacrifice if you do take part in the fight. You’re putting everything up for a gamble. Your house, your clothes, furniture, a family. And you’d have to do it without knowing the outcome of a rebellion.”

Jovian nods slowly, “You get it.”

“Of course I do, I was once a Capitol pet too, and then Snow ended up killing my family, and then my friends on top of that.” you motion with your hand, “And I saw the type of people that we were supporting all this time. They’re nothing worth supporting, Jovian. I can promise you that.”

Jovian shakes his head, “What if you lose, huh? The district is already in deep shit because half of us are rebels, what if there’s a chance that the people who don’t fight with you, get rewarded?”

You snort, “You think he’s writing down names? You think he gives a shit if some of you were helping, and the others weren’t? All he’s going to see is that District Two had tried to help the rebels, and suddenly we’re all fucked. So why not give in? You know what will happen if there are no more hunger games, no more districts, no more districts versus the Capitol bullshit?

“You’d be able to live wherever you want--the Capitol, here, any of the other districts, places that were off limits, maybe even in some of the arenas that had gone untouched. You would work if you want to, and have a million kids without worrying about teaching them how to fight.

“There would be no more worries, Jovian. You’d still get to live the same, but it would be that much more freedom. And even if you wouldn’t want to live in any of those other places, you’d be able to visit them whenever you want. Take a vacation to the Capitol and come home to a sturdy house. And for anyone who hasn't found their soulmate because they exist in a different district, you’d have a greater chance of finding them.”

The silence that fills the tunnel is surprisingly calm, it isn’t as tense as you thought it would be. Jovian is obviously thinking all of this through.

“But we can’t win this without District Two. If we get those warehouses pumping out weapons, we’ll win this, guaranteed. It’ll be difficult, as all wars are, but we’ll win for once. We’ll get the justice we deserve, Snow will pay for all the shit he’s done.” you insist, “If you guys come with me now, there’s no hard feelings.

“There’s food, water, clothes, medicine. All you’d have to do is come with us now, and we’ll get you cleaned up, one at a time.”

Jovian looks down at you, “And you can promise us this?”

You look behind you, straight at one of the guards, “Get Paylor to confirm this.”

It takes a moment, but when her voice comes over the tunnel, echoing, saying all of what you said is true, you can’t help but to give a hopeful look to Jovian.

He takes in a deep breath, “Okay.”

“That’s just you, though.” you look to all the others, past the lights, “How about you guys? Are you willing to fight?”

“Will you be fighting with us?” someone yells to you.

This question you weren’t expecting, but you find yourself nodding before you can catch it, “Every step of the way.”

“Then sign me up.” A girl starts coming forward, behind her trails a couple of kids, they come in a line, all holding hands. She walks right past you guys.

It takes a moment before others start breaking off in groups. Jovian gives you a look, “These are my people.”

“They’re our people now.” You correct him, “And they’re going to be safe. Pack the hurt into the train and get this baby moving out here.”

You turn around, heading towards the camera, “Is it still running?”

“Yes.”

You look straight into the camera lense, “Twenty-three kids have died every year for the past seventy-four years. That’s one thousand, seven hundred and one kids that have died in the hunger games. Nearly two thousand of your kids have gone into an arena, scared and alone.

“They wouldn’t know where their next meal would come from, they didn’t know if they would get sponsors or if they were worthy of them. They likely shivered and starved and were dehydrated down to their very last days. And while it was happening, all they could picture was their blue face in the night sky, signaling another fallen tribute.

“And you’re telling me, that now there’s a rebellion happening--one that will stop a cycle of heartless and meaningless murder--you’re not going to help? You’ll finally be able to have kids, and not worry about training them the moment that they’re born. No more staying up all night worrying that it’ll be your kid picked during the reaping.

“But we can’t get there if you don’t help.” You then lean a forward, “And Coriolanus, if you’re watching, I’d like to let you know that I found the scar you left on my face. You can mark me all you fucking want, but I haven’t done your bidding since I was sixteen. How’s this for calming down District Two?”

You stand up again, “For those of you who don’t know, my name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I won the sixty-sixth hunger games when I was sixteen. I’m from District Two, and I have to admit that I have lived in luxury since the day I was born, and coming to terms with a rebellion that has ruined my whole lifestyle, isn’t easy.

“However, if I can see past all my greediness to realize that it’s unfair that I can live in luxury and others live in dirt, then you can too. There will be no more inequality, everyone will be able to live in a stable environment, and if you don’t want that, then you’re just as ill as Snow is.”

You turn to leave after that, hiking up the dress in the front so you don’t end up stepping on it and make a fool out of yourself in the process. It’s a couple of moments before the others are scrambling to follow.

“Are you really going to fight with us?” The girl asks.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

She’s quiet for a moment, “You just don’t look like you’d been into that type of thing.”

You look at her, “Don’t be fooled by the dress and makeup. I’m a lot more than a pretty face.”

“We’ll have to get you fitted for clothing, then. You can’t march to the Capitol in a dress.”

You end the conversation, not saying anything else to her. What she said is obvious, you know that you’ll have to be dressed properly. Hell, you know what’s happening in the Capitol at the moment.

Nothing slips past you. You hear everything when it comes to secrets. You knew Johanna had been waterboarded because she failed some sort of swimming test, nearly took down a couple of people during her panic. And you knew that her and Blight were a little more than friends too.

Just like how you know that the Capitol is turning into a whole trap. Snow is planting these pods—as Beetee called them—that are near impossible to keep track of. Snow is pulling in the Capitol citizens closer, allowing him to plant more pods. Hundreds of them, every single day.

Which means that if you go out there with the other volunteers, there’s a good chance of a million things happening to you. You can’t even think of what the gamemakers would put into the streets of the Capitol. All you know is that it can’t be good.

They might as well throw in every single project that they’ve ever created since they won’t be able to use it against you all in the future. And in that case, you might not want to be in the streets of the Capitol after all.

Right when you leave the train station, there’s a giant dumpster waiting for the people leaving the tunnel. They’re forced to give up their weapons so that they can pass into the team of medics that are waiting. As you get closer, you’re able to see that there’s no struggle. Most give up their weapons without a fight, but some are a little hesitant to do so.

You and the camera crew pass by it easily, none of you are holding a significant weapon, and if you are, you’re all rebels anyway. They’re not worried about you guys turning on them, it’s more like the newly rebels that are just coming out of the tunnel.

Past all the disarming, is the group of medics that wait for everyone who makes it past the tunnel. It takes a bit for you and the camera crew to get through the dense crowd that only gets bigger. Just before you break the last line of people, you can hear the train’s horn, warning everyone that it’s coming.

Then, you get through.

Waiting on the other side of the crowd is Lyme, with a particularly impressed look on her face.

“Maybe we should have sent you in, initially.” Lyme says, “You did it effortlessly.”

“If any of you had bothered to tell me before sending Katniss in, I would have told you it was a bad idea.” You take a look behind you, “And by the way, this is a perfect example of what you should do when it comes to the Capitol citizens.”

“Want to be put in charge of that?” Lyme offers.

Your head whips towards her, “I will not play devil's advocate for them. That’s your fucking problem to sort.”

“It was just an offer.” Lyme says, but you’re already leaving towards the justice building again. Lyme’s quite taller than you, so it takes basically no effort when it comes to catching up with you, “While you were gone, Coin had someone flown in.”

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Oh, whoever should that be?”

After what you said to Coin, it’s no surprise to you. She would pull some bullshit like this to make you angry. It’s just her little form of payback.

“He’s waiting at your house.”

You look at her, “You had him escorted to my house?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him basic instructions to get to victor’s village, and then told him yours is the only one that hasn’t been touched.”

“Speaking of which, why is that?” you fix a curl that’s fallen into your face.

“Honestly, no clue.” Lyme says, “Good luck with Finnick.”

“Right.”

Lyme and the camera crew break off when you reach the justice building. From there, one single person brings you as far as they’re allowed to go into the town part of District Two, and then they head back to where they had been standing before you stumbled along.

You’re nearly home when your feet start to ache from the heels. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dirt is mixed in with glass, you might have taken the heels right off and walked barefoot the rest of the way. Before the rebellion, you definitely would have done that. Regardless of how people would feel about it.

Victor’s village still looks shitty, there’s not much to expect from it in the first place. It’s not like it’s going to have changed in the past hour or two. Although, you thought that you might find Finnick poking around in the abandoned, charcoal black houses.

Through the first arch and into the second reveals your perfect house. The door is shut--so it looks like Finnick knows his manners--and you don’t waste time going inside.

Swinging the door open, you make a point to slam it shut when you get inside. You don’t even move from the doorway before you’re tearing the heels off your feet, massaging them one at a time. Then, you head upstairs to your room.

If Finnick wants to speak, Finnick can come and find you. He invited himself to District Two, he was able to find your house, he’ll be able to find you.

Or rather, the other way around.

Finnick’s lounging on your bed when you walk in. In his hand he holds a book with your face on it. You can’t help but roll your eyes--that book was forced on you by Snow. He thought it was a good idea to draw in more attraction to you. And unfortunately it worked, and after that, you spent a couple more weeks than you were meant to, inside of the Capitol.

Of course, it ran short when everyone heard about your sour attitude, no matter what time of the day it was. People revoked their… reservations, and you were forced to go home.

“Welcome.” you say bitterly, opening the wardrobe doors and tossing your shoes inside, then you unzip the dress from the back with little to no problem.

“So the friendliness didn’t last long.” Finnick sounds amused, but when you turn to look over your shoulder, you can see that it’s not how he’s feeling. There’s a hint of a scowl on his face, maybe some touch of annoyance.

“Thank god.” you hang the dress up, then you close the wardrobe door and move onto the bathroom.

You tear off everything that you wouldn’t normally wear. The bracelets, earrings, rings. The only thing you leave is the necklace Tanith gave you, otherwise it’s all gone. And as soon as you get into the bathroom, it’s tossed into the jewelry drawer, which is absolute hellfire to sift through.

Finnick follows you to the bathroom, and watches as you remove the makeup, unphased by the fact that you’re half naked again, “Did you actually mean any of it?”

You pause for a moment, “Mean what? What I said to Johanna? Every word, she fucking asked for it. Antagonizing me and all that, she should have seen it coming.”

“The apology.” Finnick clarifies.

“I meant that, yes.” there’s no hesitation.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” he turns and leaves the bathroom.

“So now what?” you call, “You’re going back to District Thirteen?”

Finnick laughs, “Dream on.”

You roll your eyes, “It was worth a shot.”

“Your house smells like shit, by the way.”

“It’s the kitchen, feel free to clean it out if it bothers you that much. I just figured that this house would be blown to bits the second Snow gets a chance because of what I said.”

“Speaking of which.” Finnick comes back, he’s got some clothes for you hanging over his arm, “The front lines?”

You scowl at him a little bit, “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone’s clothes? And yes, the front lines.”

Regardless, you pull on the shorts and shirt after tossing the makeup wipes away. You unpin your hair, letting it all fall into place unnaturally, which causes you to just pull it right back up into a ponytail anyway to keep it out of your face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

You side-eye him, “Let me guess, you’re coming along?”

Finnick smiles, “You know me better than I thought.”

“No, you just have a thing for following me around, so I figured. Just like how Lyme didn’t even have to say your name, and I knew you came.” you grin a little, “How was the party, by the way?”

“Surprisingly boring without you there.”

“You’re saying that I’m entertainment?” you ask.

“The best.” Finnick smiles.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fifteen

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extremelytiredincrediblyconfused · 6 years

Text

the melodramatic beginning of my climactic end

There are, quite honestly, about a million other ways I had hoped to gain notoriety... and by a million I mean, like, five. Six, tops. Looking back, avoiding my own inevitable would’ve been easy – a literal push; a click, a tap, the fucking pushing of a fucking button (sorry, potty mouth). All I had to do was keep my mouth shut; keep my shit private just as I always had. I had worked so hard to get where I was – where I hopefully still am – and while some people may have deserved at least some part of what they got, some were just the worst kind of collateral damage. To the latter: you will never know the extent of my regret, nor the level at which I now self-loathe. To the former: I’m still sorry, even if you do suck a little.. I know, I know I’m getting ahead of myself. On that note, I suppose I should start from the melodramatic beginning of my climactic end – my self-imposed downfall, my very clumsy swan dive into public humiliation. Here goes; try not to hate me too much.

Oh, I’ve changed the names of people and places, but the rest is - unfortunately - the truth.

“Well, it’s over! It’s done!” Judy, very melodramatically, intoned while frantically waving her arms, “Edgewood has officially gone to hell in a handbasket!” I have only just walked into the back door of the bakery and tea house the two of us own together, but I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days – to be fair, most of them are. “Well, don’t stop now, give me all the dirt!” I know I’m baiting her, but it never stops being fun. “They robbed my silverware tree!” she offered by way of explanation – the “silverware tree” as we now call it, is the tree that we are forced by the town of Clydesville to have blocking our front door because we live in Tree City USA. We decided to make it festive by hanging all of our gold-plated silverware that was too pitted for use (we are fancy, after all) and everyone had already come to terms with the simple fact that we might as well just throw that silverware in the trash, because once it was out there it likely wouldn’t stay very long. “Well, don’t let them ever say we don’t give back to our community.” Being flippant probably isn’t the best approach to the situation, but we are nothing if not sassy here. “Thanks for taking their attack on my decoration seriously” she sighed “I guess I should just be thankful they were careful not to trample my english garden while they robbed me blind.” “You’re right, I’m sorry, I should’ve taken this more seriously” I held up my hands in a placating gesture, “more importantly – who had bets on it lasting less than a month?” Before she even had time to feign offense, the victor was ready to claim their spoils. “That would be me!” the victor in question being my friend, and co-worker, Lawrence; or as we all prefer to call him, Law, “E-e-easiest five bucks I eva made!” he took the time to not only grab his prize, but do a somewhat embarrassing dance while doing it, “Ooh, wait, give it to me in singles – I WANNA MAKE IT RAIN.” “Five singles isn’t enough to make it rain, Law.” I retorted knowingly – honestly because we have tried to do it countless times, and failed miserably. We have the slow-motion videos to prove it. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was your personal mission to rain on EVERYBODY’S parade today, Kat. Don’t let me stop you, want me to tell you about my hopes and dreams so you can shoot them all down while you’re at it? Yeesh.” He and I have been friends for so long, this type of back-and-forth is just par for the course. As a matter of fact, if I’m not mistaken, we are actually cousins. It is Wayneswood County, after all, literally everyone is related. “As long as your so-called hopes and dreams don’t involve proposing to yet another girlfriend, I’m pretty sure I’ll be supportive of them” I know it’s a low blow to hit so early in our little game, but I really do have a reason for coming in to the store today. You see, Law is what we call a ‘habitual proposer’ – he’s been engaged to four different women (only married to one) in his ripe, young age of twenty-eight. “aye-aye-aye, kick a man when he’s down, why don’tcha?” he pounded a closed fist over his heart in an attempt to make me feel bad. “I’m not saying I didn’t know it wouldn’t happen, but I just thought people would be nicer. I should know better than to place any expectations on humanity anymore. Oh, well – at least I’ve got more silverware to hang up. No more soup ladles, though, the dredges of society apparently needed to serve some broth.” Judy interjected, still trying desperately to hide her disappointment. “That or prepare a whole lot of crack!” I jovially added, making a show of shrugging my shoulders and forcing a tight smile. “Prepare. Prepare?” oh, here he goes “Uh, excuse me, yes Geeves” Law was getting into it now, affecting a posh accept and holding his pinky in the air “prepare us crack, good sir, make it our finest vintage!” “Soooorrrrryyyyy I don’t know all the hip drug lingo, friendo. I must’ve missed that issue of Street Youth Monthly.” Admittedly, my joke’s weren’t always the cream of the crop. After receiving looks of pity for my attempt at being pithy, we fell into our daily routine of treading water and getting through the daily deluge of afternoon teas, ladies having lunch, hipster parents trying to force their kids into liking fancy things and the general public needing sweets to keep calm and carry on. “Our 2:00 afternoon pushed to Wednesday, and changed their reservation time to 1:30.” Judy explained – at the end of the day we all sit down and compare calendars, make notes on scheduling, and make sure we haven’t over-booked ourselves too terribly much. “Okay, perfect. I got a form submission for a 12:00 highest on the 26th.” I added, looking over my most recent crop of e-mails. “Hmmm” Judy furrowed her brow in concentration, “No, that won’t work, we’ve got a party of 15 at 12:00 for a Bridal Shower Tea, see if they can move to either 11:00 am or 2:00 pm. Those are the only availabilities.” “I’ll go ahead and e-mail them.” I responded, tapping a few keys to bring that promise to life. “We will need someone on June 9th, we have that big pastry order for the store anniversary at Belk.” Judy flipped her calendar, and for the first time I truly realized how close to the end of May we were. “I also have a wedding that Friday, so we will definitely need to schedule a lot of help because I’ll be down for the count just filling those two orders.” I’m the Pastry Chef, so I shoulder most of the actual baking responsibility, but I always make sure that only I do the wedding cakes. I’m very, very particular about the wedding cakes. “Can do. Law, can you make yourself available?” “Already planning on it, boss.” My friend was nothing if not dependable. “Y’all know I ain’t got shit going on otherwise.” “Thanks, my dude. Did you buy your tickets for the Front Bottoms yet?!” we had only been talking about going to see them for, oh I don’t know, a million years now. I needed him to stop dragging his feet and commit to going with me already. I hate going places by myself, especially Asheville. “ohmagod, do you want me to buy the tickets in front of you? Do you want me to purchase the gahdang tickets right frickin now so you can watch and make sure I do it, MOM?” like I said, the back and forth never stops with us. “actually that would bring me great pleasure.” I said, a smug smile taking over. “FINE.” He yelled, while pulling out his phone with more dramatic flourish than I probably deserved. After a few enunciated taps, he announced he had indeed purchased the ticket (showing me the text for proof) “You’re driving my ass there I hope you know. And buying me a beer – Wicked Weed is right next door and I’m not about to take on a buncha teenage FB fans without some liquid assistance.” “I’ll do you one better – I’ll buy you a PRETZEL to go with your beer.” I’m feeling very magnanimous, obviously. The day ended as does every other – with our tiny crew barely holding it together, and counting down the last five minutes like we were in Time’s Square watching the ball drop. Unfortunately for me, though, keeping up morale until 5:00 wasn’t going to be my biggest problem of the day.

The drive home was especially short for me, considering I lived less than a block away from the shop. Yes, I choose to drive - you haven’t been on these mean streets at 3:00 am. I put my little Honda in park, and tried to get all the groceries in one go, something at which I seemed to be failing miserably. Reaching for my key, usually hanging from the tiny cupcake keychain my boyfriend’s niece got me for Christmas a few years ago, I was shocked to look down and see nothing more than a broken bead chain. Sonofa – “NOOOOOOO not again!!!!” I whined, loudly. Cute it may be, practical it was not – I had lost my house key more times than I could count at this point during our five-year stint in our little Edgewood home. Micah’s car was here, though, so I could at least just bang on the door until he let me in. “MICAH! MICAH I KNOW YOU’RE HERE, LET ME IN YOU PUNK.” -bang bang bang- -bang bang bang- “I SWEAR TO CHRIST IF YOUR’E SLEEPING THROUGH THIS I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU. YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET THIS DOOR OPEN” -bang bang bang- At this point, my hand was starting to hurt desperately, so I decided that –naturally- the best course of action was to begin kicking the door. However, one can only punch and kick a door for so long before one decides one looks like a crazy person and the neighbors start peeking out their windows. I pulled out my phone to begin the task of calling him until he answered, but after the fifth call of incessant ringing, it started going straight to voicemail. Huh. I mean, that’s probably nothing right? “Hey, it’s Micah, I’m either busy or just can’t get to the phone right now – either way, leave me a message and I’ll call you back… or I won’t. Later. Beeeeeeeep” “Micah, what the hell? I’m sitting outside, freezing, alone, getting really shitty looks from our very terrible neighbors, I lost my key – again. Yes, I know. Your car is here, so I don’t know why you’re not, but I guess just let me know whenever you can. I love you.” A knot began twisting in the pit of my stomach – our relationship would never be described as “stable” or “healthy”, a fact that my friend who was currently going to school to be a therapist (whatever that’s called – therapy school? Therapist school? How-does-that-make-you-feel school?) was always very quick to point out. “If someone really loved you, they wouldn’t make you feel this way.” “If he really loved you, he would make you a priority.” “People in healthy relationships don’t end up crying on their friends’ couches this much.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. We started dating when I was young – honestly, no frontal lobe development whatsoever – and we got way too serious way too quickly. What would you do if you were 19 and your boyfriend’s mom made you promise to take care of him on her deathbed? Yeah, that’s right, don’t judge me; maybe I should’ve left years earlier, but sometimes the hardest thing is to do is scream for help when your lungs have filled with water. So, I sat there. I sat on that porch for five hours and twenty-seven minutes and you can bet your ass if my watch counted seconds I would know those, too. Finally, the darkness was punctured by a harrowing halogen beacon, said beacon not being attached to any car I immediately recognized, but at this point a literal prostitute could’ve been driving him home and I wouldn’t have cared – the need to urinate was all encompassing and entirely overbearing. A slow roll, the sound of the door opening and quickly closing, a decidedly female voice offering promises of meeting again soon; the soft crunch of glass-flecked grass from when he accidentally broke two of my solar lights but never bothered to clean it up, the rattle of keys being removed from the same front, left pocket in which they always rested. “’bout time.” I slurred – admittedly, at some point during my wait I had decided to crack into the beers I had purchased earlier. And by “crack into” I mean “drink all of”. “jesus!” micah whispered, jumping back and assuming what I can only imagine was meant to be a defensive position, “Kat? What are you doing out here? Christ, you scared the SHIT outta me!” “Oh, no… are you slightly inconvenienced? Oh, oh, no… I would hate for your date to end on a sour note.” “Date? Oh, seriously, Kat? Really? You’re gonna get mad about me for hanging out with an old friend?” Micah’s mood immediately turned, and I knew it could only be headed in one direction. “Don’t bring him up.” I warned “For fuck’s sake” he huffed “so you’re free to throw my female friends in my face whenever you want, but I can’t bring up your so-called… what is it that you call him?” he asked in a mocking tone “best friend forever? Your little bestie? Bestie Bitch?” “Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, that’s different.” I argued – the same argument we’ve had time and time again. “Oh, I do know what I’m talking about. I don’t give a shit that you guys have been friends since you were in diapers or whatever you want to claim – that guy is in love with you; he would be at the front of your line, and you know it.” He sneered “God, Micah, when are you finally going to admit that you’re unhappy? When will you stop trying so desperately to make ‘us’ work?” I pleaded, practically on my knees – because, damn, I was druuunk. “When will you?” I can’t explain what happened next, because never in my life have I been that person – the one who is strong enough to walk away, the one who can say no. I can only thank the Stella gods for giving me the distinguished courage to stand up – for, arguably, the first time in my life – and have the self-respect to finally walk away. “Now.” I blinked, suddenly realizing what I was saying, gathered what remained of my groceries (that I hadn’t eaten or drank) and stood up, ready to take the first step. Ready to make a move solely for myself, without worrying about someone who had never spent a day worrying about me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Back up… what?” Micah kept doing this ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ blinking and head shaking combination, probably unsure what to do in a situation where I wasn’t a complete pushover, “say that again? I had to hear you wrong.” “Now.” I said again, much more forcefully, “I’m done. You’re done. We’re done, that simple. I’m leaving – I’ll, uh, come back sometime to get my stuff. I’m taking Penelope and MacGyver.” “You’re serious? Oh, you sweet, simple little bunny… just like that? Just… done? Where do you think you’re gonna go?” he had turned condescending, and I was not there for that. At. All. “I told you to stop calling me that, you ass. I’ll find somewhere to stay – so many people have been begging me to leave you and offering their homes as shelter, it’s not me I’m worried about.” “Well leave your key, I don’t want you sneaking back in here and taking my shit.” Oh, Micah, you always were unnecessarily paranoid. Looking back, it was probably the drugs I didn’t know you were taking. “I lost my key – if you answered your phone, you’d know that.” “Are you sure you can’t stay – we can talk this out?” “There’s nothing to talk about, Micah. We’re done. Now, get the hell out of my way, I’m leaving.” “You can’t drive, you’ve been drinking… you have to stay.” He had a point, and I’m honestly super terrified of breaking the law, but before he had even finished his sentence, I had my phone out and was halfway to dialing the only person I could consistently rely on. “Kat, baby? What’s wrong?” he answered – he always answers. “I’m sorry, Phoenix, I know it’s late… I just” oh, no, the tears. The tears started happening. “I don’t give a shit what time it is – you can call me day or night, you know that – you just never call.” His voice had taken on a tender quality, probably in response to my sobs. “I, uh, I… ah, fuck, can you come get me? Please?” “Absolutely, where are you?” “Ho-“ Micah cast a harsh glare in my direction, “… um, Micah’s house.” I corrected myself – this place hadn’t ever really been my home, anyway. “… is that a new place, or a new name for an old place?” I could hear his hesitancy – I didn’t know how to approach this situation, how could I expect him to? “It’s the same address… just a different situation.” I didn’t really want to get into it, considering Mr. Glarey McGlareson was still shooting eye-daggers at me. “Give me ten minutes.” “Don’t speed.” I attempted to sound stern “Kitkat, I’m coming to pick you up from what I can only assume to be your now ex-boyfriend’s house, I’ll be there in ten minutes or I owe you a bag of chips.” “I’m timing you.” “You’d better.” “Well isn’t that just precious – you’re moving on mighty fast there, Kitkat.” Micah sneered as soon as I hung up on Phoenix. “Seriously? Don’t. Just, don’t. I’m not the one who got dropped off by another woman.” I warned, but it was hollow – honestly, whoever she was, call that bitch up and I’ll thank her myself for being the impetus for this conversation. Micah decided it would be better to not wait with me, and I couldn’t have agreed more. He told me he would call me when he felt comfortable with me getting my stuff – I told him I would be by to get my cats by the end of the following week. He snorted some semblance of an agreement, walked up the two-steps to the small porch, stalked through the front door and ended the entire conversation with a slam. Nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Phoenix’s truck pulled up in front of the 1940s bungalow I wouldn’t sleep another night in. How magnificent. “Jesus, P, how fast did you go?” “What do I need to load? What’s the game plan?” he clapped his hands, rubbing them together like he was either about to do some manual labor or concoct a dastardly plot to take down that do-gooder, Dudley. “I’m sorry, game plan?” I asked, still pretty tipsy, considering. “Yeah – let’s get this done, move you out. Why wait?” “Well, for one, it’s like three in the morning. For two, this wasn’t planned and I haven’t even packed a single shred of anything. I’m not ready, I’ll just come back.” “What’s in your hands?” confusion echoed across his handsome features. I mean, sure we’re only friends, but I can appreciate a good lookin’ guy, you feel me? “What?” I looked down, because honestly I had kind of forgotten, “Oh, groceries.” I shrugged. “That bastard let you go to the grocery store before he broke up with you?” “Hey! Who says he broke up with me?” “Kat, girl, it’s you…” head cocked, twinge of guilt, but ultimately not a wrongful assessment “Yeah, well, ya girl grew a pair tonight. My bitch ass left his bitch ass.” Sassy really isn’t my forte, but I gave it a go. “Oh, now I need to hear the full story.” Behind my head I heard a window crank open, that particular window was in the kitchen which looked directly out over the portion of the front yard in which we were currently standing. Phoenix and I both turned from the intruding noise. “Seriously, guys?” Micah deadpanned from the window – his hair was askew, his eyes red, and a cigarette was hanging from his lips “DON’T SMOKE INSIDE” Phoenix and I yelled in unison, looking at each other and giggling like schoolgirls “Yeah, my house, my rules, now seriously fuck off.” And with that little nugget, he stalked off to probably watch porn right in the living room because apparently the house was now a lawless land. “I really hate that guy” Phoenix noted “I really know you do.” “What were you thinking?” he whined “I have asked myself that every day for the past 5 years.”

The drive to Phoenix’s house took decidedly longer than nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds, probably because we took back roads so we could listen to music longer – something we had always done. There was always singing, usually dancing, and more than a few times there were tears. After minor protest, he helped me carry in my groceries. Unlocking the door, he flicked on the light to reveal the home he had been pouring his heart into renovating for the past two years. The coffee table was new – he built it. “Just put the groceries on the counter and I’ll help you put them up.” He whispered “Thanks – I would say we could just toss them and start over, but these are kind of my only worldly possessions right now, and I’m a little attached.” I whispered back, because duh. “I understand – it’s hard to not get attached to…” plucking a random box out of my bags, “tender whites popcorn.” He said, still whispering. “Hey, P, did you get a roommate?” “Hell, naw, why?” “Why are we whispering?” “Ha!” he laughed, louder now, “in my head we were sneaking into one of our parents’ houses. God, sometimes in my head we’re still teenagers.” He was clearly reminiscing. “I wish things were still that simple.” I released on a sigh “Well, do you wanna sleep or talk?” he was never one to tiptoe around the delicate “Honestly? Sleep. I promise I’ll give you the full story over the coffee you make me in the morning “God” he snorted “you will never change, huh?” “Here’s hoping.” “Wouldn’t want you any other way. The guest room is made up, you know the way, I’m hitting the hay. If you need anything, keep it to your damn self because I’m sleepy. Love you, bestie.” He gave me a quick hug – because even after being friends for most of our lives, neither of us was particularly physically demanding “I love you, too, P. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for saving my ass, again.” “Anytime, KK.” We parted ways, him walking to his master bedroom, and me walking to the guest bedroom situated directly across the short hallway. He paused at his door, and looked back at me “Kat?” I paused, and turned as well, “yeah, Phoenix?” “…welcome back.” “Where had I gone?” “Nowhere good.” The pain was obvious on his face “You��re not wrong, bestie. You’re not wrong.” “You’ll get through this.” “I always do.” “I’ll be right here.” “… you always are” I added before finally closing my door. I guess, in a way, I was back. Like waking up after a deep sleep riddled with nightmares, full of monsters and shadows holding you down and filling you with a sense of inferiority. I suppose, in some small measure, this was one of the first monumental moments of clarity in my fog-riddled existence. I only wish I had stayed up my upward trajectory, stayed full of hope and happiness, kept the lightness of losing a boyfriend-sized weight. Ah, well, I wouldn’t have much of a story to tell then, now would I?

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